IMAGINE... d.l.

Can You Be My Nightingale?

(in which you comfort Demi after her father's death)

You sit on the red couch, your heart heavy with sadness as you hug your girlfriend that you've been with for a year. Her tears are soaking your shirt, but you don't care. You just care about fixing that broken heart of hers even though you know it'll take a lot of time.

Demi's father died just today.

You got the call from her mother about two hours ago since Demi was asleep and her phone was off, so she didn't know her mother called. When her mom called the house phone and you picked it up, you knew something was wrong from how urgent her mom sounded. How sad. Her voice sounded horse and choked. When she told you, you couldn't help but cry. Not just for you because you loved Demi's father because he treated you like you were his own, but because of Demi. She would be torn when you heard. 

And she was. 

After you got off the phone, with a heavy heart, you woke Demi up and told her the news. Your heart broke when her warm smile turned into a frown, her face twisting in confusion. At first, she thought it was a joke and laughed, but after a while, it was all tears. You've seen Demi cry before, but never like this.

After a few minutes of more crying, Demi finally seems to calm down, her crying going down into sniffles and tiny whimpers. She pulls away from your shoulder, her face puffy and red, her cheeks wet. The sight of her is heartbreaking. "You okay now?" you ask. "I mean, have you calmed down a bit?"

"Yeah," she says, her voice hoarse and broken. "Yeah, I think...I think so." She looks at you and sniffs. "I wet your shirt. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," you say. "The shirt is old as hell anyway."

Demi suddenly pinches the bridge of her nose and sniffs again. "You okay?" you asks, concern lacing your voice.

"Just a headache," she says.

"From all of that crying," you say, trying to lighten the mood, but Demi doesn't smile. "You want something? An aspirin? Some water?"

"No," Demi says, getting up slowly. "No. I just...I just need to lay down."

"You want me to come with you?" you ask.

"No," she says, shaking her head as she walks to the stairs. "I need...I need some time alone."

"Well, okay," you say, understanding completely. "Just yell if need anything." You watch as she drags herself up the stairs before you sigh and rub your face, feeling a rush of tears coming on. You're still struck about Demi's father's death along with how she's taking it. She's so broken, so torn. You almost didn't want to tell her the news, knowing this would happen. You hear your and Demi's bedroom door slam, but it's not enough to muffle out the crying. You want to go and comforter, hug her tight, but you know she needs her space.

About an hour later of hearing her cry and trying to distract yourself by watching TV and checking your Twitter only to see it blow up with tweets about Demi's father's death, you decided to go up and ask Demi if she wants anything since you haven't heard from her in over an hour.

You walk up the stairs slowly, but stop in your tracks when you hear the beautiful melody sound of a guitar.

And Demi's angelic voice.

You know it's wrong, but you put your ear up to the door anyway, hearing her muffled voice singing. You silently crack the door open, careful to be quiet, and see her playing her guitar and sitting cross legged on the your bed, her back to you. You recongize some of the words she's singing as a song that she's recently been writing.

Demi suddenly turns around and looks at you and you jump, feeling like you just intruded. "I'm sorry," you say. "I was just wanted to check on you. I haven't heard from you in a while."

"It's okay," she says, putting her guitar down. "Come in."

You walk in, slowly closing the door behind you, and sit down on the edge of your and Demi's bed. Demi pats the spot next to her and you slowly move over to sit by her. Her face is slightly red, dried tear tracks on her cheeks. "Are you okay now?" you ask. "I mean, have you calmed down?"

"Yeah," she breathes. "I took a long nap which is probably why you haven't heard from me, woke up, and just wanted to get my feelings out, so I wrote more of that song you liked."

"Really?" you ask with a smile.

"Yeah," she says with a small smile. "You wanna see?"

You nod and she shows you a page in her notebook with tiny words written on all of the lines. Afterwards, she plays you the song from the beginning to what else she has written and you have never cried so much. You can actually feel the pain and destress Demi wrote in the song.

And those are things you never want her to feel again.