Luke Hemmings Imagines

He has a bad day

"Why do people have to be so mean?" He asked, so I sat down my book. It was a little past 9 p.m. and Luke had been laying under the blankets, facing away from me for about an hour.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, and rubbed his shoulder. "I was on Twitter and there were a bunch of people saying how I'm the fat one in the band. Then they said I sounded like I should star in Alvin and The Chipmunks. They said so many horrible things. Am I really that disgusting?" He asked quietly, so I laid down behind him. I scooted up to lean my shoulder against the headboard.

I ran my hand through his hair, and listened to his soft breathing. "Luke you are perfect. You are the nicest person I've ever met, and i don't know why people would try to bring you down." I whispered in his ear, and I looked down at him.

Luke has always cared about what people think of him, and he's always too shy to stand up for himself, or tell somebody to stop. "You are handsome, funny, sweet, caring, and have the most adorable dimples ever. You're not fat, and don't let people tell you that you are. I love you, and that's what matters, okay?" I said, and he nodded. I laid down, and wrapped an arm around his waist.

Whenever Luke had a bad day, he would always be the little spoon but would never admit it to the boys. He was embarrassed when Michael woke us up one day, and he was letting me hold him instead of him being the protective one.

I ran my hand through his hair, and placed small kisses under his ear.

"I love you." He whispered, and I smiled. "I love you too."

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