Conor Maynard Imagines

Why you?

You paused as you approached the front door to Conor's flat and took a deep breath trying to prepare yourself for what state you'd find him in when you entered. The tears started to build up in yours eyes and you willed yourself to keep your composure for his sake.

Just a couple of months ago Conor started experiencing some health issues, he had a persistent cough which got worse last month when he started coughing up blood. He finally relented and visited the doctor only to find out it was much more serious than he thought. He was immediately referred to a hospital and there was told he had lung cancer. Stage 3.

A week or so later he had an operation removing as much of the affected tissue as possible and now he'd just finished his first round of radiotherapy and chemotherapy which had to be given together due to the size and awkward positioning of the cancer. It all happened so fast and in all honesty, you were still finding it hard to process everything.

However, you weren't finding this nearly as difficult as Conor. So much had changed for him that he'd practically been forced to live a whole new life. He couldn't go and have fun with his mates, he'd lost nearly all of the masses of energy he always had, he couldn't laugh without wincing in pain and he couldn't breathe well enough to try and sing.

You and the boys, especially Jack, had been busting a gut looking after him for the last few weeks after refusing to lump him off with some random district nurse. No matter what state you saw him in you all refused to give in because you knew this was best for him, he needed to be surrounded by those who cared for him the most.

When you finally pulled yourself together you walked into the apartment, you winced at the smell of vomit that laced the room something that was common here now yet you still hadn't got used to it.

"Hey," you heard a voice speak and you turned your head to see Caspar in the kitchen.

"Oh hey Casp, what are you doing here?" your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you thought he was out with Joe all day.

Caspar was about to tell you, a slightly guilty look spreading on his face, when you heard a voice yell from upstairs, "Caspar, can you hurry up please?"

"Coming," he yelled back and gave you an apologetic before picking up the two pills and glass of water from the side and walking upstairs leaving you alone.

After regaining your sense, you rushed up the stairs after him and walked in to find a clearly very agitated and pained Conor with Joe and Caspar. You closed your eyes for a second, still finding it painful to see him this way before opening them again and plastering a false smile on your face.

"Y/N," you heard Conor mumble when he noticed you were in the room.

He held his hand out to you and you walked over to him, firmly clasping his shaking hand in yours.

"Hey baby," you cooed and leaned down to kiss his forehead.

You sat at the top of the bed and repositioned his head to rest in your lap, smiling softly as you watched him cuddled into your legs. You ran your fingers through his soft hair and watched in relief as he started to calm down and fall asleep, the pills he was given obviously doing their job.

"Sorry we didn't call, he promised us not to because he didn't want to bother you or Jack," Joe told you once he'd noticed that Conor was asleep.

"Don't be sorry, you were doing just fine without me anyway. Sorry you missed your day out," you smiled up at them sincerely.

"It was our choice to come here, we didn't mind. We were having a good time until about 10 minutes before you got back anyway," Caspar reassured you.

"We do have to leave now though because we will definitely be late for our meeting, sorry," Joe added.

After you'd said goodbye to them and promised you would call if you wanted them you were left alone with Conor.

He grimaced slightly as he shifted in his sleep showing how the surgery had added to his already long list of cancer side effects. His shaky breathing that would falter every so often and the can of oxygen sat in the room being an all too real reminder of his condition.

"What did you do to deserve this?" you whispered to him softly.

When he first got diagnosed Conor had expected you to leave him, he even told you he wouldn't blame you if you did but you refused to leave the man you love. Ever since that day he'd been expecting you to go at some point but you were still right there with him.

Regardless of how pale he looked, how many times he vomited, the amount of hair he lost or any other side effect cancer could throw his way it wasn't going to lessen your love for him.