"You'd fall to your death, Taylor."
Roger's head whipped around, and he nearly fell off the building when he saw Brian standing there. He was leaning against the door, hair in a frizzled mess, an unshaven stubble blanketing his face. To anyone, he looked like hell. But to Roger, he looked like an angel.
"Br-Brian?" Roger's eyes widened, still in disbelief that Brian had come. What was he even doing there?
"Who else would I be?" Brian slurred a bit, giving away the fact that he was drunk.
Roger stood, taking a few careful steps forward to get a better look at the guitarist. "What are you doing here?"
Brian shrugged his shoulders, scratching his cheek a bit with his right hand before depositing it in his pocket. "I dunno.. Just figured I needed a place t' stay so I came here."
Roger fought the urge to run and hug Brian in his arms, never letting him go. He wanted nothing more than to do just that, but he needed to know if Brian would let him. "But you don't live here.. You haven't for six years."
Brian just shrugged his shoulders again, brushing past Roger and heading over to the edge of the roof. He looked up at the stars, the blurriness in his vision slowly disappearing.
Roger followed Brian, standing beside him, fearing that the older man would accidentally fall. He looked up to Brian, observing the dark circles below his tired, red eyes. Brian turned to face the blonde, sniffling a bit and speaking in a soft, quiet voice. "I'm sorry, Roggie."
Rogers's cheeks warmed at the sound of his nickname, the nickname that only Brian used. He spoke in an equally soft voice, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I was the one who drove you aw-"
"No, you didn't, Rog, it was all my fault," Brian interrupted, before his eyes sort of glazed over and he slumped forward into Roger's arms.
Roger grunted as he caught Brian, mentally cursing the older man for being so heavy. His nose twitched a bit at the scent of liquor. "Bloody hell, Bri, did you bathe in this shit?"
Roger dragged the guitarist halfway across the roof before he simply wasn't strong enough to go on. He sat down, carefully setting Brian's head in his lap. Roger sighed, shaking his head. Well, at least in this state, Brian wouldn't be going anywhere.
Roger scooted over so that he could lean up against an electrical box, keeping Brian's head in his lap. He smiled at his boyfriend, running his fingers through the older man's dark curls. Even in his sleep, Brian looked tired and stressed, but Roger still thought he was a beautiful sight. He hadn't seen the man in a week, and all he wanted to do was hold him in his arms forever. After all, that's really all Roger wanted, right from the start, wasn't it?
Roger leaned his head back against the box, his fingers still buried in Brian's hair, and he looked up to the stars and smiled. Tomorrow, Brian would wake up with a splitting headache, and he'd probably get mad and leave, never wanting to see Roger again. But for now, Roger would enjoy the moment, relish in it, and pretend it would never end.
-----
Brian awoke the next morning in a bit of a daze. He could hear his heart pounding in his head, but it was very faint, as if it were off in the distance. His eyes remained closed, but he smiled when he felt a familiar pair of hands on him. One was in his mess of chocolate locks, and the other rested on his chest. He wanted to take one of those hands and kiss it, but he didn't want to awaken the body they belonged to.
Brian sighed happily, the smile still on his face as he slowly opened an eye. He immediately shut it when he saw the extremely bright light of the sun. Where was he? He certainly wasn't in his warm bed; his back was killing him. He tentatively opened his eyes, squinting for a few minutes before he managed to fully open them. He saw that he was not in his bed, as he had suspected, but he was on a rooftop. The sun had just barely risen, so according to Brian, that meant it was around 8, possibly 9, in the morning.
