𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝗼𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐢𝗺𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝕞𝕒𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ♫ 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕚𝕖𝕝 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕪

I sat on the stairs right by the front door, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Daniel went out with some friends around 4 O'clock and he told me he'd be back in time for dinner, but it's almost midnight and he's still not home.
I've called and texted him, but he won't answer or pick up.
I sighed and rested my head in my hands, praying to God that he was safe.
Suddenly, the door burst open, Daniel stumbling in.
"Daniel!" I shrieked,  shooting up from the staircase.
He turned his head and once he saw me, a drunken smile formed on his face.
Once I realized that he was heavily intoxicated, I backed away from him.
"Seriously, Daniel?" I asked, annoyed.
"What? I just had a few drinks with some friends No big deal," he slurred.
"You told me you'd be home for dinner. Daniel, do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! The least you could have done was shoot me one simple text telling me that you were okay!" I exasperated, unable to control my emotions.
"Damn, you're making such a big deal out of nothing. Just chill," he laughed.
I sighed, ignoring his comment.
He was clearly way too intoxicated to comprehend anything I was saying.
"C'mon let's just get you to bed," I said, guiding him upstairs.
"But I'm not tired! We should just have a big house party instead!" he cheered.
"Shh, Daniel, it's midnight, we can't throw a party right now," I informed.
I took him to our room, letting him fall onto our bed while I searched for his favorite pair of sweatpants.
I rooted through the drawers, pulling out his sweatpants.
"I don't feel good," he groaned from behind me, catching my attention.
"Do you feel like you're going to throw up?" I asked.
"No, no I'm good. I don't get sick from nothing!" he yelled, proudly.
"Are you sure?" I asked, unsure.
I could clearly tell that he was about to throw up, so I walked over to him, pulling him off the bed.
"Where are you taking me?" he groaned, wobbling around.
"The bathroom," I said.
"I told you, I'm fine. I'm not gonna throw u-"
He was cut off by the alcohol from earlier coming up. Luckily I had pushed him towards the toilet just in time.
I sighed again, I knew it was going to be a long night.
I quickly went to the kitchen and grabbed him a bottle of water, knowing he would need it for the long night he had ahead of him.
I closed the refrigerator door, rubbing my eyes, trying to stay awake. He makes me so mad sometimes. I mean, I love him so much and care about him so much, but it seems like he doesn't really love me or care about me. I just wish that for once, he would recognize and appreciate all the little things I do for him. Like cooking us both dinner every single night and staying up all hours of the night, worrying about him.
I was so mad that I decided he could just fend for himself tonight. I would give him his stupid water bottle and stupid sweatpants and he could sleep alone on the couch.
I walked back into the bathroom to see him seated on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall.
I was about to toss him the water bottle and walk out, but I stopped dead in my tracks.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he looked helpless. I instantly forgot my decision to let him fend for himself and ran to his side pulling him into my arms.
That's the effect he has on me. I can never stay mad at him because I care about him too much.
"What's wrong?" I asked, setting the water bottle down.
"I don't feel good and I didn't know where you were and I don't f-feel good," he cried, burying his face in my neck.
I frowned, kissing his forehead and rubbing his back.
"I just went to get you water. And it's your own fault that you don't feel good you're the one who decided to go get drunk," I said, helping him off the ground.
"I know. I'm sorry," he choked out, looking down.
"It's okay," I said softly, kissing his cheek.
"C'mon, why don't you change into your sweatpants so you're more comfortable," I suggested, leading him back to our room.
I let him change into his sweatpants while I pulled my hair up into a messy bun.
Once he was dressed, I took his dirty clothes and threw them into the hamper.
He looked at me, seeing okay one second and then totally sick the next second.
"I feel sick again," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
"Go to the bathroom incase you throw up again," I instructed.
He nodded and sauntered into the bathroom. A few seconds later, gagging could be heard from the bathroom.
I frowned and walked in, rubbing his back.
The rest of the night followed pretty much the same pattern.
He would throw up and then go back to bed for a little, then throw up again.
At about three O'clock in the morning, he finally fell asleep and stayed asleep.
I was barely awake, so I collapsed next to him on our bed. I closed my eyes and the last thing I remember before falling asleep was him cuddling into my side.

I woke up the next morning to a groan. I rolled over and saw Daniel rubbing his eyes and groaning in pain.
"Morning sunshine," I whispered, not wanting to hurt his head anymore than it already was.
"What happened last night?" he asked, burying his face in the covers.
"Well you went out around 4 O'clock and told me you'd be home for dinner, but you ended up staying out till midnight without any warning. Then you came home completely drunk and we were pretty much up all night because you were throwing up all the stupid beer you drank," I explained, grumpy from being exahusted.
"Wait, I was out till midnight?" he asked, looking confused.
I nodded.
"Babe...I'm so so so sorry. Please tell me you didn't make us dinner?" he asked.
"No, I made us your favorite dinner last night. I thought you were coming home, Daniel where the hell were you? I was so worried about you, I thought something happened because you wouldn't answer my calls or texts," I said.
"I'm so sorry, I don't know why I put you through that. How late did I keep you up? You look exhausted," he asked.
"Three in the morning," I replied.
He moved out from under the covers, wincing from the pain the sunlight was causing him. He opened his arms and I cuddled into him, letting him wrap his arms protectively around me.
"I'm so so so sorry. I promise you that I will never do that again. I'm so sorry. And I'm sorry if you feel unloved or underappreciated," he said.
"What makes you think I feel unloved or underappreciated?" I questioned, running my fingers through his hair.
"I just have this feeling. I mean, I feel terrible about dinner. You always have some type of meal cooked for us when I get home wherever the hell I am and sometimes I just blow you off and go straight to bed and...I shouldn't do that," he said.
"Well, I understand. I get that you're tired and you just wanna sleep." I replied.
"Yea, but I still shouldn't do that to you. I just feel bad. Listen, I love you so much, so I hope you never feel unloved. And if you do, tell me. And all those little things you do for me, like making sure I get out of bed on time and folding all my clothes that I just ball up and shove in my suitcase for tour and making me coffee with just the right amount of sugar in the morning and giving me back and shoulder massages while I'm stressed about a song, they never go unnoticed. So, thank you, for all those little things. I'm sorry if you feel underappreciated," he said.
Tears welled up in my eyes. Not sad tears, happy tears.
"Hey what's wrong?" he asked, noticing the tears in my eyes.
"You really do recognize all of that stuff," I whispered.
"Of course I do, I just don't thank you for it enough," he admitted.
"I love you so much, Daniel," I whispered, kissing him softly.
When we separated, our foreheads pressed together.
"I love you so much more. Thank you for always taking care of my dumbass," he laughed, then winced in pain from his headache.
"Of course. I'm gonna go get you some Advil for your head, though," I informed.
"Yea, that's a good idea," he chuckled, laying back down and throwing the covers back over his face.
That right there is the number one reason that I can never stay mad at him.

♫

Mad At You - Why Don't We

"𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜"