yungblud imagines || d.h

maroon (midnight rain pt 2)

i feel my toes wiggle as my body begins to wake.

the sheet's warmth wrapped around me; i don't want to move. my brain feels like it's balanced on a tightrope thousands of feet in the air. i really wished i'd stopped after my ninth shot at the afterparty. i debate opening my eyes because i know i will regret it the second i do.

my stomach is empty, i'm starving and nauseated. "fuck," i whimper. the smell of vanilla and coffee fill the bedroom, and my eyes open out of reflexive response. "fuck, what the shit," they burn at instant penetration of light through the windows. i reach for the advil on my nightstand; it's not there.

lifting myself up a bit, i'm suddenly realizing my familiar surroundings...except they're not mine. these sheets weren't mine, this shirt wasn't mine, my clothes are nowhere to be found, this room isn't mine.

shit.

he comes in, shirtless, with loose shorts, pink socks, coffee in hand. "oh shit, i meant to bring you some advil up," he whispered, probably for my immense headache raging in and out of my skull. "here, one second," he sets a mug down at the bedside, and pulls the curtains in before heading to his bathroom.

i try not to think too fast, knowing my mind won't keep up. how the fuck did i get here? i examine myself in a giant black tee shirt. i turn to look in the mirror on the wall next to me:

my make up is gone.

my face is bare...clean.

my hair is well kept, brushed through, pulled into a low ponytail.

i reach for the coffee mug to see my lashes laying next to it and a glass of ice water. my torso is struck by a vibrant tingle. i hear the pattering of his steps; i sip my coffee to talk considerably less. he always made me mumble and ramble like an idiot.

the dim lighting of the bedroom highlights him perfectly. his arms were toned, he has a new tattoo, the light catches his face in all his glory, which also looks a bit damp...he must have splashed himself, and a two blue tabs in hand just for me. he approaches me and i notice something that wasn't there the night before.

fuck.

"thank you," i take the tabs from him, trying not to stare. i pop them fast with two swift sips of water.

"how'd you sleep," he whispers.

i glance very fast to this collar bones, marked in different stages of purples, blues, and maroons, and back to his eyes as fast and discreet as i could be. he sits in front of me, but he doesn't touch me, and there's a very small gap between us,

"i must have slept great to feel as heavy as i do."

he chuckles, almost selfishly to keep the volume almost to himself. "well, tequila shots and old fashioned's will do that to you, love." i take another sip of coffee to hide the smirk he had mustered to my lips.

"we didn't do anything, if that's what you're wondering about, y/n," my brows pop up, almost in real surprise.

he stands up for a moment, his hand reaches out to my face, i'm almost hoping he'll grab my face and just, "we almost did, but," he brushed a strand of hair out of my face, "we should both be self aware to make a choice like that." a mental sigh escapes my brain as he walks to his closet.

when i close my eyes, all i see is him, sitting in the same spot he's in now, with puffy, red eyes, pale face, his hair tossed around, his sobs are silent, but his expressions have no slip in solidarity...

"dom, i thought you would be more happy for me,"

he drinks the small amount of liquor from his whiskey glass, standing in the door way as i pack my bag.

"y/n, i'm more happy for you than beyond words but i fuckin' love you. why do you feel the need to throw this away?"

"because i don't want this opportunity to feel like it was fucking handed to me, dom!" his expression softens a bit. he sets his glass down on the dresser, "y/n, you are so extremely fucking talented," and calmly walks my way, "i remember the day i met you so fuckin' clearly." my eyes close as his words become a motion picture in my mind.

"you were playing that same guitar, covering songs, singing your own! i stood there for about a solid twenty minutes before i ever felt such a privilege to walk up to you." i watch as he kneels in front of me, i'm towering over his puppy dog eyes as the weep into my jeans, his arms wrapped around my torso, clinging on for dear life.

"dom please, just give it time. i have to see where this goes," i kneel down to the point that our heights are almost evened out, my hand entangle into his hair, "please just trust me," i can't bare looking at him as the tears have no barrier in my eyes. i knew he wouldn't be looking because he hates seeing me cry.

i think we cried into each other for about an hour after that, but i knew he had accepted my wish. he respected it. in fact he respected it so much, during dom's off season, once i finally got into the studio, he sent me flowers to congratulate the official birth of my first album, along with tom to document the journey.

for the first couple of months, dom was the voldemort of all conversations. i was never sure why. and then we started getting into touchier songs for the album, i remember one day tom sat on the outside of the booth, camera rolling from a side angle catching everything. it was just me and the grand piano, that was one of the worst days.

"my boy was a montage,
a slow motion,
love potion,
jumping off things in the ocean...i broke his heart because he was nice..."

i couldn't help but picture dom when i closed my eyes.

all the nights we passed out in his bedroom floor, drunk on cheap wine.

the night we danced through his kitchen, he chased me down the hallway, the wine spilling all over my tee shirt. i was too happy to care...

what the fuck have i done?

tom cuts the camera the second my voice croaks and the keys enter a melancholic tune.

"hey hey, y/n, hey." i can feel tom's presence beside me. his hand rests on my back, as i sob quietly.

"please don't tell him about this," i beg him.

"hey, he knows you're doing what you have to do. beyond that, this album is yours, you only share what you want to be heard."

i confided in tom a lot when we partnered up to document the process. he'd really become my best friend.

"i miss him so much," i cry out before taking the water bottle he was handing to me.

we ended up talking for over an hour before i ever even had the want to record the song again.

"y/n?"

"what? yes. hi, what?" i'm completely lost. had he been talking this whole time?

"you just," he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed in-front of me, "zoned out, love."

this hangover honestly felt like it was just getting worse. "sorry i'm not exactly," i wave a hand gesture over myself. he laughs at my action, "well you're just as gorgeous as the las time i saw you." he gives me a smile, "adam is going to be by in a bit and he's bringing breakfast, i asked him to get your favorite." he stands up, "take whatever you need from the drawer," the water, the advil, "and your clothes are drying as we speak, but until then, you're more than welcome to my closet." he throws on a tee shirt that had been laid out, and exits the room.

i need to get back home. but i have so many questions.