Bed of Roses

Chapter 9

ACT TWO - NIGHT

"Everything is more intense at night."

Chapter 9

The smell of bacon and eggs along with the sound of your voice singing woke Roger up.

You made me a woman tonight

Dream until the morning light

He smiled against the pillow. You were singing a song from this new band you really enjoyed - Fleetwood Mac - and he actually didn't have anything against it, but liked to pretend he just to tease you.

He got up and started to look for his boxers. When he found them, he realised he had a cut on his hand. He didn't really care. He probably cut it when he punched the drums off its risers yesterday, but it was fine now.

As he moved downstairs, your singing got louder.

Forever

Forever, love

Together

Together, love

"Morning, babe", he said, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your neck. He smirked when you shivered at his touch. "Morning, Rog", you answered, still focused on the eggs and bacon that were in front of you on the stove. "Are you feeling better?", you asked him, breaking away from his embrace to grab two plates on the cupboard. "Sure. I think I still smell like lavender, too, which is probably an improvement on my smell of cigarettes", he said, as you served the bacon and the eggs on the plates.

You moved closer to him and hugged him. "Shut it. You always smell amazing. Yeah, like cigarettes, but also mint and something else, more masculine. Like, more woody", you said, and got on the tip of your toes, just so you could breathe his scent. "But yeah, you do still smell like lavender", you laughed.

He quickly grabbed you by the waist and put you on the kitchen counter. "Talking about wood, you know", he winked, pressing himself against your hips. "You stole my kimono again", he said, looking at what you were wearing. "I did. Thought it would look better on me", you said, and he laughed. "You're not wrong", he answered, moving his hand so he could cup your jaw. But something caught your attention.

"Roger, you're bleeding", you tensed, and grabbed his hand so you could really check. "Yeah, guess I hurt myself yesterday. You know, pushing the drums. The cut probably opened up again as I got you on the counter", he shrugged. "But I didn't notice that last night", you answered, jumping off the counter and looking for the first aid kit. "We got a bit busy last night", he answered you, and you smiled, the kit in your hands.

"Let's get this cleaned up, so my favourite drummer can still throw me on kitchen counters without dropping blood on his japanese kimono", you answered. As you cleaned his cut, you thought about his visit to Japan earlier this year.

He tried to convince you to go with him for months, saying how much history Japan had, how he'd promise you could skip the press he had to do and go to all the museums, how much fun it would be to go to a new country, one that none of you knew, and discover it. But you had your finals.

He called you every night, and you asked about his day. He'd tell you everything about how crazy the fans were, how none of them really understood how big their success was in Japan, how Deacy was reacting to the fact that he was a fan favourite there, and how he spilled tea on himself on a fancy tea ceremony they attended for the press, but he was sure nobody noticed it. How he thought of you when he wore his ugliest beret, the one you said smelled like weed and made him look like a crazy old lady, but you'd always smile when you saw him wearing it. He didn't knew it was because you were always marveled by the fact he could make you swoon for him, no matter how ugly his outfit choices were.