âmes pétillantes ~ classic rock imagines

• Charlie Watts •

Hello! Long time, no see, but I've had an extremely busy month. I saw Queen + Adam Lambert and The Rolling Stones (hence this for Charlie, R.I.P.) in two weeks of each other, and I've also been to watch the Elvis movie several times and George Michael's documentary, so I've been an incredibly busy music bee! Hopefully I'll get back on track now my schedule's settling down - here's a little something in the mean time.

--☆--

When you awoke, it was to the cheery sound of bird song, and an undercuurent of running water. For several minutes, you lay there in silence, letting the weak sunlight create patterns in the darkness through your closed eyelids, waiting for your senses to reconnect.

When they did, you realised the sound of water was the shower from the ensuite bathroom. With a slow groping of your hand across the expanse of the bed, you also realised that you were alone. The solution was easily put together, and you pried your eyes open and rolled over, trying to save your semi-formed consciousness from perishing in the early morning sun, or perhaps hoping to catch a glimpse through the bathroom door.

Unfortunately, Charlie had had the good foresense to shut it.

Nevertheless, you remained facing his side of the impossibly warm bed, slowly reaching out your fingers to nimbly stroke the crinkles in the sheets where he had spent the night beside you. They were still warm, you noted, and smelt the same way you were sure you did. An intoxicating combination of him and you, mingled with a tinge of sweat and the remnants of the previous nights activities still lingering in the air, on your skin and on the bed sheets.

In contented bliss, you lay there a little longer, perfectly comfortable in the large bed of the large penthouse suite. It was so comfortable. And the scent that coated the room, strong enough to send chills down your spine, was like the comforting smells you could glimpse from your childhood. This was more than content - this was safe. The knowledge that nothing would harm you when you were ensconced in this suite, that your lover was only a reach away at every moment. Bathed in the feeling, you found yourself nodding off again easily.

Slipping in and out of consciousness, you couldn't tell just what was a dream and what was a reality. There were hazy images of his face, glimmering nights of red carpets and disco balls, empty beaches stretched out beneath the moonlight, fingertips drifting lazily against your skin, and... music. Haunting music. Incredible music. Music that almost seemed not of this world.

It was played on a piano, and stacked deftly with a mix of stoccato, glissandos and an ever growing crescendo that made your heart thump almost painfully against your ribcage. Even as the girlfriend of a musician and a composer in your own right, you'd never heard music like it before. The strains of notes wormed their way into your mind, engraving themselves on your brain, preying on the temporal lobe until it was the only music that you knew and ever could know.

Your eyes shot open once more, and this time your body showed no resistance as you pushed yourself out of bed. As an afterthought, when the chill tenderly began to stroke your uncovered skin, you reached onto the floor to pick up the dress shirt Charlie had discarded the previous night, tossing it around your body and haphazardly doing up the buttons as you walked.

Mindlessly, you grasped a piece of hotel note paper and a glittering gold pen on your way out from the large mahogany desk that had remained unused, despite Charlie's claims of needing to work on the band's latest composition. With them clutched safely in your hand, you slid out of the bedroom and into the lounge room, where a grand piano stood proudly in the corner by the floor length windows. The seat was slightly pulled out, as though it was your destiny to be sitting on it in that moment.