Demi Lovato Imagines

Admit it pt.2

🙏

2 months later...

8/7/18 - 03:07
-- Demi: Y/n?

9/7/18 - 09:23
-- Demi: Y/n

12/7/18 - 04:16
--Demi: Y/n Y/l/n is this still you're number?

16/7/18 - 11:46
--Yes

16/7/18 - 11:47
Demi Lovato is calling you

Your phone vibrates noisily on your dresser, the screen glowing brightly in the dim room. You curse yourself for replying.

"Hello?" you say into the receiver, barely more than a whisper. You're very aware of your grandparents sleeping in the next room. 

"Y/n? Is that really you?"

You lean back in your desk chair, swinging yourself back and forth with the tips of your toes. There's nothing to be anxious about in here,  you think to yourself, she can't hurt you here. 

"Yeah. It's me," you reply. A few seconds of silence hang on the other end. 

"...Why-...Why did it take you so long to reply to my messages?"

"Because my grandma told me not to talk to you," you state simply. 

There it is - the bare and honest truth. Not that much else is true considering you never told your grandparents the real reason you had to fly home early. You told them you were let go because of your schizophrenia. Because you were unable to integrate adequately with the rest of the cast. It was something you knew you could be pretty persuasive about.

"Why?" she asks. She sounds sad. It nips at your heart. 

"Because I told them you fired me because I'm on Clozapine and because I'm a total nutjob. It was easier than telling them the real reason."

All of your words are short and snappy. You don't want to have this conversation. Because then you have to revisit all the shit about you getting accused in that hotel room; and lying to Demi; and lying to your grandparents about Demi. It's all just a bit of a headache. You'd rather not do it sitting in your room at midnight. 

"Y/n...why would you ever-...I would never judge you about that...ever..."

You don't say anything. You don't want her to begin her interrogation about what's really behind this phone call. 

"...Did you really think I thought you were a...a 'nutjob'?" she mumbles.

"I mean, yeah. Everyone else thinks it. Listen, I'm not mad that you do, I was just using it as an excuse to get my gra--"

"Don't ever think that I think badly of you about that...don't ever..." she speaks slowly, "Do you hear me?"

You pause. A dog barks from below your window.

"Y/n?"

"Yeah...I hear you," you answer.

"Why didn't you just tell them the real reason? You have nothing to be embarrassed about - it wasn't you who did it."

She says this so nonchalantly that it catches you off-guard. You feel your whole body hitch in unpreparedness. 

"Wha--...uh...yeah, I did...I told you...it was me, I did it...I--"