𝐴𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑| 𝑅𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑜𝑟 ✔

XXII

I was in Rogers bed after he offered me to sleep in his bed and he could take the couch. I was too tired to think so I just absentmindedly agreed. I was looking up at the ceiling, the image of the two replaying over and over like an irritating song you hate, yet somehow can't manage to get it out of your head.

I looked over at the clock, it was just over 2am, I had somehow managed to fall asleep but woke up again and my mind just refused to shut down, as there was a train of one hundred thoughts circling my brain.

Roger had comforted me all day, listened to me, watched Marilyn Monroe and Doris Day movies with me. I felt bad for him having to listen to all my problems, I'm sure he didn't need all tht dropped on him, since he had his own life and issues.

My thoughts were interrupted, as I heard the door opening, to reveal a tired-looking Roger, his hair disheveled and sticking up in all places, wearing only pajama bottoms. "You alright?" he asked, his voice raspy than usual, leaning on the edge of the doorway, with his arms crossed.

My throat was burning too much to answer him, so I just gave him a simple nod. He sighed and walked over to the edge of the bed. He didn't say anything, just sat in silence for a minute, before getting under the covers. We said nothing, nor did nothing. But there was thick tension that could be cut with a knife. I tried to think nothing of it, our eye contact was unbreakable, even in the pure darkness.

My breathing became heavier, for reasons unknown to me. I tried to close my eyes and try to sleep, when I felt his hand on my cheek, stroking his thumb, soothingly.

I woke up with my back pressed up against something hard, it took me a moment to register it was Roger, and when I looked down, I saw that his arm was around my stomach. I smacked his hand, causing him to remove it and turn over. I sat up straight, with furrowed, confused eyebrows. I wiped my face and went to get dressed.

When I came out of the bathroom, Roger was in the kitchen, making coffee and toast. "Morning" he smiled in direction. "Morning" I replied, rubbing my eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, concern lacing in his morning voice. "Fine" I responded, sitting down on the stool, looking down.

"You coming to the gig tonight?" he asked, plead in his baby blue eyes

"Of course" I faintly smiled, and he returned it. There was a minute of silence, which gave me a chance to just admire his smile. I didn't even realize I'd been staring at his lips until, he cleared his throat. My cheeks flushed in slight embarrassment.

⚜︎

I was standing in the crowd with Ashley, who had a nervous sweat on her forehead, Vicky who was sipping on a vodka and something, and Fate who looked overly excited to finally see a band play live, even if it was just a small gig – or rather in tonight's case, a rather large gig.

This was probably one of their biggest gigs so far, I could barely move, I was basically jammed in between people and more people. Queen came out, and started playing 'keep yourself alive' followed by many others, they written.

Roger and I made eye contact a few times as usual, but something felt different about the way he was looking at me. At one point, he even missed a beat on the drum, earning a few annoyed glares from his bandmates.

His blue eyes were piercing right into my soul, as if he were undressing me with his eyes. I felt flustered under his gaze, and finally he looked back up into my eyes and gave me a small smile.