Demi Lovato Imagines

Homesick

"Hey, are you sure this is okay?"

"Is what okay?"

"Me inviting friends over and stuff? I know you've got work to do."

You chuff, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands before stretching your arms forward with a yawn. When another email pings into your laptop, you close the lid and turn your body properly so you're facing Matt. 

"Honestly, it's fine. I might just go to the library anyway."

He checks the time on his phone. 

"The library? It's almost nine at night?"

You smile, raising your eyebrows. 

"Yeah? And?"

"Why would you want to go to the library at nine at night?" 

You suck your tongue. 

"I don't think it's a matter of want, it's a matter of need. This dissertation isn't going to write itself."

He stretches his lips into a sympathetic grimace. 

"Right, but that's what I'm saying. I can tell everyone to meet me at Benny's instead so you don't have any distractions?"

"Matt-"

"It's not a big deal at all. I can just message the group chat now and say--"

"Matt!"

He takes his phone out of his pocket again. 

"I told you - it's fine. I'll figure something out if I can't concentrate. Besides, you've decorated everything so nicely downstairs."

You grin just thinking about the tacky streamers and paper plates that have been laid out since yesterday morning in preparation. Matt reaches down to pick up one of your slippers and hurls it at your head. 

"Hey!"

"You said it looked good!"

"It does! It's just--"

He folds his arms across his chest. 

"It's just...I don't know...a lot of psychedelic foil..."

He drops his arms melodramatically. 

"But I'm sure your friends will love it," you continue. "They're into that kind of thing."

He laughs, turning away about forty-five degrees before swivelling back and pointing a finger at you. 

"I'll tell them you said that."

"Go ahead."

He rolls his eyes, takes a step out, then comes back again. You slap the table in feigned frustration. 

"What is it now?!"

"How are you feeling?"

Warmth radiates from inside your chest, spreading down your arms and legs, and pushing heat up into your face. You swallow it down, or try to at least. 

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Matt. I'm fine. It was nothing."

You can tell both of you are going over the same scenario in your head from last night. You hyperventilating in the middle of your bed from trying to keep your sobs inside for so long. You turning over and trying to cry silently into your pillow. Matt eventually coming through at two in the morning asking what was wrong. 

"It didn't seem like nothing."

"I know," you reply. "But it was. I phoned home today. And I feel a lot better now."