Demi Lovato Imagines

Don't let go

TW - EDs

She's lost so much weight. And the truth is, you've noticed it for a while.

You first started getting concerned when she stopped changing in front of you. She'd lock the bathroom door, bringing her change of clothes in with her, shutting you out completely. Then she started eating out. Or she says she's eating out, anyway, leaving you to sit at the table by yourself in the evening wondering if she would finally kiss you on the lips again tonight. It's been a while. That's another thing that's changed.

Maybe you're just being oversensitive but it hasn't escaped your attention that the last time the two of you spent any quality time together was weeks ago. Which is a strange considering you're a couple who lives and sleeps together. But it's true. She can barely mumble two words to you in the morning, leaving early to go to the gym, and falls dead asleep at night the minute her head hits the pillow, leaving you alone to wonder when you will finally broach the subject. You've got to be careful. You know how tricky this whole situation can be and your inability to strap on a pair and just come out with it scratches at your core. The longer you wait, the worse she's going to get, the night voices whisper. You know this already, though. I guess you just hoped that everything would work itself out in the end; that you were just paranoid.

By this point, you realise you have to stop kidding yourself.

You watch her as she sits on the sofa, hunched over her laptop as she types away. She's wearing that huge jumper she's always got on nowadays. It drowns her in its excess, waves of material dripping off her shoulders and arms. Out of the sleeves poke her hands which have become smaller, you're sure of it. The promise ring you gave her slides up and down her finger, threatening to fall to the floor any second. An accurate description of your relationship, to be honest. You doubt she's holding up her end of the promise you made to tell each other everything. Her hair, as well, falls like curtains over her pale face. It's long now. You can't remember the last time she took time away from her work or from the gym to get it cut. All these things, all these details, just add up and remind you of your duty to do the right thing. Your duty as her partner to keep her safe. Your duty to help her even though you know she doesn't want it.

"Dems?"

Her eyes don't leave her computer screen but her fingers falter on the keys. After a second, she regains her flow.

"Demi," you repeat a little louder from through in the kitchen.

"I'm working, Y/n," she replies simply, a thread of frustration in her voice. You've gotten used to that though.

"I know," you soldier on, "But I need to talk to you about something."

Still, she doesn't look up and the tapping of the keyboard is the only sound in the room, setting you on edge.

"Demi."

"Ugh, what is it?" she groans, throwing her head back and slamming the laptop closed. Your chest immediately feels three times smaller as you realise there's no turning back.

"I...I just wanted to ask if you were feeling okay? Like, you haven't been feeling unwell or anything recently?"

She scoffs slightly, but obvious enough for you to see.

"No. I'm fine, why are you asking? If that's all you want then I'll get back to my work," she says, lifting the screen up again, waiting for it to light back to life.

"Because...uh, because..."

You don't know how to say this. But you also don't think any way is going to be the right way.