BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

23 - robert plant ³

Another request from the sweet NocturnalMundane ! I hope this turned out alright for you!
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Blustery wind carrying thick snowflakes blew through London. Heavy snow coated the sidewalks and danced across the air, finding a home atop a parked car or on the tongue of an excited child.

It was a white winter this year, full of unusual blizzards and storms that would shut schools down and block the roads until the proper equipment was dragged out to plow it away.

Today was no different from the rest, leaving you and Robert stuck in your flat together. It wasn't a terrible prospect, but you two were just exiting the honeymoon phase of your relationship and beginning to notice those little tics that didn't initially mean much before.

You were just starting to realize that Robert talked in his sleep when he was particularly exhausted and, to your annoyance, even had the tendency to sleepwalk around the house. Most nights you'd find yourself awake at some ungodly hour chasing down Robert before he busted out a window or hurt himself.

Waking up so often was really eating at you by the third or fourth night that you had been stuck together. Part of you just wanted to let Robert wander around until he got it out of his system, but you knew that you wouldn't forgive yourself if something were to happen to him.

So when you heard Robert mumbling beside you and fell forwards as his weight slipped out of bed, you were quick to follow. The wood floors were icy on your bare feet, making you wish you could have just stayed in bed as you rushed to keep pace with Robert. You weren't used to such a long stride.

Often when you and Robert walked together, he would make it a point to slow down so that you could keep pace. If you were being honest, you hadn't even realized that Robert could go that fast until now!

Groaning to yourself, you kept close as Robert sped down the hallway, making a sharp right into the kitchen. You gulped, worried that he could potentially injure himself on any number of a thousand cooking utensils. Fortunately, Robert walked right past the silverware drawer and the knives.

You paused, watching. The kitchen only went on for so long before Robert would hit a wall, and you were curious as to what he might do next, seeing that he was cornered.

Robert was palming the wall, mapping out the area with his eyes closed and shrouded by long golden locks of hair. He was dressed in his pajamas, baggy sweats that were too short on him and a comfy fleece shirt. You couldn't stand to be mad at Robert, not when he didn't even realize that he was doing what he was doing. He looked years younger – a boy in a grown man's body.

"White party," Robert murmured to himself. "Have to go."

You barely caught the words, not understanding them as anything coherent. But there was the sound of metal rattling and Robert fiddling with the deadbolt on the back door. His fingers were clumsy in his current state, so they only managed to unlock the top portion of the door. Robert tugged at the doorknob, as if the door would pull right open without so much as a turn or twist.

"Party," Robert insisted.

He yanked at the knob harder and you heard an ominous creak. To spare the door of any further misery, you stepped in to gently move Robert away. You were so careful not to wake him, having read somewhere that it was a bad idea to wake a sleepwalker.