IMAGINES •-• New Hope Club

Blake ~ Sick

Requested by @cuddlesblake but I wrote it in y/n form 💓💓 hope you like it ❤️

My boyfriend Blake doesn't bound off stage like usual and I immediately know something is wrong. He walks, trying to keep his head up, trying to look happy, upbeat, but it's off.

His two best friends jump before him and rush over, babbling with excitement and adrenaline. I hug them quickly and brush past to where Blake is trailing behind.

I pull him into a hug, he wraps his arms around me, weakly.
"What's wrong?", I ask him, feeling concern settle into my stomach, like lead.
"Nothing. That was brilliant", he smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes and I know he is trying to brush off whatever is wrong.
"Blake has something happened?", I ask him, leaning close so that it's just us.

"No. I'm fine", he answers. He takes my hand and walks towards the dressing room.
When his back is turned to me I mouth towards George "what's wrong with Blake?", to which he simply shrugs.

I sigh. Blake settles himself onto the sofa, as Reece and George begin to change after the show.
I go and sit, taking my boyfriends hand. He smiles at me as I begin to draw small circles on his palm with my fingers.

"You know you can tell me if something's upset you. I'm your girlfriend", I remind him gently.
"It's nothing. I just feel a bit dizzy, I'm not upset", he smiles.
"You're sure?", I ask and he nods.
"Do you want to get some air?" I ask and he nods again.

I tell George and Reece that we are going for a small walk and they ask if we are okay.
"Fine", I reply, "Blake just isn't feeling well"

As we walk outside, Blake closes his eyes tightly.
"What's wrong?", I fuss.
"Just the cold air. I don't feel very well", he replies.
"Maybe we should just head straight back to the hotel?", I suggest.
Blake just nods and I suspect he must be feeling terrible if he doesn't even have the strength to reply.

I hold his clammy hand tightly as we cross the road and he leans on my shoulder as we walk toward the lift.

"Blake. What exactly is wrong? I'm kinda starting to worry", I don't want to alarm him, but the way he is acting is anything but good.
"Umm. My head feels light. Dizzy", he gulps, "I feel like I might throw up and I have a pounding... headache", he stumbles through his words. I feel my chest tighten, I hate seeing him in pain.

This time he doesn't try to assure me he's fine.
We get into the room we are sharing and I lead him towards the bed. He practically falls onto it and I wonder for a second if he has passed out, my heart practically beating in my mouth, until he moves and tries to sit up.

"Stay there", I tell him, gently placing a blanket over him. I strip him down to his underwear under the covers.
I feel his forehead and he doesn't feel too hot, so I dress him in a pair of cotton pyjama bottoms that I find in the bottom of his suitcase.

"Y/n", he mumbles tiredly, "you don't need to do all this"
"Trust me", I tell him, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead, "I want to"

I fetch him a cold bottle of water from the mini fridge and sit by him, pressing it to his lips as he takes tiny sips.

I fetch him two paracetamol which he takes sitting up and then he lies back down, my hands gently guiding his weak head towards the pillow.

"Blake", I say, although he may already be asleep and probably can't hear me,
"I am so proud of you. You felt horrible and you still put on a show for all those people. I love you", I whisper.