One Shot Series 3

Closer

Warning: self harm attempt, kinda sad and kinda cute at the same time I guess

Demi's eyes shone with tears.

Looking up her name was addicting, but always turned out to be the wrong decision. In the beginning the good outweighed the bad. Her fans burned brighter than the hate.

But then everything drastically changed. More and more people started to turn on her. Either blaming her for the breakup, thinking that she's only with him for fame or calling her stupid for getting back with him.

"I'm not afraid to say it, I hate Demi Lovato. Like, hate all you want, I don't fucking care. She has no talent, a trash can sings better than her, #annoying"

"Demi Lovato is so fat and ugly lol no one likes her"

"No matter what people say about Demi i'll always be a proud Lovatic"

It was stupid for her to care what people thought. Especially little girls or women that couldn't do anything about it. But she always found herself caring more and more about what they thought.

She was, after all, dating their idol. So naturally she wanted the relationship to be good between them. But there would be animosity, that she couldn't fix.

But it didn't stop at Beliebers, Smilers, Swifties and random haters. No, people she thought were her friends bailed the minute Justin and her got back together. They called her dumb, obsessed, everything the fans did. It was like she couldn't catch a break.

After rehab Demi thought that dealing with hate would be easier. That she would no longer feel the need to seek out hate. To make herself feel bad.

But rehab couldn't make Demi love herself. Rehab couldn't make her see all the good she has. It couldn't make her see what Justin, and her fans saw. It was all up to Demi -and she couldn't do it anymore.

So there she stood. Looking at her reflection in the horrid mirror. She didn't notice the full lips the kind girls die for. She didn't see the curves she had. What most people strive for.

All her eyes saw was imperfection.

How she didn't have that glorified thigh gap. Her hair wasn't long and flowing. Her waist could have been much smaller.

Everyone was right. Justin deserved so much more. He deserved a talented girl who could sell out arenas. Break records and have the voice of an angel. Someone he could collaborate with and make beautiful music. It would make people adore and envy them.

Or someone who got offers upon offers of movie roles. Getting nominated and winning Academy Awards and Oscars and Grammys at every show. The girl that was on all the magazine covers, and people lined up to see her movies. Or waited in anticipation for the show she starred in.

Maybe a model, who made people hate her on sight. Instantly being envious of her looks and body. A girl that could wear lingerie and not feel self-conscious. Everything about her would be perfection.

And Demi...she's none of those things. She's completely and totally average. Her looks were boring, her voice was flat, and acting mediocre. There was no way she deserved someone like Justin Bieber.

Not being able to look at her perfect friends anymore. Or being able to handle social media, period, she just unfollowed everyone. Not tweeting, or posting pictures on her own.

Justin, back to America, was scrolling through his phone. Sitting quietly in the car, on the way to Demi's house. She was pretty broken hearted over him going all the way to Japan, but she knew he needed to go. Now he was happy to go cheer her up a little.

But he came across the picture. Of course he knew she was struggling. He was Demi's outlet. But being the stubborn girl she is, she didn't share everything.

"Could you hurry up?" Justin asked, clicking her contact. Normally the girl would do something drastic. And it was natural for him to be as worried as he is.

No answer.

That did nothing but increase his fears.

Her slim fingers grasped the thin steel. Her brown irises denied of any light. She tried to edge herself on, convincing her brain it would be better if she tried it. That everything would go away - even for only a second.

But she knew better. Holding the razor was just a release. In her other hand she held an ice cube. Feeling the pain her in heart drain, and pool into the burning sensation going on in her palm. It wasn't as intense as cutting, but had the same effect.

Justin didn't know that, however. All he saw was the razor in her hands. Tears falling down her cheeks. He screamed the once bubbly girl's name, startling her.

The steel fell from her hand, the now melted ice dripping from the other. "J-Justin?" A gasp left her pink lips. Before her brain could comprehend what was happening, her legs instinctively ran toward him. Head finding the crook in his neck.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. Kissing her shoulder, sweetly. "I promise I didn't cut...I-I just thought about it..."

Hearing the words was almost as painful as the action. The thought of an angel wanting to hurt herself made his head spin. Hurt and regret pool in his stomach. He backed up to the bed.

"I shouldn't have left you." Justin breathed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Smiling softly, Demi reattached herself to him. Only wanting to be in his arms.

Her bare legs wrapped around his waist, her hands hugging his neck. She missed his gorgeous scent, his taste. The only thing registering in her head was...tighter...closer.

Her lips found his neck. Kissing it sweetly, in the most non sensual way possible. Constantly she would peck him, and every time he would tighten his grip on her. Protecting his angel from the cruel world.

"Don't leave me." Demi whispered.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He replied quietly, holding her closer to his body.