why don't we imagines

hard (c.b.)

Summary: Corbyn lets Y/n stay the night at his place when she knocks on his door

Corbyn jerked his head up at the sound of a faint knock on the front door. His hoodie was draped cosily over his head and his tired eyes were now focused on the wall opposite him. The printed frames of the band's accomplishments stood out brightly in the beams of a streetlamp's light that poured through the window. Corbyn stayed on the sofa, resting back against the cushions, and letting the dim T.V. screen grasp his attention again as he thought his mind was just playing tricks on him. On a measly, sluggish Wednesday night, who would even have the energy to show up at his place right now? Eben and Jonah went to bed just before midnight settled around them, painting the sky with deep jet black and shooting daggers of heavy raindrops from above along with loud thunder. They'd left only Corbyn awake to suffer through a painfully boring movie alone. It was something he did often just to soothe himself to sleep.

Sleep was always a struggle for Corbyn. Despite myriad attempts to figure out why, nothing ever seemed to shut his eyes. More often than not, he'd find himself on the living room sofa in the morning, and tonight was merely one of many nights where he'd hope to fall asleep with a T.V. show or movie mumbling in the background under the eeriness and coldness of the house.

Another knock came dancing along the quiet atmosphere. Corbyn glanced at the door again before his gaze flickered back to the T.V. 12:46am was shown at the corner of the screen. Deciding that whoever it was standing behind that door must've had a good reason to be, he tiredly lifted himself up with a quiet groan. Y/n's voice seeped into the house, gradually increasing in volume as he walked towards the door. It was weak and raspy - nothing like the usual softness Y/n's voice had.

"Y/n," Corbyn breathed, feeling the hood of his sweatshirt fall backwards as a cold gust of wind swept over him. Y/n shyly stood before him. Her hair dangled in two braids, although it was damp and dishevelled at the top and her mascara stained her cheeks in streaks like it'd been painted on her face. Corbyn's lips turned downwards into a genuine frown at the sight of her, not only visibly sad but shivering from the rain and cold that reddened her cheeks and soaked her clothes. His gaze stopped at her chapped lips when he heard her whisper. But the heavy downpour of rain engulfed Y/n's sorrowful murmurs, barely allowing her words to be heard over the pitter patter of raindrops hitting the ground, so he just let her in with a gentle tug of her wrist.

"Hi," Y/n tried again once the place quietened, looking up at him. The faint sloshing of her shoes had them both dropping their gazes to the floor, roaming from Y/n's boots to the small gap at the bottom of the door. A narrow trail of mud had followed her in from the welcome mat. "Sorry," She exhaled again, giving him an apologetic smile.

"No, that's okay," Corbyn assured her. He gave her time to take off her shoes before changing the subject. "It's nearly 1am." He chuckled humourlessly. "what're you doing here?" Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, he waited for her response. But when the eerie silence emerged again, he started thinking out loud with his own guesses. "Were you locked out of the house? Did you get in trouble?" He stopped for a second, catching his thoughts before they could travel to him. The one guy he really didn't want to be the cause of his best friend's sadness, or the reason she risked her own safety just to come over here. A ripple of hailstones came clattering against the rooftop and the loud sounds sent Corbyn out of his mind and back into the present.

"I didn't have anywhere else to go," Y/n mumbled, gazing towards him with an almost scared expression in slight fear that he wouldn't let her stay. But that wasn't the case at all. In fact, Corbyn loved when she stayed over, and when he noticed the small uneasiness in her expression, he assured her she was fine to stay with a gentle smile, regardless of the heart wrenching swirl of emotion inside him.