stars || Joe Sugg

3.) okay?

"Before I forget, your mom called the house again." She says as I step onto the top floor of the apartment. I bite my lip to keep my emotions from flooding out.

"Did you tell her where I am?" I ask, simply. I catch Joe's eye from his place in the kitchen. He stands behind Caspar, who is cooking something in a pan.

"I just told her that you moved to the UK. I didn't elaborate anymore than that." Regina says. I know she can hear the uncomfortableness in my voice, but I don't want to stop talking to her about my mom. I haven't seen my mom in so long. At least three years. It's my choice, though. I don't want to see my mom.

"Regina, I need to go." I say shortly.

"O-okay. I love you, Ruby. Have fun in London."

"I love you, too, Reg. I'll be home before soon." I tell her back. I hang up the phone and throw it on to one of the kitchen counter.

"Was that Regina?" Caspar asks, sliding a halfway burnt pancake on to a plate.

"Yeah." I respond, taking the cup that Joe is offering me. It makes me smile that it's from Zoe's line of products. I had seen both of Zoe's perfumes in Joe's bathroom. It's so cute that he has his sister's products around his apartment.

I take a drink of it and find that it is black coffee. "I was going to offer you something to put in it, but you just jumped right in there." Joe laughs at my disgusted face.

"I thought British people drank tea." I say taking the small carton of cream from him. "You're British, right?"

"I drink coffee, too. Coffee is a morning thing. Tea is something you have when it's cold and raining and gross outside." The brunette says, taking a plate that Caspar hands to him. He sits it in front of me. "Also, tomorrow you'll probably have to fend for yourself. Caspar is just trying to impress today."

"Yeah. I don't like cooking." Caspar admits, taking the last plate for himself. Joe ends up with the plate with all the mostly burned pancakes.

I jump up on to the bar stool as Caspar carries his plates to the sofa. I've never eaten anywhere except for a table or something similar. I know no one really does it anymore, but it's kind of hard to break the habit after twenty-two years of doing something.

"Regina told Caspar that pancakes are your favorite breakfast food." Joe says, scraping off the burnt pieces of the pancake into the trash can.

"Pancakes are my favorite food. Period." I answer, taking a very large, very unattractive bite of pancake. Joe continues to stand on the opposite side of the bar with his plate on the counter. I watch him in the top of my peripheral vision. His grey t-shirt is loose and hangs low off of his neck. Instead of putting on actual pants, he has on navy blue sweatpants.

"I wanted to talk to you." He says when I reach to take a drink of the coffee.

"About what?" I ask, fingering the hem of my t-shirt. I remember having this conversation so many times in my life. I know what's next.

"About last night." Joe lets his voice trail off. I pay attention to how low he speaks, like he doesn't want Caspar to hear the conversation. I'm silently grateful for it as he looks up at me with his sapphire blue eyes.

"Hmm. What happened last night?" I say, taking another bite of pancakes. I cut around the small spot on the top one that's been burnt, but I end up with a partially burnt spot on the bottom one.

I have copied this routine many times. To me, I feel like if I can deny it, it didn't happen. I can convince myself that it didn't actually happen for awhile, until reality starts kicking in, and the vivid nightmares crawl back into my vision.

"You don't remember?" He asks; his expression turns puzzled as he picks up the mug on the counter.

"Are you talking about when you came into my room last night?" I remember telling Regina this exact same line. I remember how she pestered me until I finally told her about the nightmares that plagued my mind.

That's when something hit me. What if Regina had already told Caspar and Joe about my condition? What if Joe already knows that this isn't a one night thing? But, would Caspar honestly agree to let me live here if he knew in the first place?

"Yeah. I mean, you were screaming so loud last night from a nightmare, I guess. I came in to make sure you were okay." I watch him as he speaks. He pokes at the pancakes before throwing away the bottom one which is completely burnt. "Like, do you have night terrors?"

I almost roll my eyes. If I had a dollar for every time anyone has ever asked me that, I wouldn't have to live with Joe and Caspar because I would definitely be able to afford my own place.

"Nope. No night terrors." I say, fake smiling. I hope that he'll get the hint that I don't want to talk about it. I only trust one person with this knowledge, and it's definitely not a twenty-five year old YouTuber who I've known for less than a day. Regina is the only person outside my family I'm comfortable talking to about the nightmares. I don't trust anyone else.

"Can you - can you tell me about them?" He stutters. I glance up at him carefully. He is already looking at me with wide, sad eyes. There's something similar to sympathy in them, but it's nothing I've asked for. Sympathy is not something I appreciate. I've never appreciated it because I don't feel like I need it. There's technically nothing wrong with me.

"That's something I prefer to keep to myself." I say, trying not to sound too rude. I'm frustrated now. It was inevitable; I was bound to get tired of the conversation eventually. "I'm just going to head out." I jump down from the bar stool. I take my phone and walk towards the door. I can feel Joe watching me as I shove my feet into the old sneakers by the welcome mat.

"Where are you going, Ruby?" Caspar calls from the couch.

"I'm going to go look for a job." I say, quickly. Once both shoes are tied tightly, I open the door before realizing that I don't have a key to the apartment. I turn to ask one of the boys, but Joe holds his up before I can ask. He tosses them to me, and I snatch them from the air. "Thanks." I mutter.

"Watch yourself out there." Joe says, turning around to toss the uneaten breakfast in the trash. I nod once and push through the door.