𝐴𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑| 𝑅𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 ✔

XI

I debated for a while on what I should do. If I should leave Roger here for a moment to tell the others I was gonna take him home. Or if I should just take him home without telling them. I thought if I left him even just for a moment he'd get into some sort of trouble.

I saw Vicky making her way through the crowd as she spotted us. She walked over to us and looked at Roger with slight concern. "How is he already so drunk? He was gone for like five minutes" she asked, looking confused. I shrugged, just as clueless as she was. "I'm gonna take him home." I stated. She raised her eyebrow in suspicion and I explained that it was because he was too drunk to do anything and asked her if she could tell everyone else where I'd gone. I still felt really guilty about leaving James.

When Vicky agreed and went back I saw Roger reaching in his pocket for a cigarette. I helped him stand up and walked him into the taxi. I asked him where he lived then told the taxi driver the address.

I walked Roger up the stairs of his flat after paying the taxi driver. I sat him on the couch as I observed the place. It was tidy, but it reeked of smoke, alcohol and something unfamiliar.

I took off his shoes and socks and placed a blanket over him. I wasn't really sure what to do since he was already falling asleep so I decided I was going to leave until I heard his voice. "Stay" he mumbled, just loud enough for me to make out what he was saying.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, before I locked the door to his apartment, sat on the sofa-chair and watched as he fell asleep like a child. I felt a little awkward, but I decided to just try and fall asleep.

⚜︎

I woke up the next morning with a blanket wrapped around me, I blinked a few times, my eyes adjusting to the harsh morning sun light peeking through the Windows. The smell of coffee hit my nose, I looked over to the empty couch, then sat up straighter, to look behind me.

I saw Roger, his shirtless back facing me, as he poured coffee into two cups. I felt jitters in my stomach as I watched his movements, and I exhaled a shaky breath, watching his back reflex.

I realised I had been staring a little too long. Because then he turned around, holding two cups of coffee, and I looked up to his face, seeing him smirking.

I turned back around, embarrassment washing over my features as I imagined 50 different scenarios of my death.

I heard him clear his throat, and looked up to find him offering me the cup, I accepted it and smiled, still feeling a little embarrassed. I practically hid my face in the coffee cup as I took long sips.

It was a few moments of silence before he cleared his throat and spoke up. "Why did you uh- why did you stay?" he asked, the awkwardness clear in his tone.

"You asked me to.." I simply explained. "I'm sorry I got that drunk." he apologized. "It's fine" I smiled, forgivingly. Another moment of dead silence past, before I finished my coffee and stood up. "I'll get going now" I said, walking over. "Wait" his voice stopped me in my tracks, compelling me to turn around and face him. "What happened last night? While I was drunk...?" he asked.

I pondered what he meant for a moment, realising what he meant. "Nothing. You left backstage. Got shit faced. I brought you here, you asked me to stay. So I did then fell asleep." I explained, but a question popped into my mind and before I could get the chance to brush it off, I found myself asking him. "Why did you get that drunk? When you left the room you seemed upset." I asked him.

He looked at the ground, looking as if he was debating on telling me or not. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine, opening his mouth then closing it, giving me a smile. "No reason. Just didn't feel like staying sober." he lied through his teeth. I could tell he was lying, but restrained from asking any more questions.

I smiled, said goodbye and thanked him for the coffee, and with that I left.