Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 15

Author's Note: Hey everyone! So I usually only update once a week on Wednesday, but today's my birthday and I have the day off, so I thought I'd give you two updates this week :) Hope you like it, and thanks for reading!

Days went by with no sign of John, and I started to wonder if he was ever going to come back. The empty bed beside mine that I woke up to every morning and fell asleep to every night, the open seat at the small dining table for four that I stared at every time I sat down to eat, and the lack of bass during our band practices that we tried our best to work past were all just sad, painful reminders of how I'd pushed him away.

Brian, having that sixth sense I didn't know whether to appreciate or despise, noticed and tried to convince me it wasn't my fault; that it wasn't anything I did. I knew what I'd done, though. I was there; Brian wasn't. I watched him walk out; Brian didn't.

I quickly found it unbearable to even just be in our bedroom, the bed whose sheets were still pulled tight and tucked underneath the edges of the mattress taunting me like a high school bully. To get away, I started to spend my nights on the roof, alone. Luckily the air was warm, and whoever had lived here before the four of us had left behind a single lawn chair. With the lighter and the pack of cigarettes I made sure to shove in my pockets every time I climbed out on the balcony and scaled the ladder that led up to the rooftop, I had everything I needed.

I was up there one night with the lull of the battery-powered radio I had smuggled from Freddie and Brian's room keeping me company. The wind had picked up over the course of the day, lifting the hair off my shoulders and suspending it in the air. With shaky hands and a cigarette pinned between my lips, I struggled to bring the lighter's weak flame to the end of the stick. "Come on, come on!" I muttered frustratedly under my breath, my whole body beginning to tremble in withdrawal.

"Here," a voice sounded from behind me, startling me and causing me to drop the lighter and white stick to the ground. I looked back over my shoulder to see John, hand extended outward with an already burning cigarette pinched between his fingers. The shadows of the night masked the small grin that appeared on his face as I snatched the stick from his grasp and quickly put it up to my lips, deeply inhaling the nicotine and sinking back into the lawn chair.

I slumped down and let out a sigh of relief, the smoke that slipped past my slightly parted lips getting caught in the breeze as John joined my side, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes locked on the stretch of apartment buildings and houses in front of us. "How'd you know I was up here?" I grumbled, tapping the cigarette against the arm of the chair.

"You left our bedroom window wide open," he replied honestly, glancing down at me and smirking. "And I heard your cassette. Your playing and your voice are very...distinct."

I slowly shot a glare in his direction, keeping my eyes on him as I reached my hand out and silenced the radio. A disappointed look crossed his face as I took another long drag and held it in. He took a few steps forward and heaved a sigh, going on to say, "You know, Roger, I've never met anyone like you before." I glanced up at him and exhaled a cloud of smoke, watching him with tired eyes as he furthered the distance between us, grabbing onto the iron bar that wrapped around the roof's edge and looking down at the street below. "You're different."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I inquired, taking offense to his comment and rising from my seat to slowly walk over to where he stood.

He turned his head, his lips parted as if he was ready to answer me, but no words came out. He just...looked at me. Staring back, I brought the cigarette to my mouth and went to draw in another breath of nicotine when John smacked the white stick out of my hand. I went to snap at him for wasting yet another perfectly good cigarette, but he robbed me of the chance by pulling me close and having his lips meet mine in a swift, almost natural motion.