BILLET-DOUX ✦ CLASSIC ROCK

35 - brian may

Overdue request for the sweet ohladymoonshine ! I'm going to be honest, I've been wanting to write an imagine for Brian for a while. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, dear!
❪❤︎❫
Even coming home completely exhausted and weary from a gig at a local pub, Brian's eyes still lit up at the sight of you waiting for him in the sitting room that night. He was slumped over, swallowing around a yawn, with his guitar weighing heavy on his back.

You met him in the doorway with a smile, helping him divest himself of his guitar, jacket, and shoes. Brian grinned at you appreciatively, wrapping his lanky arms around your waist in a loose, loving embrace. His lips found your forehead and gave you sloppy, sleepy kisses.

"Hello, love," Brian greeted, his voice more of a slur from his exhaustion. "I've missed this. I'm sorry you have to wait up for me."

There wasn't one night when you minded staying up later for Brian to come home. You wouldn't be able to get any sleep if Brian wasn't there in bed next to you, and who would be there to soothe all of Brian's aches and pains away? How could you rest easy knowing that Brian was bumbling around on sore joints and stiff bones?

"It's nothing," you replied firmly, because you meant it. "Are you doing alright, Bri?"

Your fingers ran up and down the line of Brian's ribcage, circling around to trace the length of his spine. Underneath your fleeting touch, Brian melted, groaning softly as you applied a gentle pressure to his upper back, between his shoulder blades.

"Hurts after a while," he explained. "Hovering over my guitar."

You nodded sympathetically, continuing your massaging movements. "You're just too tall, baby. You need better support."

Brian hummed in agreement, eyes fluttering closed as he slumped over onto you. He wasn't dead weight, but just enough to let you know that he was there. A comforting presence that you wouldn't dare utter a single complaint about. Still, Brian remained anxious and insecure about his dependency on you.

Carefully, he unraveled himself from your embrace. "Maybe we should head to bed, Y/N. You're tired."

Before you could protest, Brian had already walked the length of the room and was disappearing up the stairs. You sighed to yourself at his stubbornness, jogging to catch up with his long legs. He was already in your master bathroom brushing his teeth by the time you made it upstairs.

You watched from the bedroom, fondly outlining the straight lines and angles of his body. Brian was stooped slightly, leaning forward to see himself properly in the mirror as he dragged the toothbrush across his front teeth. He was so caught up in his little world that he barely noticed you had followed him.

Making your presence known with a tap on the open door, Brian gasped, nearly choking on the mouthful of foam. He quickly spat it out in the sink, stiffening up like he would argue with you, but any fight visibly drained from his body as you two locked eyes.

"Brian, you're hurting. I want to help," you said, taking a tentative step closer.

Brian rinsed out his mouth and set the toothbrush aside. "It's alright, Y/N. I'm perfectly fine."

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that Brian was lying through his teeth. Each step he took was accented with a grimace, and his hands were perpetually holding his back, palms digging into the muscle in an awkward backwards position.