BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

26 - david gilmour

Requested by LittleSavageSuri . Thank you for the support, dear! Of course I had to do something cliché and cheesy.
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The Parisian streets were bustling that night with David at your side. He held your hand to keep you close and guided you away from the prying eyes of any passersby. Though you were new to France and its culture and language, David proved to be an excellent teacher. He didn't have any qualms about gently correcting your pronunciation or helping you order at restaurants, and you were slowly learning under his patient tutelage.

This little holiday had turned into a break from constant stresses at the studio and the pressure of being newly famous. As Pink Floyd got bigger and bigger, they were beginning to be recognized in the most trivial of places. At the grocery store. The theater. The pub. It was near impossible to go anywhere without being recognized by someone.

You weren't ever threatened by the attention that David got, although it did worry you. It was such a fast transition from being no one to being someone, and surely that would wreak havoc on David's nerves. He had even stopped taking you to places around your flat just because he would be spotted. All of your favorite shops and bars had to be yours alone, no longer to be shared with David. It was painful.

But David had gotten fed up with it even before you did. He came home one night from the studio, a mere exhausted lump on the sofa with you tucked under his arm, and proclaimed that you both would take a vacation somewhere away from England, where he wouldn't be noticed. You thought David was just dreaming, envisioning this perfect life with you. It didn't truly strike you as reality until David woke you up one morning, a wide grin across his face and your luggage already packed.

One plane trip later, and you were wandering about France like a couple of vagabonds. Not one person had pulled David away for an autograph or a picture. They all treated you like a couple of tourists – which is to say that they were standoffish at best. You didn't mind one bit, as you had David all to yourself.

Having stayed in France before, David knew all the local haunts by heart and took you to the places off the beaten path. There was an old cheese shop at the end of a long desolate street full of wonderous flavors to try and a gorgeous pond tucked away in a small grove of trees with a pleasant family of ducks swimming in circles atop its crystalline surface.

You had kissed several times beneath streetlamps, counting each like wishes and praying for more. David had laughed, really laughed like you hadn't heard in years. He spoke to you in English, but he complimented you in French. You made it a mission of yours to advance your knowledge of French enough to understand what he was saying about you.

It was perfect. He was perfect. And all at once, it hit you.

You didn't want to go back.

David noticed your sudden silence and gently led you away from the throng of people, allowing the canopy of an empty shop act as a shroud of privacy. "Y/N?" He asked, peering at you with concerned eyes.

You forced a smile that crumbled almost immediately at the face of his accepting nature and those hands that only existed to wipe your tears away. That's exactly what David did when you began to cry despite yourself, sniffling as he thumbed away each one with the kindness and the patience of a saint.

"God, I'm sorry," you said, chuckling wetly. "We're supposed to be having a good time."

"We are. And I won't if you're upset. What's wrong, dear?" David ran a hand through your hair, pushing it out of your face and making it a point to stand in front of you, in order to block you from any nosy pedestrians.