Demi Lovato Imagines

Forest Walks and Forest Talks

"Ugh!" you hear exclaimed from the next room. You're sitting on the sofa trying to finish your reading for college, and in all honesty, looking for any kind of distraction. 

"You alright?" you shout through. Demi, your girlfriend has been at home the past few days writing. Something to do with maintenance being done in the studio. Anyways, it has meant she has spent the last 96 hours couped up in her study trying to write her next album. And it's driving you insane! You thought this arrangement was going to mean you saw a lot more of your significant other but apparetnly, she's too busy to even come to the kitchen for dinner, or come to bed at a reasonable hour. Last night, you are cinvinced she just slept over her table as you don't remember her actually entering the bedroom at all. 

Having not heard a response to your question, you decide to investigate. Placing the open book face down beside you, you stretch out your stiff muscles and pad through to the source of her frustrated groan. Without knocking, you push the door gently open and peak your head round to see, what you can only describe as a ball pit. Except the balls are in fact scrunched up peices of paper sprayed across every inch of the floor. The only papers not crumbled are splewed out on the table that she is currently banging her head against in rhythmic fashion. Rolling her eyes at her over-dramatics you suppress a giggle and approach her from behind.

"Demi," you speak, placing your hands on her back and rubbing in comforting circles.

"Hm," she mumbles back, clearly not in the mood to talk.

"What's up?" you question, although you're pretty sure you already know the answer. 

After a moments pause she answers, 

"I can't come up with anything! Anything good! Everything I wirte just sounds so cringy or cryptic or depressing or... or something that wouldn't last two seconds on a radio station."

"Okay, okay!" you assure her, pulling back on her shoulders so that she can no longer hit her forehead on the wooden surface. You're no doctor but you're pretty sure that head banging is not a recommended treatment for writer's block.

"Maybe you should take a break," you caution, worried about her reaction so such a crazy suggestion, "obviously being in this room isn't doing much fro your creative juices."

"I can't take a break y/n! The deadline for this album is only getting closer...what if...what if I can't write good music anymore? What if this is the end?!"

Jesus Christ...

"Demi, listen to yourself! So what if you can't come up with anything right now, it doens't mean any of that! You just need to get out and look at something other than these four walls and these sheets of paper. Come on, we can go for a walk, or we could go to the beach...you choose. But it can't involve sitting inside and moping."

Huffing at your obviously brilling suggestion, she rubs her tired face with her hands,

"Okay, you're right. Can we just go for a run or something?"

"Sure! Let me change out of these jeans and we'll be on our way."

***

You had both been jogging for the best part of thirty minutes and you were loving it. Mainly because you were finally getting to spend time with Demi instead of constantly being met with the back of her head as she worked into the night. But also because you were certain your plan was working! Demi seemed more relaxed and was even laughing at the stupid things you came out with. Like how you were sure you were going to ger a hernia if you even ran one more block. But besides that, this was one of the most enjoyable forms of excercise you'd ever partaken in!