#the very last dimon fic

[ruinedthatfriendship]

All Fall Down

A/N: This is the last Dimon fic I ever wrote, according to the save date on the original file. Fittingly, it’s also the last fic I have to post out of my old drafts. 

In which Demi handles the aftermath of That Episode from the UK X Factor, everyone cries, and Simon gets the hugs he deserves.

After a while, lies become truth. If you absorb a lie long enough, live it long enough, put effort into convincing everyone it is real, eventually you convince yourself. Eventually you forget the naked truth, replace all of the raw reality with a shiny film of fantasy, and it becomes real.

It becomes real, but lies are always only ever made out of the thinnest glass. And sometimes all it takes is one shot to bring everything down around you.

For Simon, that one shot was a well-meaning singer from Billingham, the setting was a televised audition, and the broken fantasy suddenly raining down around his ears was comprised of just two little words: I’m fine.

He was the furthest from fine he’d ever been in his life, and his only goal in the world at the moment was keeping himself from falling apart entirely at the judges’ desk. But every word of that damned song was a perfectly aimed knife to the heart, cutting him into ribbons over again.

Because Lauren was gone. And Demi was long gone. And his mum--his mum, the sweetest woman he’d known--was gone.

He’d been numb since he got the news just days ago that she’d passed. He’d gone on to do the show anyways and waved off any concern because he was fine, he didn’t feel anything, and maybe that just made him as much of a heartless bastard as Demi had screamed in their last fight. What kind of man couldn’t mourn his mother?

No, he wasn’t heartless. He had one, and his grief had only been dormant, and this bloody song was a sucker punch.

His mind flitted suddenly to Demi’s old lyrics as he discreetly swiped a finger beneath his eye, almost bursting out into paradoxical laughter. I just ran out of band aids, I don’t even know where to start...you never really can fix a heart.

And she was gone too, making a life for herself without him, happy without him, better than ever. Thriving and singing and sober and, last he’d been able to bring himself to check, very much in love with a man who was not him. I’m jealous of the way you’re happy without me.

And Lauren was so far gone now. She’d left when Eric was barely six months old, with a shrug and a sad little smile and a promise to stay in her son’s life. She really hadn’t, and the whole of raising an entirely unplanned child had fallen to Simon. Who was, perhaps, the most well-meaning and least-prepared combination possible for a father.

And it had been his mother that he’d called when Demi left, tears in her eyes but yelling in anger, slamming the door on her way out. “Mum”,  he’d announced unceremoniously on the phone, swallowing hard and trying for unaffected. He failed miserably. “I’ve cocked everything up.”

And it had been his mother that he’d called when Lauren left him, dryly asking for parenting advice and completely beating around the bush that time until she’d wrestled out of him that he’d failed, again, that he’d chased off a second good-hearted woman and was doomed to a miserable existence of living with himself.

And now she was gone too. His fists were clenched in his lap, he was trying so damn hard to keep it together, and he had some horrible Frankenstein mash-up of the Labyrinth lyrics and Demi’s running around in his brain, threatening to choke him. He was jealous of her death, and that didn’t make any sense; he didn’t want to die, there was Eric to think about after all. He was jealous of her somewhere he couldn’t get to, she was beyond his reach. Forever.

“Take it to a vote,” he murmured to Cheryl, and briefly congratulated himself for keeping a steady voice long enough to confirm the third yes for the young singer.

And then he stood, his body warring from second to second between utter numbness and heart-shattering grief, and made his way off of the set as calmly as he could, the other judges following at a hesitant distance.

He could hear Cheryl, speaking louder than she thought she was. “I don’t know what to do, do I go...should I let him go?”

And again, he wanted to give into bitter laughter. There’s nothing you can do. But Simon knew that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t be able to stuff back inside the hysterical sobs currently stuck in his chest, and he was Simon Cowell and he wasn’t going to cry. Certainly not where anyone could see him.

So he wordlessly waved off his staff and tossed his microphone at one of them, and got onto the back of a golf cart in wretched silence, staring down at his hands in his lap and his wrists, unmarked.

Demi had always had a sixth sense for when he was upset, even if he tried not to tell her. And without fail, she’d take his hands and reflexively trace her Stay Strong script on his wrists, a source of comfort to herself she was passing on to him.

God, he missed her. And it was his own fault she was gone, he had no one to blame but himself for any of it.

***

In the airport in London, beneath the hoodie of an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of dark glasses, just in case, Demi was biting the inside of her lip absently, waiting for her bag on the carousel.

She’d come with just the one, a little overnight bag with next to nothing in it, took a commercial flight and sat in economy, and done it all without thinking. And now here she was, alone, because she’d stupidly decided to ditch her bodyguards and fly out without warning, with no idea what the hell she was doing.

She’d come for Simon, but that was about as far as that plan went. Simon, who had a girlfriend and a son and plenty of work, who wasn’t expecting her. Simon, who she’d screamed at and slammed a door on, and spent the next months of her tour sobbing her eyes out in bathrooms.

What was she even going to say when she saw him? How was she supposed to explain that Marissa had taken one look at her devastated expression when someone accidentally mentioned him, rolled her eyes, pointed at the door, and said exasperatedly, “Oh, just go get him!”

How was she supposed to explain that she’d almost turned around in LAX, but two women were gossiping next to her and that was how she’d heard about his mum and it had only solidified her spontaneous decision?

She knew she wasn’t exactly welcome at the best of times. And better yet, how was she even going to find him? Knocking on the front door wasn’t exactly an option.

Spying her plain black bag, she yanked it off of the belt with a bit more force than was strictly necessary, making a noise of frustration and walking out to the street, waving down a cab awkwardly.

On the scale of every bad decision she’d ever made, this one was pretty close to the top. Demetria, what are you doing?

Without thinking, she gave the driver Simon’s London address, only panicking after he’d turned the second corner. This wasn’t going to work. This was a terrible idea. She was going to kill Marissa. It wasn’t even Marissa’s fault for finally intervening in two years of Quietly Sad Demi. Jesus Christ.

Demi’s stomach was all anxious, terrified butterflies by the time she paid the cab driver and got out onto the curb, letting her bag drop to the ground next to her feet.

It occurred to her then that she had nowhere better to go, and no idea what the code to his gate was anymore, and this was quite possibly the stupidest situation she’d ever gotten herself into.

She dragged her bag the few meters over to lean up against the gate around his property, bracing one foot up behind her and jamming her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. She’d chosen this outfit on purpose, to avoid standing out and catching any attention, but Demi was well aware that she probably also looked like a random vagrant lurking outside Simon Cowell’s house.

She contemplated ringing the bell, but odds were against him being home anyway. That, and doing so would actually summon him if he was. For all her ridiculously hasty arrival, she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to see him again, and get punched in the chest with all of those emotions all over again.

She wasn’t ready to rip open old wounds, wasn’t ready to play visitor to his happy little family. But she wasn’t strong enough to turn away, couldn’t stop herself. After all this time, she still needed him, and she thought that just maybe, if there was ever a time for him to need her again, this was it.

Demi wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, scrolling through her phone and sending a few panicked texts to Marissa--as of yet, unanswered--when his car pulled up. She looked up, startled, already trying to retreat further into the depths of her hoodie, but Demi squared her jaw instead. It was only Simon. And she was Demi freaking Lovato, and she wasn’t going to be afraid of this.

She pushed herself slowly off of the gate, tucking her phone into the back pocket of her skinny jeans, tilting her head slightly as she tried to peer inside of the car he hadn’t even bothered to park properly. Between the tint of his windows and her sunglasses, she couldn’t really see much, just enough to make out the silhouette of his head, slumped forward on his arms against the steering wheel. Oh, Simon.

Her reaction was just instinctive. Demi didn’t think twice about pushing that hood back and stripping off her sunglasses, shaking her dark hair out and walking toward him.

He opened the door before she got close, wearily unfolding long legs and slamming the door shut for all he was worth, not sparing a glance for the small woman coming up the sidewalk. His white shirt looked wrinkled and his eyes were red, lips pressed together tightly, and Demi’s heart clenched, a lump already forming in her throat.

She opened her mouth to call to him just as he finally glanced her way, and their eyes locked. Simon froze completely, and Demi started running.

He didn’t catch her, didn’t speak, didn’t do anything but stand there while she crashed into his chest and hung on, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing.

“What in the bloody hell,” he finally said hoarsely, and she wondered how much he’d been crying.

She tilted her head up, propping her chin on his chest, and smiled gently. “Hi, Simon.” It may have been a stupid greeting, but there would be time to kick herself later. For now, there was enough on her plate. Simon blinked at her rapidly for a long moment, long enough for Demi to worry if she’d really shocked his poor old man heart too much, and she watched his eyes well up again. “Baby,” she whispered almost involuntarily. It wasn’t pity, it wasn’t reflexive sympathy, it was just love. Love that she’d never stopped feeling, not when it came to him.

And that was enough. Simon lurched forward against her, his arms coming up around her ribs tight enough to ache, and he buried his head in her shoulder with a heartbreaking sound tearing from his throat that she’d never heard before.

Demi just let him hang on for a long moment, breathing evenly against his vice grip, one of her hands running soothingly over his back. “I don’t know how to get inside,” she finally murmured calmly. “Come on, I’ve been out here for like an hour.”

Simon didn’t appear to have heard her. “I’m sorry,” he choked out against her skin, shaking against her.

Demi felt her own eyes stinging, and bit the edge of her tongue stubbornly. Now was not the time to fall apart. “Shh, come on, Si, let’s go inside.”

She took a step backwards, pulling him with her, and carefully pried herself out of his grip, keeping one of his hands in hers to tug him along.

He keyed in something and let her walk up to the house with him in tow, his free hand over his face. He wasn’t sure she was real yet, had no idea what to make of her sudden presence here. And she was simultaneously a relief and making everything worse, and she was only going to break him further when she left, but all he could do was hold onto her, feeling like a lost little boy.

They made it as far as the staircase. Demi wasn’t really sure what had just happened, but she was suddenly sitting down halfway up the stairs with Simon beside her, turning into her body and giving into heart wrenching sobs once more.

Demi’s lip quivered, and she hugged him tighter. “Baby,” she whispered thickly. One of her hands found his, and she rubbed her thumb across the inside of his wrist absently, her other arm hugging him tightly against her. “Shh, I’ve got you.”

For some reason, that little gesture only broke him further. He was mumbling something into the grey material on her shoulder, words that broke her heart when she finally understood them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Simon, shh,”

“It’s not okay,” he returned heavily, and Demi winced. She’d assumed that his apology was unconnected to losing his mom--what could he have to apologize for there? But it was still a thoughtless reply, given the circumstances.

“No, not really,” she whispered, rubbing soothing patterns across his back. “It’s not okay, and it sucks, but you’re going to get through it. I promise.”

Simon just sniffed, hugging her tighter. “She’s gone, Demi.”

Demi’s voice broke too as she replied, squeezing his hand as a comfort to both of them. “I know, Si, I know. I’m so sorry. And I wish I could have met her, but I know how wonderful she was. And she loved you so much.”

His mum’s love wasn’t really something he tended to question, but in a moment of weakness, he still found himself returning softly, “How would you know?”

Demi sniffed, and let out a little laugh, shaking her shoulder enough to dislodge him and force him to meet her brown eyes. “Because I love you. And if she could see half of what I see, she’d love you just as much. And she was your mum,” she emphasized the British variant with a smile, “which means she definitely knew you way better than I do.”

“Demi…” Simon mumbled, the only thing he knew how to say anymore. Just her name, just her touch, just her.

She seemed to realize the implications of what she’d said, and drew back a little. “Is...is Lauren home, Simon?”

Simon’s face clouded, and he glanced away from her. “No,” he said simply. “She’s not.”

Demi swallowed, biting her lip hesitantly. There was more to that story, she could tell, but now wasn’t the time. “These stairs are not comfortable, Simon,” she said instead, trying for a little of her teasing brattiness.

It worked, and she saw the darkness recede from his eyes somewhat. He stood slowly, holding both hands out to her, and pulled her to her feet, leading her the rest of the way upstairs.

He went to his bedroom, Demi following on his heels, and ended up standing in the middle of the room, looking lost.

Demi sighed, and perched on the edge of his bed. “Do you want to take a shower?” she finally suggested, when he didn’t seem to gain any more direction.

His eyes flicked to hers. “What about you?”

“I’ll be right here,” Demi nodded firmly, gesturing to the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Simon seemed to doubt that very much, but the slump in his shoulders and curl of his spine spoke of defeated acceptance, like he knew she’d leave and had given up on doing anything about it.

“I’ll be right here,” Demi whispered again, and waited for the door to the ensuite to close completely behind him before she launched herself at one of his pillows and screamed briefly into the white fluff.

There was so much pain contained in that man, more than she could attribute to just his mom, and she wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t making it worse. Demi would have given just about anything to strip it away from him, bring back the Simon she remembered from so long ago, laughing behind his hand at some contestant on the stage, holding her hand beneath the table.

She just had to have faith that they could get there again. Together. And it started here, with her promise to stay, which she had no intention at all of going back on.

Demi pulled her hoodie off over her head, leaving her in just a dark green tank top, and let herself lie back on the bed she’d stayed in once before, smiling in spite of herself at the familiar, quintessentially Simon scent surrounding her.

She’d just taken a nearly twelve hour flight, crossed multiple time zones and then emotionally exhausted herself with Simon. Demi didn’t think twice about slipping between his sheets and hugging the pillow, closing her eyes and breathing in the familiar smell of cologne and mints and cigarettes and the shampoo he always used, thinking that maybe, in spite of everything, she was almost coming home.

And that was how Simon found her nearly an hour later, when he finally dragged himself out of the bathroom, fully expecting to be greeted by an empty house. She had to be too good to be true, didn’t she?

Instead, his brat was curled up asleep, holding onto his pillow and looking surprisingly peaceful, all things considered. Relief flooded him, and he bit the end of his tongue as he moved to his closet, refusing to cry again. Now that he’d opened the dam of emotions, stopping it was harder than he’d thought.

But a sleeping Demi wasn’t a reason for tears. It was a reason to just climb in with her.

She woke to Simon slipping his arm around her waist from behind, a soft smile spreading over her lips as she turned over her shoulder to see him. “Hi,” she murmured, still sleepy.

“Hey, brat,” his voice was still a wreck from crying, but steady, the familiar nickname making her relax. If he could joke, they’d be okay.

Simon pressed a soft kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder, tucking her body against his. “Thank you,”

Demi just shrugged, smiling up into his face. “Where else would I be?”

His eyes clouded slightly, and he looked away from her gaze. “I am sorry, Demi. For everything.”

“I don’t really care about that anymore,” Demi said softly, biting her lip. And maybe she was supposed to, and of course they’d have things to figure out, but if his mom’s death had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t want to waste any time being angry about the past.

Still, as much as she wanted to just melt into his arms and fall all the way back into him, in every sense of the word, there was something she needed to know. “Simon,” she sighed, wondering if the answer was going to damn them completely. “I need to know, babe. Where’s Lauren?”

He exhaled, his breath tickling the hair at the base of her neck. It took him a while to reply, and when he finally did, it was simple. “She’s gone, Dem. She left...I haven’t seen her in a year. Eric’s with a sitter while I’m at work.”

Her immediate relief that she wasn’t in their bed right now was tempered by a rush of fury, that Lauren could leave, that she could abandon her son and walk away from the best man she was ever going to find.

“I’m sorry,” Demi said finally, slowly, lacing her fingers with his over her ribs. “For her, really… She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Simon just held her tighter and pressed his lips to hers, moving on top of her with a familiar weight as she deepened the kiss. And Demi knew without a doubt that whatever else happened, in that moment, she’d made it home.

[redrose-arrow]

👀👀👀

[for the ask, of course]

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

okayokay- i have to admit that i had to jump into my "abandoned fanfics" folder for this, because i knew i didn't remember them all lmao. anyhow, here's a few fics that will never see the light of day.

Coffeeshop AU. I basically have a very elaborate modern AU for the entire series, but it's so much that it's impossible to get onto paper with a proper structure, and I kinda don't wanna. This one's mine and mine only, I think haha.

Queen of Broken Hearts. i would love to finish it, but i think some stuff has gotten a liiiiittle too personal lmao. here's the blurb, though:

In a drastic turn of events, Cassandra is losing the high ground in her duel with the traitorous Dimon. Maddie’s arrow hits him right in the heart, but not before her distanced cousin throws one last, well-aimed blow. A deadly one. Now the Kingdom of Araluen is left without its beloved ruler, the sickly King without his regent daughter, the Royal Champion without his Crown-Princess wife, and the first female Ranger’s apprentice without her mother. To save her Kingdom from falling apart, Maddie must settle into a role she is unprepared for and quit an apprenticeship she holds dear. But how can she keep her Kingdom together when she can’t even keep herself together? And how can her friends and mentors advise her when they’re fighting their own demons? Broken-hearted, Araluen’s legends must face their past and their future, to save themselves and their Kingdom one last time… 

Forgotten Foes. I have a bunch of chapters but they're just really really bad and unfinished and no one needs to have proof of that. only thing i like is the blurb:

Revenge is by some considered to be a belied concept. Knowing that one always served people what they truly earned can keep a person happy and serene. Not that Will Treaty thinks about revenge. Especially not since life is finally getting on well; in possession of his own loving family and caring friends, he lives peacefully in the cabin in the woods. Until a series of escalating coincidences catches the attention of the Ranger Corps. Not everything may be what it looks like, but if you don't see anything, even Rangers cannot tell what is going on. When it appears that forgotten foes have returned from the past, Will learns what revenge means to some people and he is forced to make a fatal decision.

then there's a beautiful one, which i wrote when i was petty over TRR getting too much hate. the author's note says "here's an alternate plot for the Royal Ranger. you like that? i don't think you will" and then there's the first chapter, which is basically Pauline telling Alyss and Will something, and Alyss's hands are shaking but she tries to stay strong for Will, who is in shock. I'll let you figure out what that's about. and i think you can then also figure out why it'll never see the light of day.

and realistically? i don't think i'll ever be happy enough with the gilan/selethen chapters to post those.