Bed of Roses

Chapter 19

ACT 3 - DAWN

"It's the moment night time seems weaker and everything seems easier to figure out"

Chapter 19

"I guess", you answer, without much thought, and you start laughing as you both get up and move to the seats in front of you, so you can be as close as possible, nothing between the two of you. "This is so surreal. I'm having a hard time believing you're really here", you tell him, and his eyes go wide as he answers "Tell me about it", and takes another sip of his beer.

"I come inside this bar, a bit nostalgic because I've moved into a new place, and they're playing fucking Fleetwood Mac of all fucking things", he says, and you laugh at the way he says the name's band, so sarcastic, so ironically annoyed; you didn't know you missed it so much.

"And I think, well, that's a huge fucking coincidence, so I get to the bar and here you are. In that dress, too! I'm actually thinking they dropped something in my drink and I'm talking to an empty chair as I'm having a weird acid trip", he completes, and you're laughing non-stop, his smile widening at your response.

"Maybe they really did drop something in my drink, cause it must be an acid trip, it's too good to be true. Why are you here?" you ask, and he looks confused.

"I live nearby! I still live here, you know. You're the one who moved out. My acid trip theory makes way more sense", he tells you, and his smile gets even wider at your response; you're laughing again.

"You're right", you tell him, and you take a sip of your own drink.

"See!! You're saying I'm right right away! This must be an acid trip. Now tell me, hallucination of Y/N: why are you in London?", he asks, and you give him half a smile, shy.

"I got a job offer at the British Museum. Sorry I didn't tell-", you start apologizing, but you're interrupted by him as he pulls you into a hug. "I'm so happy for you!! You deserve it, more than anyone else", he tells you, letting you go of his arms, but you need to catch a breath before you can say anything else.

Roger's smell of patchouli and cigarettes fills your lungs, and you feel like you're melting on your chair.

You suddenly remember why you were horny most of the time around him.

His fucking smell.

And that was not just it - his jaw was more defined, his hair was shorter and bleached, and you had to stop yourself from running your fingers through them; it was even harder now that he broke the invisible barrier of touch between the two of you, the hug proving to you both that the other one was really there.

You noticed that he was looking at your details in close up, too - your lips, your eyes.

"Thanks, Rog", you answer, and you notice how much you missed saying his nickname to him, his reaction to it - his expression softens as soon as he hears it.

"When did you get here? Why didn't you call me?", he asks, and you give him a half smile. "Less than 24 hours ago. I wanted to call you - I called as soon as I got the job offer. It felt right that you should be the first to know, after everything, you know", you said, and he nodded lightly.

"But you never picked up", you said, and he sighed. "I moved out of our flat a couple months ago", he says. "Yeah, I thought so. But how's everything? How are the boys? The music? Why is your hair so short and bleached? Not that I don't love it, of course", you wink, back at your ironic flirting competition without a second thought.

"It's not that shorter", he says, holding a strand between his fingers and analysing it for a second. "I just thought I'd look better if I was even more blonde. Didn't really think much about it. The boys are doing good - we still fight all the time. But I'm very proud of our new album, don't know if you've heard of it", he said, and you scoffed.