Pink Floyd Imagines

𝟛𝟟. ℝ𝕠𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤

A/N:

Hi,

Yes, I'm alive. Sorry for the long wait, but I really didn't have any inspiration, this chapter is only because spotify gave me Vanilla Fudge and I felt so melancholy and then it turned out like this. I hope you like it.

Love

June

PS. Of course, I also need to thank you for 9k reads and over 200 votes. It's so unbelievable 💕

You were awakened by the soft creaking of your bed, jolting you out of your blissful state of sleepy unconsciousness. You didn't open your eyes, hoping that your fiancé was just turning from side to side, but when you heard soft, distant footsteps, your hope for another peaceful night somehow vanished.

"Rog... are you all right?" you murmured softly to your fiancé, only to hear his barely audible sigh.

"Yes, sleep (Y/N)." he whispered and walked over to give you a soft, almost non-existent kiss on your forehead before disappearing into the darkness of the room. You wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that nothing was going on, but you couldn't fool yourself any longer.

Roger had been waking up at night a lot lately, sitting alone, sometimes listening to music, sometimes just staring silently into space. You couldn't tell what was wrong with him - he didn't want to talk about it, he belittled all questions, he acted as if he was alone with all his feelings.

It hurt so much - to know that he was in pain alone. You really wanted to help him, but you didn't know how, when he wouldn't even say a word about what was depressing him. The only thing you could think of was the possibility that he was feeling this way because of thoughts about his father, even though it seemed unlikely to you. Whenever it was about Eric, he told you. You showed him that he could trust you with his grief for his father, and he learned to tell you when he missed him badly.

Then you thought you'd done something and asked him about it, but he said it had nothing to do with you and was no big deal.

You actually started to worry about your loved one. The fact that he didn't sleep much at night meant that during the day his usually brilliant sense of humour and sometimes annoying but endearing personality were turning into dull, tired, feeble smiles and worried expressions of thoughtfulness.

You knew you could no longer pretend not to notice his bad mood. Now fully awake, you turned on the small lamp on the bedside table and glanced at the clock, which read ten minutes to 5am. You sighed softly, took a sip from the glass of water on the bedside table and rose from the bed.
Your shoulders felt cold, so you wrapped yourself in a dressing gown that was hanging on a chair and left the room to find Roger.

It wasn't hard to find him. He was sitting on the balcony with his little black book on his lap, jotting something down quickly, though most of the time his eyes were wandering over the gardens of your house. Every now and then he would take a drag from the cigarette he held between the long fingers of his left hand.

You stood in the doorway to the balcony, leaning against the doorframe, and watched as he wrote down words hastily, chalked something, to then add the next lines of something that would become a song, or remain forgotten among the millions of little ideas.

"I told you to sleep, (Y/N)." stated Roger, snapping you out of your reverie without even turning towards you. His voice sounded rough, rather dispassionate, although you seemed to hear a note of worry in it.

"I can't when I know you're in pain." You said sincerely, wishing you could at least see the confirmation in his eyes, but he did not turn away. You didn't even delude yourself that he would - Roger Waters was the last person who would ask for help.

"That isn't anything important for you, I'm fine." you could sense the coldness in his voice, which was quite sad, even if you knew he really didn't mean it to sound so cruel. You walked over to him and sat down next to him, in the other chair, lowering your gaze with resignation.

"You don't believe it yourself. Something is going on, I know it." you said. "If you talk about it, you'll be better off." you convinced him, capturing his chin with your fingers, forcing him to make eye contact.

"It's all in your head, go back to bed, I wanted to finish the text." He replied evasively, turning his head back to his book, and the unruly strands of his fringe, a little too long, cast a shadow over his face, lit only by the first flashes of morning.

"It's not me you're fooling, Rog, it's yourself." You shook your head with resignation, standing up. "Think it over, please. I care about you very much and if something were to happen, I would blame myself."

You were already about to walk away, knowing he had no intention of getting out of his stubbornness, when you heard his low whisper.

"It's not your fault at all, it's all me." You stopped abruptly, not daring to move to interrupt it. "I... I wish I could tell you, but you won't understand. It's stupid." you could hear that he really had to muster up all his strong will to break through the pride holding him back from confessing the truth.

"I'm not going to judge you, Rog, I just want you to know that you're not alone with this." you said quietly, and those words seemed to hover in the air, and those few seconds seemed like an eternity as you waited for his response.

"I am happy, you give me happiness. But every time I am happy, life takes it away from me. I lost my father, I lost my best friend.... if I lost you still... I don't even want to think about it." Each successive word out of his mouth seemed to grow weaker and weaker, as if just speaking caused him pain.

"Love, I didn't know, I'm so sorry you had to feel that way." you said quietly, walking up to him, placing your hands on his shoulders and gazing into his grey-blue irises, which in that one ungraspable moment seemed to bare his entire soul. "Besides, I won't leave if you want me with you. And even if ever something were to separate us, you know the number. Call me if you'll need me, no matter what would happen. Just do it. And even if one day I won't pick up the phone, I'll always stay with you. Here, in your heart." You touched your hand to his chest and his hand came to rest on yours sealing your agreement.

You were silent, staring at each other - you didn't need to say anything to understand what the other wanted to say. The first clearer rays of the May morning sun fell on your faces, giving you hope that the morning would bring new joy, allowing you to forget your fears. After all, after the night there must always come a day.