Blinded by the Light: Drabbles

Drabble One: Barefoot

'Brian, I'm going outside!'

Roger hardly gave his boyfriend any time to react to his announcement; he was too excited about the warm weather during the scarce luxury of a whole afternoon off to stay inside to await Brian's answer. He felt like had squandered enough time by sleeping in late already, so he didn't want to waste any more precious minutes by something trivial like dressing up or waiting for his boyfriend's approval to go outside. He didn't care that he was standing barefooted in front of the backdoor in his pyjamas; he just wanted to go outside right now. He ran his fingertips along the door post until he eventually found the handle, but just as he pushed it down and opened the door, allowing the chilly morning air and the sound of birds tweeting to invade their kitchen, Brian responded, making Roger wish he had acted more quickly so he didn't have to hear his sermons and orders.

'Just for a little while, I don't want you to catch a cold!' Brian's voice echoed from the living room, where the guitarist was dusting off the book shelf during one of his strangely-timed fits of cleaning rage. 'And remember that you just got out of bed; you might still be a little drowsy, so please watch your step. And look out for the threshold, I don't want you to trip over it again.'

Roger was only just able to oppress the tendency to roll his eyes. He knew that his boyfriend's protectiveness was well-meant, but really, after having been blind for over nine months, Roger knew pretty much all of the treacherous thresholds, shelves and other vertical and horizontal protrusions of their house. He also didn't think of it as necessary that Brian told him he had to be even more careful now; he knew he had to be extra vigilant this early in the morning when he was still sleepy. Warning him for the possibility of catching a cold didn't seem worth mentioning either to Roger, considering the fact that it was the middle of August; it might still have been a little chilly at nine AM, but the sun was starting to rise both in height and in temperature release with every passing minute. It was too pleasantly warm to get cold in the first place, let alone catching and actual cold, especially given that Brian still insisted on Roger wearing long-sleeved pyjamas every night. The protectiveness literally dripped off everything Brian said and did, and Roger knew that the only way to soothe the concerns his partner had towards him, was to simply agree to all of his childish but well-meant orders and instructions.

'Yes, Bri, I'll look out,' Roger said, fighting hard to hide the chuckle that threatened to shine through in his voice. He luckily succeed in this pretty well, but just as he was about to step over the infamous threshold that lead outside, Brian unfortunately remembered something Roger wished he hadn't.

'In case you're not wearing any shoes yet, there must be a pair of clogs somewhere under the radiator. I don't want you to go outside barefooted,' Brian called out, and Roger sighed deeply.

Just because I can't see them, doesn't mean I'm going to blind other people with those monstrosities, Roger thought to himself. But, knowing that he was never going to get away with saying that he'd rather jump off a cliff than wear those pieces of pure disgrace, he decided not to say this out loud. Instead, he answered with an obedient 'I'll see if I can find them!' and finally stepped out of the confinement of the kitchen and into their sunlit backyard. Roger carefully tiptoed along the rough-surfaced tiles that formed a path towards the small strip of grass that made up about half of their modestly sized garden. He trailed his fingertips along the bricks of their house, and after having inwardly counted a set pattern of nine steps on the pavement, the drummer sat down on the edge of the mildly warm grey tiles.

With the warmth of the faint morning sunrays shining on his face and the feeling of grass tickling the soles of his feet, Roger finally allowed himself to relax on this workless, schoolless Sunday morning. The realisation that there was a beautiful day of peace and quiet ahead for both Brian and him, a luxury that did not often show up during their busy studio days, made Roger appreciate the moment – simply sitting in the garden with closed eyes and an untroubled mind – all the more. Just being outside, warming his pyjama-clad body with the early morning sun, until Brian would probably eventually call him inside for breakfast. Roger hoped that this was going to take him a while, though; he was enjoying himself way too much in their garden, listening to the chirping sound of crickets and rubbing his bare feet over the slightly moist grass that was the result the morning dew that announced the arrival of a beautifully warm day.