Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 49

I didn't keep my promise.

After John dragged us both back to the bar, the rest of the night turned into a blur for me. All I remembered was being sat down in a booth, John telling me to stay there until the show was over, and me disobeying him to wander onto the dance floor. From that moment on, it was all unrecognizable faces, indistinguishable bodies grinding against mine, and random shots offered to me from left and right.

The next I knew, I was waking up with a pounding headache and a sore body. I groaned as I turned away from the light that was shining directly in my face, a warmth dripping down the side of my face. My eyes fluttered open in discomfort and fixated on the small pool of red that had begun to stain the sheets beneath me. I inhaled sharply and shot up, the blood that was flowing from my nose seeping into my mouth and hitting the back of my throat. I gagged at the awful iron taste and jumped out of the bed, startling John awake as I stumbled across the room, tearing open the miniature icebox beside the dresser and grabbing a handful of ice.

With the ice melting in my hand and the blood dripping with no end in sight, I frantically looked around the room for something to put the ice in. My eyes locked on the discarded pair of underwear closest to me and, without a second thought, I snatched them up and dropped the ice cubes into the cloth, quickly bringing it up to my bleeding nose and falling against the dresser with a relieved sigh.

My tired eyes traveled over to the motel bed where John was lying on his side, his head resting in the palm of his hand and the corner of his lips perked upward into a smirk. The blankets were draped over him just right, exposing his chest and calves but cloaking his waist and thighs.

"I'm a mess, aren't I?" I croaked out with a pitiful chuckle.

"Well, this bed sure is," he replied cheekily, tugging at covers to demonstrate his point. I rolled my eyes and averted my gaze to my lap, listening to the bed and floorboards creak underneath the bassist as he joined my side and grabbed my free hand in his. I glanced down at our entangled hands and bit my lip as he gave it a slight squeeze, bringing my gaze up to his.

"You know those are mine, right?" he asked, nodding his head towards the makeshift cold compress.

"Makes it all the better," I sneered, pushing the ice further into my face and getting a laugh out of the bassist. I couldn't help but join in, laughing along with him until our laughter died down and was replaced with an awkward silence. The two of us took to looking around the room, avoiding one another's gaze and the conversation that neither of us wanted to have.

Yet our hands stayed together, and at one point, John began to rub his thumb across my skin, building up the courage to blurt out, "I know you probably don't remember what happened last night—"

"I didn't do anything bad, did I?" I interrupted him, my mind jumping to a thousand conclusions based on previous nights' experiences—passing out completely, turning into the bar's slut, thinking I'm Freddie fucking Mercury...I've done it all. Of course, none of them were of my own recollection; rather, they were accounts from other people.

He chuckled. "No, you didn't do anything bad. You just...you did something I didn't think you'd ever do, and I just wanted to let you know that...that it really meant a lot to me." A blush crept up in his cheeks as he met my gaze, his lips parting ever so slightly into a small grin.

I smiled back, simply because I knew it was expected of me. I still had no idea what it was that I did, and why it meant so much to him, but I wasn't going to be the one to break that to him. I wanted him to think that what I did—whatever it was—was intentional.

John saw right through me, though, his smile fading as he said, "You don't know what you did, do you?"

"Of course I do!" I tried to convince him, but he kept staring at me, waiting for me to tell him the truth. "Fine, I don't. Okay? I'm sorry," I answered honestly, dropping my hand and the ice-and-underwear compress into my lap as the two of us shared another short-lived bout of laughter that ended with a sigh from the bassist as he squeezed my hand again.

"Just know it means a lot to me, Rog," he repeated himself softly, bringing his hands up to my face and planting a gentle kiss on my lips. His face scrunched up as he pulled away from me, muttering, "You taste awful."

"Well, blood was just gushing from my nose, so..." I teased before he shook his head and stood up from my side, crossing the room in nothing but his drawers and disappearing into the motel's bathroom. I bit my lip and stared at the door that closed with a click, wondering what it was that I did last night.

I really couldn't remember.