𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XX

The first thing I noticed as my senses came alive that morning was the pain.

    It definitely wasn't the worst migraine I'd endured, but it was strong enough to have me clench my teeth as it hit. I let out a small breath, shading my eyes from the threatening white sun streaming into the room. As much as I wanted to fall back asleep and stay in the comfort of the bed, I needed painkillers badly, so I started to move.

    I soon realized I couldn't.

    Something was holding me back. A heavy, warm, very much alive something.

    Startled, I lurched to a sitting position, my eyes widening in recognition as I set my eyes on the scene. It was an arm- two arms, actually- that had been looped around my middle, clutching me from behind. We were both completely naked. As I glanced around the room in distress, I noticed our discarded clothing scattered about. A shirt here, an undergarment there. I was only confused for a slight second before it came rushing back. I was hoping I'd only remember bits of it, for my own sake, but this time all we'd done together stuck vividly in my memory.

    Every bit of it.

    I let out a guttural groan, pressing a palm to my aching forehead. Holy shit.

I peeled the tangled covers apart from my body and wiggled out of Roger's surprisingly tight grasp. I immediately made a beeline for the bathroom, a shower seeming like heaven to me. The water felt incredible on my skin, and made me feel a lot better already. Yet, I couldn't help but notice the marks on my body. Angry purple marks peppered my neck and collarbone, and a smaller one was planted on my inner thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly as the memories replayed in my brain. Every feeling, every sound, every touch was planted at the very top of my brain, so I hardly had to dig for it to remember.

    I didn't know how to feel about it. The emotions were so sudden and plentiful that I couldn't process them correctly. I simply shoved them to the side for later. So much was said that night, so much was done. It was a lot to handle all at once, so merely putting it aside was my way of coping.

    With a towel wrapped tightly around my bruised body, I crept out of the bathroom and ducked into the bedroom where my clothes waited. Luckily, Rog was still asleep, burrowed under a mountain of blankets and pillow. Not feeling like dressing up, I pulled on some old sweatpants and a t-shirt I only wore around the flat. I still felt like utter shit, not just physically. I was exhausted.

    I didn't have much time to myself before the blonde beast came slumping into the kitchen. I'd taken a few painkillers and downed two glasses of water when his shadow washed over me. But I didn't have anything to say, not this time. I kept my eyes forward- I was afraid looking him in the eye would trigger something in me I wanted to avoid. That, and leftover shame and doubt were heating up my cheeks. Why had I kissed him? Was it the right time? Did he regret it? Did I regret it?

    I gripped the countertop as he shuffled closer, studying my expression with a furrowed brow. "You alright?" he asked, bringing up a hand to smooth down my still damp hair. I couldn't help it- I recoiled at his touch, just a bit. He noticed, drawing a step backwards.

    "Ah. Okay. That's how it's gonna be, then." Roger crossed the room to grab a jacket and shoes, hardly glancing in my direction as he spoke next. "I'm going for a smoke."

    Once the door to the flat was firmly shut, I let my pounding head fall into my hands. Fuck. I had to go after him. This was a mess that needed to be sorted immediately- I couldn't run from it. I wouldn't let myself. What we'd had- our friendship- had been so good. So easy. If that fell apart, I'd never forgive myself.