BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

8 - roger waters

Requested by alicemaydaltrey ! I wanted to try my hand at some insecure Rog, so I hope you like this!
❪❤︎❫
The trees were alight with fiery reds and oranges as autumn laid its hand firmly upon the land. The passing breeze had a crisp bite to it, a taste of what was to come in the winter months.

There was something about fall that made you melancholy. It could have been the bittersweet death of summer, of the end of all nights rolling in sweaty sheets and of the lunchtime chatter shared on crowded porch stoops.

The city was desolate.

Bundled up in a sweater to combat the chill in the air, you made your way down the street. No one was out. No one had been out since the temperature drop. It just didn't seem worth it anymore. Although you weren't a fan of the cold, you were distracted by the beauty in the bright leaves and found yourself venturing far past where you had originally planned to go.

Your own flat was lonely without Roger. There was no one else you spent your hours with. No other friends save for the rest of the band. You told yourself that you never got a chance, that you were busy. Too busy for frivolous parties and childish giggling over wine glasses filled to tipping. Whenever you were free, you ended up with Roger, talking the night away or sharing moments in silence over plates of seafood and beer.

The idea of spending a night in with Roger had lured you out of your house, bringing with you a meager compensation of chocolates tucked into the pockets of your coat.

Roger's flat was decidedly inconspicuous amidst the backdrop of middle-class homes. He'd once told you that the privacy was a priceless peace that he couldn't achieve in a four-story mansion. You knew there was more to it, but never pressed him. There was a homey feeling about where he lived. Try as he might to be cold and austere in public, Roger was terribly sentimental.

It was a quiet sentimentality. One you barely picked up on until almost a year after you had been together.

A few of your books had made their way onto his shelves and there was an extra toothbrush in the bathroom. Some of your favorite foods that you knew Roger couldn't stand ended up in his kitchen, and whenever you asked for coffee instead of tea, Roger always had it on hand. At first, you had thought nothing of it. But it dawned on you. Roger was letting you in.

It had happened so gradually that you had hardly noticed, and you kicked yourself for not taking things as seriously as Roger had been.

To you, he hadn't shown any outward signs of affection other than sitting beside you while watching television or brushing your fingers together as you walked. Roger was awkward when it came to great displays. He always froze up when your eyes locked, startled each time you leaned over for a kiss.

These hints of insecurity would fade immediately after they appeared, like ripples slowly fazing out, clearing up, and he would be back to normal. You hoped that Roger would grow accustomed to you, to the idea of being touched gently, without any sexual intent. But that day seemed so far away. You knew that you'd be willing to wait.

Once you reached Roger's front door, you fingered the small key in your pocket nervously. Roger had made you a copy, sneaking it into your jacket when you weren't paying attention. Still, you worried that your presence would be unwelcome. Just because Roger gave you a key didn't mean you had to come every single day, but it had become a hard habit to break.