Joe Sugg | Imagines

Taking Care

"Joe?" You ask, pushing his bedroom door open.

"Go away...." He whines, pulling his duvet over his head. He groans and rolls over, twisting the blankets around him, as he notices that you don't leave, but sit on the edge of his bed. "Y/N... Go away..."

"I brought you soup," you say, sitting the cup of soup on his bedside table. You pull the duvet back from him face, pushing his hair away so you could feel his forehead with the back of your hand.

He smacked your arm away. "Get away from me," he growled, rolling away from you.

"Joe, I'm j-" You start.

"No! Shut up and leave me alone, Y/N!" He snaps.

You raise your hands in surrender, "Fine. I hope you have fun dying alone." You stomp out of the room, going to the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

You went and sat on the couch next to Caspar who was watching Netflix. "Is everything okay?" He asked.

"He's just being a bitch," you grumbled. Caspar didn't say a word, just sitting back and watching his show. You didn't push the issue. You just train your eyes on the television.

Two episodes later, your phone dings quietly on the sofa arm. You pick it up, looking at the screen. come back. A text from Joe.

Why? You press send.

Another ding. help me.

You release a sigh, no matter what, you couldn't deny that you loved him which meant that you would do anything for him. So, you lifted yourself from the couch, and padded down the hall of the apartment. You push open the door to Joe's bedroom to find him lying over the edge of his bed, throwing up in a wastebasket. You take a seat beside him, rubbing his back softly.

"I'm dying..." He mutters, staring into the trash can.

"I can tell, but you'll be okay," you say, holding his sickly body against you as he sipped shakily at the glass of water that you had brought him earlier in the day.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay. Now, lay down and get some rest."

"Stay with me," he says meekly, although it comes out more as a question.

"I don't know anywhere else I would rather be."

*next day*

"Y/N!" Joe whined.

"What?" You asked, not looking up from your laptop as you quietly typed a paper for one of your classes.

"Can you make me soup?" he asked, staring up at you with wide blue eyes.

"I'm busy, Joe."

"Please, Y/N?"

You huffed, closing your laptop before setting it to the side. You pushed yourself off of the bed. "What kind?"

"Chicken noodle..."

"Okay."

"Will you bring me a drink too?" Joer shouts as you twist the door nob.

"Fine," you grumble, walking out the door and making your way down the hall to the kitchen. You grab a pot from the cabinet and a can of soup. "Cas? Do you want anything while I have the stove on?" You ask the other inhabitant of the flat who was sitting cozily in his sofa crease.

"No. I think I'm okay, Y/N," he says, sipping at the drink that he has in his mug.

You simply nod, filling a glass with water and shaking a few pills into the palm of your hand. You bump the door to Joe's bedroom open with your butt and set the glass of water of the table by his bed and hand him the pills.

He looks up at you. "I asked for soup..."

"It has to cook, Joe."

He groaned, flopping against his pillow. "I just want soup."

"I know. It's on the stove now," you say softly, petting Joe's hair softly.

He grabbed your other hand and began playing with the charm bracelet he had gotten you for your birthday. "I like this one," he says.

"Yeah, me too." You smile softly at him.

He tugs your hand, forcing you to sit next to him. He laid his head against your shoulder. "Thank you..." He mumbles.

"For what?"

"Staying."

BY: writerofimagination on tumblr