Why Don't We One Shots

You're too good for me, Jonah Marais

Jonah had never quite experienced a day like this. He felt off—off in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was as if the energy that normally bubbled up inside him had disappeared overnight, leaving him sluggish and irritable. His head was pounding, a dull ache that seemed to follow him around the house as he tried to distract himself by cleaning or checking his phone, but nothing helped. His body felt heavier than usual, as if the weight of exhaustion had decided to settle into his bones.

He should have known better than to ignore the signs, but he'd always pushed through. The tours, the late nights, the endless rehearsals—it was the life he loved, the life he wouldn't trade for anything. But today, his body was drawing its own boundaries. Jonah sat down on the couch, arms loosely crossed over his chest, staring blankly at the wall. His head rested against the back of the cushions, eyes half-closed, only faintly aware of the soft hum of the air conditioning.

It wasn't long before his phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his stupor. He reached for it, barely registering the name on the screen, and answered with a soft grunt.

"Hey," came the voice on the other end, warm and comforting in its usual way. "How are you feeling?"

Jonah sighed deeply. "I'm... I'm alright, I guess. Just kind of tired."

The familiar voice on the other end didn't sound convinced. "Tired? You sound like you're about to collapse. What's going on?"

Jonah let his eyes close again. "I don't know. Just feeling kind of off today. My head hurts, and I'm just really drained."

There was a pause, a beat of silence that made him look at his phone. He could practically picture the worried expression on her face, the way she always looked at him when he tried to brush things off, the way she could tell when something wasn't right even if he refused to admit it.

"You should let me come over," she said after a moment, and Jonah smiled a little at the sincerity in her voice. "I'll bring some soup or something. You need to rest."

He chuckled softly, his voice laced with a small, raspy groan. "I don't need soup," he mumbled, "But if you want to come over... I wouldn't say no."

He could hear the quiet sound of her laughter through the phone, the kind that always made him feel a little lighter. "I'll be there soon. Stay where you are, okay? I'll take care of you."

Jonah hung up, feeling the tiniest bit of relief at her words. Maybe he was more tired than he'd realized, or maybe he was just craving the comfort she brought with her—either way, he knew she'd make everything feel a little better.

When she arrived, Jonah was still curled up on the couch, his face buried in a pillow. The door clicked open quietly, and he didn't even look up at first, his eyes heavy as if he could fall asleep at any moment.

But then he heard her voice, soft but full of concern. "Jonah?" she called, stepping into the living room with a bag in her hand. He turned his head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, and the look of worry on her face made his heart ache a little.

"Hey," he murmured weakly, offering a faint smile, though it felt as fake as the tiredness in his eyes.

"Hey," she replied gently, kneeling beside the couch. Her fingers brushed the side of his face, and he leaned into the touch without thinking, allowing himself to savor the small, grounding moment. "You look awful," she teased, but her voice was soft, almost tender.

Jonah let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, I feel worse."

She sighed, a mix of affection and concern in her voice. "You really should've let me know you weren't feeling well. I could've been here sooner."

He shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to bother you. You've got enough to worry about."

"I don't care," she said firmly, her hand resting lightly on his chest. "I'm here now, and that's all that matters. You're my priority."

Jonah's heart swelled with the warmth of her words. It was so easy to fall in love with her in moments like this, in the way she seemed to understand him without needing to be told anything at all. "Thanks, Y/N," he mumbled, his voice thick with gratitude. "You always know how to make me feel better."

She smiled, the kind of smile that lit up her eyes and made Jonah's chest ache in the best way. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? We'll take care of you."

For the next few hours, Jonah didn't have to do anything. He didn't have to be 'on' or try to make the day better. Y/N took care of everything—starting with the soup she brought, which she insisted he eat despite his protests. She had made it herself, something simple and soothing, and though Jonah wasn't usually one for the classic sick-day meals, he couldn't deny how comforting it was to have her look after him like this.

She sat with him, holding the bowl and feeding him little spoonfuls, occasionally wiping away the strands of hair that fell into his face when he would let out a groan of discomfort. His body was so tired, and yet there was something about the way she gently cared for him that made his heart feel full, made him feel loved in a way that went beyond the usual rush of affection.

"You're too good to me," he said, his voice muffled slightly as he took another sip of the warm broth. "I don't deserve this."

She smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear as she rested her hand on his shoulder. "You deserve all of it," she whispered, her eyes full of something he couldn't quite put into words, but that made him feel a little lighter despite the ache in his head.

As the night went on, Jonah found himself slowly drifting in and out of sleep, his body grateful for the rest. Y/N was there, her presence a soothing balm to whatever discomfort he felt. She'd softly hum songs she knew he liked, and the sound would wrap around him like a warm blanket. She didn't need to say much. In the quiet moments, when his hand found hers, when her fingers traced small circles on his wrist, he knew without a doubt that he was loved. And for once, he let himself fall into that love fully, surrendering to the feeling of being taken care of, cherished, and truly seen.

By the time Jonah woke up later that evening, the ache in his head had faded to a dull throb, and his body no longer felt like it was made of lead. Y/N was asleep beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, her breathing even and peaceful. He could feel her warmth against him, and the simple fact that she was there—beside him, with him, loving him—made him realize how lucky he was.

Jonah pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, then settled back into the couch, his fingers loosely entwined with hers. He closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax completely, knowing that with her by his side, everything would always be okay.

---

AN: This one is very similar to the last one but I had to make a Jonah version of it. Hope you enjoyed! As always, thanks for reading. Xx