Crush/Boyfriend Imagines

illness

" 'm sorry, can't make it today," his voice sounded sad over the phone. "I got sick, I think it's best to stay home." You could practically see his face in your head, buried in the pillow as he lay in bed - he was always a big baby if something bothered him.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose.  "You were sick two weeks ago," you complained, remembering him having a light flu. Now, you'll have to postpone your plans, again.

How do people even get sick so often? You were always the type of person who got sick once in a lifetime - and when you did, it was during the break or holidays, so you didn't even get to miss any school.

He hastily laughed, his voice muffled through the phone speaker, "Yes, I know. But I've been feeling weird since morning, it's not my fault!" he slightly raised his voice in defence at the end and you could picture him clearly with both his hands raised in the air at the sides of his head.

"Okay, okay," you quickly said, not wanting him to get all worked up, even though tou knew he wasn't actually angry and just joking with you. You paused for a bit too long, the words lingering on your tongue but never leaving your mouth.

He seemed to notice your unspoken thoughts for he breathlessly whispered, "come over and hang out in my bed?" There was a hint of hope in his voice as well, as if you had ever considered declining.

Despite the annoyance of not being able to go out together, hanging out inside was still better than nothing and you smiled to yourself, teasing, "but what if I get sick, too?"

You could feel him grinning as he replied, "you, sick? With your immunity of iron? Never!" At this point, you could not suppress the grin threatening to appear on your face as well. Your teeth glistening and you made an annoyed sound at his words. "Besides," he continued, much quieter this time, "I'll get better sooner if you spend time with me."

You weren't the type to blush, nor the type to swoon over silly acts or romance. Thus, you brushed off his words with a sneer and made your way inside your apartment. "Be there in twenty." You pressed the red button on your phone screen and took of your jacket. You didn't bother to eat lunch, knowing well enough you're going to cook some soup for him - so you might as well feast yourself too. You only quickly replaced the books in your bag with some spare clothes to sleep in and headed out.

Arriving at his apartment, you took out a spare key he's given you a long time ago and unlocked the door without bothering to inform him of your arrival. You peeking into his bedroom and found him sleeping, tangled in the covers, his head almost hanging off the bed. You dropped your bag down and muttering to yourself, you went over to position him better. Upon feeling your touch, his eyes fluttered open and he smiled at you, "hey."

His cheeks were a little red and you placed a hand on his forehead - he was burning up. "Sleep, I'll make you some soup and wake you up." Grabbing your bag, you moved to the kitchen. You left the door to his room open, though, so he could easily call if he needed anything. Putting the ingredients out from your bag, you set some music on low volume on your phone to keep you company while you whipped up a quick soup. First, you sloppily ate yours, trying to be as fast as possible and when you were done, you refilled the bowl with a new serving, grabbed a new spoon and went over to sit on the side of his bed.

Carefully shaking him, you whispered, "wake up, the food's ready."

"Mhm," he rolled over to you and you helped him sit up, putting a pillow behind his back. You scooted closer to him and started feeding him. His eyes remained closed as if it was hard for him to keep them open, but you didn't mind that his piercing gaze wasn't set on you. Even after all these years, you felt a bit more at ease if he wasn't scrutinizing your every move with his watchful eyes. Instead, you took the chance to observe his features as if you couldn't recognise him blind. He must've felt your gaze on him for he opened his eyes and looked directly at you.

"Y/n," your name left his lips, and nothing more. The spoon stopped midway in the air as you gazed at him. The corners of his lips turned into a smile, "thanks." His voice was soft.

You shook your head to get out of the haze and smiled back at him.

After he finished the bowl, you found a towel to wet with cold water and placed it on his forehead. As you were about to exit his room to clean up after cooking, his fingers wrapped around your wrist. "Stay here," he begged.

"I won't go anywhere - I'll stay the night." Trying to pry his grip off of you, you brushed a hand through his hair. "I'm just gonna go clean up."

He let go instantly, he knew you were saying the truth. And you did as you said, washing the bowl and spoons, putting the rest of the cold soup in the fridge. The sun was starting to set while you were walking here, now it was already completely dark outside. You went to his room again and found your bag. Taking the clothes you packed before out, you took off your shirt to change. When you were done and in fresh clothes, you turned around only to find him staring. It's not like he hasn't seen you naked a thousand times before, you had nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Come'ere," his hushed voice pushed through the darkness illuminated by a tiny lamp right into your ears. You skipped over as he made room for you in his bed and laid next to him.

"How are you feeling?" Your voice was calm and quiet, enjoying the moment.

"I think a little better than the morning," he replied, leaning on your shoulder. He looped his hand through yours and intertwined your fingers. "What do you want to do?" He was whispering, too, not wanting the break the peacefulness which had settled in the room.

"You should sleep, I'll just stay here," you told him with a slight smile, " I'm not tired, yet." Turning your head, you looked out of the window across the room. In the faint distance, you could see a bright ring of light - there must've been the moon near.

"I won't let you sit here alone," his brows furrowed.

"You know I don't mind and that you've done it countless times before." It was true, you often stayed up later than him. You usually weren't tired as soon as him, but you also liked to stay up later to think. His presence had a calming effect on your mind and you loved to let your thoughts drift off at the sight of the night sky. It was all you ever needed, stars and a hand to hold. Still, you never told him about this, some thoughts were just too personal to share even with the closest of people, reserved only for you only.

"I know, but I never mean to. I just always fall asleep against my will." He finished with a yawn and you couldn't help but laugh. Repositioning the towel on his forehead correctly to prevent it from slipping, you pushed him into the pillows.

"Sleep." And, just like all the other times, he fell asleep almost instantly, with his hand still in yours, leaving you alone with your precious thoughts and the night sky.