zayn malik imagines

sick

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You hadn't heard from Zayn, other than texting, for the last few days, but it didn't really surprise nor bother you as you knew that he was in the middle of some important meetings and preparations for the band.

None the less you were happy when his name lit up your phone screen, "hey babe, how are your meetings going?" But instead of a reply, you only heard a coughing on the other end of the line, which was quickly followed by static and rustling before a clear voice finally rung through.

"Y/N?" the voice questioned, making you immediately realise it wasn't your boyfriend. "Yeh" you answered cautiously. "Oh, thank god, it's taken so long to steal his phone, to call you," the voice, which you finally recognised as Liam's, said.

"Steal," you repeated in confusion, "why did you have to steal Zayn's phone to call me, couldn't he just have called me himself?" You asked becoming increasingly more confused.

"Sorry" Liam said, "I should explain.....it's Liam by the way" he announced. making you laugh, "I know" you answered, allowing him to continue.

"Anyway, Zayn's sick, but you know how he won't admit he's sick" Liam started. making you hum your agreeance. "Well he is sick, but none of us can convince him to go see a doctor and were kind of hoping that you could, I think it might be tonsillitis," he told you.

You were thoughtful for a moment, trying to figure out how to help your sick boyfriend when you weren't even in the same place, "well I can certainly try, can you put him on the phone, I'm assuming that was him coughing earlier?" you requested.

"Yeh course, but I'll just warn you he can't talk much." Liam told you before you could once again here rustling followed by a raspy voice, "hi love" Zayn greeted you, the scratchiness of his voice making you cringe.

"Zayn Malik, how can you still be pretending you're not sick I can't even see you and I can tell you're sick" you scolded, cutting straight to the chase.

"'m not sick" he grumbled back at you. "Oh Zayn for God's sake, don't be ridiculous, either you book an appointment for the doctors, or I will fly over there and drag you to one myself."

There was silence on the other line for a moment, while Zayn considered your options, he would love for you to come see him, but he really didn't want to go to the doctors so he decided to take the easy route, "fine I'll go," he conceded, not thinking that you would actually check up with the other boys.

But you were true to your word, the next night you called Liam back and asked him if Zayn had gone to the doctors and when he informed you that he hadn't, he then helped you to book the next flight out to where the boys were.

When you arrived the boys were more than happy to let you into Zayn's room. It was still early in the morning and when you entered the room you found Zayn still curled up tightly under a mound of blankets, mouth hanging open sucking in loud breaths of air.

You walked over to the bed and sat down gently, reaching out to softly run a hand through Zayn's dishevelled hair. After a moment he shifted slightly in his sleep and let out a groan, his eyes fluttering open slowly until you were looking down into his glassy, bloodshot eyes.

"Y/N?" he questioned in a croaky voice, visibly wincing as the speech burned his throat. "Yeh babe," you greeted gently, feeling more sorry for him than anything else, now that you could see how miserable he was. "Wha' you doin 'ere" Zayn mumbled in a strained voice.

"I told you I would come if you didn't go to the doctors" you told him with an expectant look. Zayn groaned again, "can't we just cuddle, my throats sore and swollen and I have a headache?" he asked with a pout, holding open the covers and shifting over slightly.

"That's exactly why your appointment is at 12:30" you told him sternly, "but let me get you some tea first and then we can cuddle until then, sound good?" you asked.

Zayn whined at the thought of the doctors but nodded his head anyway, watching you as you walked across the room and made him a cup of tea to sooth his throat, opening his arms wide for you when you returned. You happily crawled into his arms, handing him the tea and watching him take a sip, followed by the sigh of relief as the warm liquid helped his painful throat. "I'm glad you're here," Zayn told you, "I feel better already."

You smiled, "that's good, but you're still going to the doctors" you told him earning another more pronounced pout, "But Y/N" he whined, adopting his usual whiny nature when sick.

"Zayn, you're going and that's final, you're not going to be singing anytime soon if you don't," you started to rant but when you looked towards Zayn again, he was fast asleep once again, making you sigh as you knew you were going to have to wake him up again soon and drag him out of bed.

A couple of hours later you had managed to drag Zayn from bed and despite more protests, get him to the doctors.

As the boys and yourself had predicted, Zayn had been diagnosed with tonsillitis and had been prescribed antibiotics and put on vocal rest. The medication he was at least half ok with, it was the vocal rest he had an issue with as he couldn't whine or protest you as you looked after him with more tea, soup and the constant checking of his fever as well as refusing to let him get out of bed to continue any of the boys planned meetings.

Instead you were met with a constant pout and scribbled notes handed to you by the half sleep boy.

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