Photographs and Memories

Part 3

Brian looked down and watched Roger's hand move with the rise and fall of his chest. His smile reappeared as he reached up and covered the blonde's hand with his own, giving it a gentle squeeze. Brian shifted his head to look to his side, but was immediately overcome by pain. In that one, small movement, Brian's entire body ached. His head got the worst of it.

This made Brian close his eyes again and curl up a bit, hugging Roger's hand and lower arm to his chest. Brian struggled to remember the night's events, trying to figure out why he was in so much pain. He remembered getting drunk, leaving the bar around one... But how did he end up on a rooftop? And to whom did this roof belong?

Then Brian remembered. All reality came back to him, and he recalled his little split with Roger, and all the events of the past several weeks. But... If he had left Roger... Why was he with Roger now? Brian was sure that he would get an answer to his question if he could remember what happened between now and when he left the bar.

Brian shifted a bit, his hurting body causing him to whimper, which roused Roger. He opened his sleepy eyes, yawning as he did so. The morning sun bothered him as it did with Brian, so it took him awhile to get fully adjusted.

When Roger saw Brian in his lap, he looked down into his wide, dark eyes. Just staring at him. Brian looked into Roger's tired, slightly aged, baby blues. For a moment, both men were afraid to move. Roger, because he knew if he did, their lovely little moment would be ruined. Brian, because, well, frankly, Brian was scared of how Roger would react to his presence.

Roger was the first to move, mainly because his leg was asleep and he really hated that feeling. He averted his gaze, looking up at the soft, white clouds drifting above them. Brian cleared his throat and looked away as well, carefully sitting up. Every muscle, bone, joint, and drop of blood was sore, as a concrete floor was no feather bed. He winced as he stretched his back out, his vision slightly blurred with dark spots as his headache worsened.

Roger quickly stood up, shaking out his leg and trying to get some feeling back into it. He ran a hand through his messy, unkempt hair as he walked over behind the electrical box to, well, take care of business, if you get my drift.

Brian, though, took care of a different kind of business as he vomited last night's alcohol, a small salad he ate, and whatever else was in his stomach. When he finished, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve as sat back against the box, whining a bit when his head hit the warm metal. Roger offered Brian his red handkerchief, which the guitarist took gratefully.

At this point, Roger wasn't quite sure what to do. He and Brian hadn't exchanged any words since last night, and he was afraid to be the first to speak. So, Roger did what Roger always did. He sat down beside Brian and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Brian, in response, leaned his head on Roger, groaning as he closed his eyes.

"Sorry I'm such a pain," Brian croaked in a groggy, hungover voice.

"Don't be sorry, love, I'm here for you," Roger whispered in reply, giving Brian a squeeze.

"R-Rog?"

"Yes, Brian?"

Brian cleared his throat, trying to rid himself of the scratchy sound. "Can we go home?"

Roger's eyes widened and he grinned, glad that Brian couldn't see it, as his eyes were still closed. "Of course we can. I'll help you."

Roger carefully stood up, nearly dragged Brian with him, since the older man decided upon being a dead weight. Roger didn't want to argue, though, since that would surely start something between he and his boyfriend.

Brian did his best to help Roger, leaning against his shoulder as the pair left the roof, carefully taking the stairs down to the street. Their short walk back to their house was silent. Again, they were both shy to speak, almost the same way Brian was shy around Roger just a few years ago.