vlog squad imagines

You can hear him stumbling around the room, fumbling to get his shirt and jeans off before plopping down on his stomach on the bed next to you. “Fuck. That hurt,” He whispers.

"Heath, baby--one foot off the bed. one foot off the bed." You say, before reaching over to turn on the small bedside lamp that was on the table next to your side of the bed.

"Shit, baby no. Turn the light off," Heath whined. "Take care of me without it,"

Carefully sitting up, you moved to push one of Heath's legs off of the bed. He mumbled something about loving you and you said it back quietly, gently kissing the top of his head, because you were too focused on making sure he didn't end up fucking puking all over the floor.

"You want a water?" You whisper.

"Noooo. Just come cuddle with meeee," He says, extending his arms forward for you to move closer and cuddle with him.

"You gotta sleep it off, Heath. Let's cuddle tomorrow, okay?" You say.

He whines, not content with your answer and you lay back down on the bed next to him. You reach over and rub a hand over his back, and suddenly, he jolts over and leans over the bed.

"Heath, no!" You say, trying to reach him before he ended up getting sick on the hard wood of his bedroom floor, but you were too late. He retched and got sick, throwing up what you had assumed most of what he put into his body earlier that night. As he finally managed to calm down a few seconds later, you deeply frowned.

"Heath, you gotta...fuck." You said, making your way to the door of the bedroom. "Can you get up and brush your teeth baby? Or, do you need my help?"

"I can...do anything, baby," Heath says, hiccup leaving his mouth, seemingly forgetting conveniently that you asked him if he needed your help.

"Okay. Impress me and go brush your teeth,"

Leaving the room, you were silently thanking your lucky stars suddenly that heath's bedroom floor in that apartment was hardwood. Grabbing the couple of things that you needed, you walked back down the hall and made your way back into the bedroom. Once you got there, your eyes fell on Heath. You were gone for not even two minutes, and your boyfriend was back on the bed and passed out. Miraculously, with one foot off the bed like you had mentioned to him previously.

Sighing, you put down the water bottle and two aspirins on heath's bedside table, then the bowl on the floor below him. It took you a few minutes, but after you cleaned up the mess that Heath made, you managed to get everything back in order and cleaned up before you finally climbed back into bed beside your sleeping boyfriend.

The next morning, you were slowly woken up by the sunlight peaking in from the window on the other side of Heath's bedroom. That was when you realized that Heath was no longer in the bed with you, and you frowned once more, the same way that you had done just a few hours earlier when he had finally gotten home and into bed with you. Carefully getting up, you noticed that the bottle of water was open and the two aspirin were gone, so at least he had taken your advice. Sliding on a pair of shorts underneath the long t-shirt of Heath's that you were wearing, you walked out of his bedroom and into the living room, towards the sliding glass door out onto the patio. there, you found him in the usual spot where he would sit to smoke his cigarettes.

Sliding the glass door open, he flicks ash off his cigarette and then turns back to look at you.

"What's up, babe?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"You tell me,"

"I have nothing to tell other than this cigarette making me want to fucking throw up,"

"Why are you smoking it then?"

"It helps me wake up,"

You roll your eyes at his idiotic answer, but you can't help but to let a small smile etch over your lips too and it caused him to laugh.

"You don't remember anything from last night, do you?"

"Baby, I have no idea how i even got home last night. You think i remember?"

"You threw up all over the floor in the room when you got here."

He goes silent, and then takes a hit off of his cigarette. he's even looking away from you, and you can suddenly see right by the look on his face, by his completely now fallen expression, that he feels bad. Terrible, really--if you had to put your damn finger on it.

"Did I?" He asks, puffing out the smoke from the hit of the cigarette. "There was nothing there when I got up to smoke."

"That's because I cleaned it up."

It takes him a few minutes to respond, and when he puts his cigarette out, you look at him.

"Y/N, I'm sorry." He says. "I...I didn't mean to, I didn't realize how fast it all hit me."

You shook your head. "It's fine, I took care of it. At least you took the aspirin."

"I'm hungover as fuck. I don't know how well they're gonna work, but it's worth a shot."

You nod, and then your eyes follow Heath as he moves closer to you, where you stood up against the wall of the apartment near the sliding glass door. He wraps his arms around you, leaning forward so his lips gently graze yours.

"I'm sorry," He whispers again, his hands rubbing at your hips.

"I know," you whisper back. "It's okay,"

"It's not. I'm sorry," His tone is so soft and completely apologetic that it melts you, and you lift your hands to place them on both sides of his face.

"It happens to the best of us, Heath."

"I didn't have to come home and fuckin' vomit all over the floor like someone who can’t make it not even a foot into the bathroom."

You closed my eyes tight, letting out a chuckle. "Can we please stop using the word vomit?"

He laughs and you open your eyes back up to look at him.

"Wanna get take out from Du’par's?"

He makes a face, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head.

"Why not? Killer hang over you've got goin' on there, huh?" You ask, gently poking at his face as he grins and pulls away from the hold that he had on you.