36 Questions: A Joanne Fanfiction

Question Twenty-Four:

How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

Joe sighed, running his hands through his straggly hair, which was damp with sweat. He looked at himself in the mirror, his face was an unattractive shade of green, and the bags under his eyes were more similar to suitcases. Wearily, he turned on his phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen in front of him. He could blearily make out the time: 8am. It could have been four in the morning for all he knew, the lack of sleep he had had only adding more to his headache. He let himself sit back on the floor, crouched in front of the toilet seat as another bout of nausea overtook him.

It was now approaching nine, and Joe knew that he had no chance of making it to rehearsal on time. Hoping that Dianne hadn't left her house yet, he quickly dialled her number, putting his phone on speaker rather than save the effort of holding it up to his ear. Dianne answered on the third ring.

"Morning Joe, what's up?" she asked, her voice bright and excited for the day to come.

"Morning," he said weakly. "Umm is it alright if we push training back an hour?" he managed to croak out, before another wave of sickness caused him to groan.

"Joe are you alright?" she asked, her voice now laced with worry for her partner.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He replied quickly, hoping this would be convincing.

"No you're not." She said firmly. "I'm coming over." With that, she hung up the phone, leaving Joe alone in his bathroom, desperately trying to prove to himself that he was alright.

Within twenty minutes, Dianne arrived. Cautiously, she knocked on the door, only for Byron to open it.

"Hiya. Is Joe alright?" she asked.

"Not really. He's been up all night throwing up." He said, stepping aside to let her enter the apartment.

Her face fell, and sympathy washed over her. "Bless him."

"I know. I sat with him for a while last night, I was going to call but he was determined that he'd be better for training today." He said, by means of an explanation. "Look, I have a quite important meeting today, I was going to reschedule so I could keep an eye on him, but now that you're here do you mind staying for a while?" he asked.

"Yeah of course." She said. "Where is he?"

"I think he's still in his bathroom," he replied, before leaving her to get ready.

Quickly, she dumped her stuff at the door, before padding gently up to Joe, treading lightly in case he had a headache. She knocked on his bathroom door gently, not wanting to disrupt his privacy.

"Come in," Joe said hoarsely from the other side of the door.

She slowly opened the door to see Joe shirtless with only a pair of jogging shorts to cover him, a sheen of sweat sticking to his skin, bent over the toilet bowl. His face was ashen, and his eyes were nowhere near the bright blue she was used to seeing. She smiled at him sympathetically, and he attempted to smile in response, but groaned softly, and began to throw up the entirety of his stomach. She dropped to his side immediately, rubbing soft circles into his back and whispering to him comfortingly, until finally he'd finished. He flopped backwards, leaning against the bathroom wall.

"Hi." He said weakly. "Give me an hour, and I'll be alright to rehearse, don't worry." He tried to convince his partner.

"No way." She said firmly. "Do you feel like you're going to throw up anymore?" she asked.

"No, I think it's all out." He replied weakly.

"Sure?"

"Yeah."