Why Don't We Imagines

Jack Avery - He Doesn't Believe You

"Y/N, I really think you should go home." Your manager, who also happened to be your best friend,  approached your desk as you typed away on your laptop.

"No, I have to get this done, it's a deadline." You told her, feeling the need to throw up.

"And I will finish it for you, if you go home and rest for a few days. For all I know you could be contagious and then everyone will end up sick." She shut your laptop. You leaned back in your spinny chair.

"Go home Y/N." She told you.

"I can't. I didn't drive here, Jack drove me here. He's got one of the busiest days today, especially with the new single coming out in two days. Just let me work." You groaned, clutching your stomach.

"I'm calling him." She left the room and you smacked your head against the desk. After fifteen minutes, she came back in your office and told you Jack was waiting. You thanked her before weakly walking to the front of the building, where Jack was in the car with an angry look on his face.

"You better have a good explanation Y/N." Jack groaned, speeding off before you had the chance to put your seatbelt on.

"I'm super sick." You whispered, not wanting to talk with the massive headache you were suffering with.

"Sure you are. You wouldn't have gone in to work today if you were sick. You were fine this morning." He muttered.

"No I wasn't, I tried telling you." He rolled his eyes at you as if you were lying. The rest of the ride home was pretty silent. When you pulled up into the boys driveway, Corbyn was stood by the front door, just ending his daily FaceTime call to Christina.

"Woah Y/N, you don't look so good." Corbyn rushed over to you.

"She's faking it." Jack groaned, locking the car.

"That's cause I don't." You ran over to the bushes and threw up in them. Corbyn kindly held your hair back, while Jack stood with one hell of a guilty face.

"You're alright baby, let it out." He whispered, taking over Corbyn's position and getting your hair out of your face. Once you had finished, Corbyn had kindly brought you tissues and a bottle of water.

"Thankyou Corbs." You weakly smiled at him, wiping your mouth and then taking small sips.

"Let's get you to bed." Jack had one arm on yours and the other around your waist, supporting your unsteady balance.

"You didn't believe me." You kept repeating, making your way up the stairs.

"I know and I'm so sorry. Not that it's an excuse, but I've had a super stressful day." He told you, draping the blankets over you.

"I love you baby, let me get you some medicine. You're staying in bed." He informed you before frantically running back down the stairs.