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benhardyroger · 5 years

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My Light (Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor)

Summary: You and Roger have have been in a relationship for a while and you started to feel like you should take your relationship further, since things were getting more serious. On your way back from a lovely evening out, you ask him to meet your parents before both of you leave on your trip to France, only you were struck with some terrible news.

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: Woo I finally wrote something again!! This was written for @bensrogers 3k celebration, congrats dummy :) The prompt inspiring this fic was “distance makes the heart grow fonder” and I’ve honestly been procrastinating on writing this for Years and I didn’t really proofread, so please excuse grammatical errors. I kinda feel like this one sucks and it could’ve been better, but with that said I hope you guys enjoy My Light!

Roger had been humming the tune you’d heard at dinner the entire way home. You hand was loosely intertwined with his as he swung it back and forth to the the slow romantic rhythm of the tune. He opened the door for you and let you lead him in. The room was cold and pitch black. Roger continued humming and raised his arm and twirled you under it.

You giggled, “Roger hold on let me find the light switch, I can’t see.”

He stopped humming. “Who needs light when I’ve got you, you’re my light,” he said pulling you closer to him by your waist so that you were against each other.

You rolled your eyes, not that the lack of light allowed him to see you do it anyways. “Alright, you may have had a bit too much bubbly, Mr. Corny.” You pushed yourself away from him and made your way to the wall to feel around and turn on the light. “There, much better. See?”

“Too bright,” he said, squinting his eyes. You rolled your eyes once more and led him up the stairs by his hand to wind down after an eventful evening.

When you got to the bedroom, Roger immediately flopped onto the bed and you took a seat on the bench across the room facing the small vanity mirror. You could see Roger behind you through it looking absolutely exhausted.

“Hey Rog, I uhh- I wanted to ask you a question,” you said, taking off your earrings. “Hmm?” he replied, eyes still closed sleepily. “I was thinking before we go on our trip you could maybe meet my parents?” you suggested timidly.

He sat up upon hearing that. His expression was slightly stunned, but overall unreadable.

“I just think it makes sense, we’ve been together long enough and we’re going on a trip together and that way, if it goes great we can start France off strong, and if it goes terribly, and i’m sure it won’t but if it does, we can just leave and forget about it and go eat some croissants or baguettes or whatever they have there,” you were rambling now and you didn’t hear him try to get your attention, “and you know i’m super excited because I know I’ve said this a hundred times before but I’ve always wanted to go and it’s going to be so fun and we’d get to see all the sights, the Eiffel Tower, the-”

“Y/N!” he said again slightly louder this time.

You blinked at his interruption, confused.

He bit his lip and his eyes fell downward. “I’ve been-“ he sighed, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You could tell by his expression and tone that it wasn’t going to be good. The excitement in your face dimmed as you prepared for what might possibly come next.

“The boys and I, we’re uhh- we’ve got another tour coming up...” he trailed off, unable to continue his thought.

“Well, that’s great, you love touring,” you replied supportively, but still cautious.

“Yeah but the thing is... look, it uhh, it’ll get in the way of France. I won’t be able to go,” he said quietly.

Your expression fell completely. What he had said didn’t register immediately but when it did your emotions were jumbled.

Before you could respond he continued, “But I want to meet your parents, we can still do that, I’d love to meet them.” It was a vain attempt to soften the shattering news you’d just received.

You still couldn’t say anything, though a number of options were running through your head. You couldn’t sort out if you were angry or sad or a combination of both.

“Would you please say something?”

You turned around from the mirror to look at him. “What would you like me to say? I can’t say anything, can I?” You got up from the bench and stood facing him head on.

He looked at you apologetically. “Y/N-” he started, getting up as well and making his way to you.

You interrupted before he could continue, “We’ve been planning this trip for a year, Roger. You’ve already cancelled it once before because you needed to focus on your album and recording, and now you’re going to leave for tour again?”

“I’m sorry, I know, but you know I can’t do much about it, I wish I could,” he said, reaching for your hand as if establishing some sort of physical contact would ease your anger.

You pulled your hand away before he could touch it. “You can’t do anything? I’m sure you could’ve done something earlier, you’ve known we were going for so long!”

“Come on, love, don’t be like that.”

“You knew it would come in the way didn’t you? You knew! And you kept it from me!” Your voice was getting louder now, but you didn’t care. “You don’t even want to go with me do you?”

He frowned at your remark. “You think I don’t want to go with you? Really?” he said quietly.

Your face was getting hotter and you felt the threat of angry tears making their way out. “Yes! That’s exactly what I think! You can’t expect me to think otherwise when you’ve cancelled it not once, but twice!” The two of you were getting closer now as the argument continued.

His voice was beginning to get louder too. “You know how important these things are, Y/N! I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d be like this!”

That made you even angrier and you felt the tears well up in your eyes. “‘Like this’? How do you want me to react? We don’t keep things from each other, Roger! And that sure as hell isn't a good excuse! You know how badly I wanted to go on this trip with you! I just wanted to spend time with you, don’t you get that?” You were practically in each others faces at this point.

“Please, you don’t care about that, you only want to go for croissants and the goddamn Eiffel Tower and all that stupid shit,” he said, quite obviously with the intent of taking a jab at you.

You took a step back and blinked causing warm tears to fall down your cheeks. Roger had ripped you a new wound. “Yeah? Okay.” You nodded, looking away from him as more tears fell. As stupid as what he said was, it stung. Saying that you didn’t care about him made you want to punch him in the nose, and worse, it implied that maybe he didn’t know you, that you didn't know each other as well as you thought you did.

“If you think I don’t care about you being there.. If you think I don’t care about you, after all this time, then maybe we’re just not…” You sighed. You couldn’t finish, but you didn’t have to, he knew what you were saying. You turned and walked towards the door. Your hand rested on the doorknob and you turned your head slightly to look back at him. “Have fun on your tour, Roger,” you said, opening the door and leaving without another word.

When you stepped out, the rain was pouring and you braced yourself under the protection of the front door overhead before running towards your car. The rain temporarily camouflaged the tears on your face, but when you sat in your car they rolled down uncontrollably. You slammed your hands against the steering wheel, yelling curses, then finally collapsed onto the wheel with your head in your arms.

Meanwhile, in the house Roger was throwing things in anger at the walls, that somehow weren’t suffering any damages from his rampage.

Neither of you were going to sleep that night.

***

It’d been over two weeks since you’d left Roger’s house. In the aftermath of your argument you found yourself spending the time at your parents’ house about an hour away. You didn’t think your mum even liked the idea of him anymore after seeing what a wreck you’d become the past few days. It was ironic, only a little while back you wanted him to meet your parents and now you weren’t sure if they’d even look him in the eye if they saw him, but neither would you.

For the first three days you’d cried all that you could, the mixture of disappointment and anger and sadness and hurt had washed over and become more of a dull ache in your heart. The fact that you’d had no contact with him in the past two weeks helped, you wouldn’t be able to stand it if you had to hear his voice.

You’d been staying in for a while, not in the mood to go out or do anything really, but now you thought you were finally ready to leave the house. You took a long, almost boiling shower and came out feeling more refreshed than you have in a while. You threw on some fresh clothes and pulled your wet hair out of the towel.

You heard the doorbell from upstairs, but your parents were out, so you ran down the stairs to get it, ruffling your wet hair to break up the clumps. “Coming!” A trail of water drops followed you down to the door.

When you pulled the door open, your eyes met with his baby blues. Your heart dropped and you stepped back in shock. “R-Roger…” You swallowed hard.

“Hey, Y/N.” The corner of his mouth twitched upward, but his eyes were sad. “Can we talk?” His demeanor was that of a guilty puppy.

You wanted to slam the door in his face. In your mind you knew you should’ve, and seeing his face reminded you of the nights spent in tears. But thinking back to the events of that night, you felt a twinge of regret. Maybe if he’d come to you sooner you wouldn’t feel this way, you probably would’ve undoubtedly turned him away, but now you thought if anything you should at least let whatever this is play out, just to know. “I-uhh… yeah.” You opened the door further and stepped aside to let him in. “Yeah, sure.”

He stepped inside and you closed the door behind him. “These are uh- these are for you,” he said holding out the bouquet of white roses that were in his hand.

You took them from him timidly, but couldn’t bring yourself to thank him for them. You set them down on the table. “Rog, what are you doing here?” you asked, rather bluntly.

“I missed you,” he said, looking at the ground. “And I had to see you.” He met your eyes with his. “I kept thinking about how we left things and you haven’t been answering my calls and I couldn’t just-” he sighed, “I couldn’t just leave things the way they were.” He stepped closer to you and there was only about a foot between you. You were looking down to avoid his gaze.- “Y/N, I am so sorry. And I know that doesn’t cut it, I know we’re past that, but I had to say it. I’m sorry I was such a jerk, I’m sorry for not telling you, I’m sorry I didn’t just put you first.” It had seemed rehearsed, the way that each apology rolled into the next one.

Your eyes began to gloss over, part of you was still angry, but you wanted to forgive him, you wanted the pain to end. Your head was going back and forth like a pendulum trying to figure out if you should forgive him, if that really is the right decision for the both of you. Every negative emotion you felt in the aftermath of your argument boiled back up and you took a deep breath in, as if sucking in the air would keep the tears from surfacing.

As if he could hear the thoughts running through your mind, he continued, “You don’t have to forgive me, I don’t expect you to.”

“I want to…” you said softly. “I want to forgive you so badly. But every time I think about it, I remember that you lied and you kept secrets, despite the fact that you knew how important it was to me.”

“I know. I know I did, and Y/N I wish I could take all of it back, I do.”

You finally looked up at him, the pools slipping from your eyes. “If you knew I wouldn’t forgive you, then why did you come here,” you asked demandingly.

He bit his lip. “Just because I don’t expect you to, doesn’t mean I’m not hoping you will.” he replied quietly. “Y/N I need you. You’re my better half, you’re my light. And…” he trailed off.

You raised your eyebrows at him, silently urging him to continue.

“And I’m catching a flight tomorrow morning. I couldn’t leave without seeing you.”

The tension in your face released at that and you blinked in confusion. “You-You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

A silence fell between you. His words, ‘you’re my light’ rang in your head. The awful feeling that came over you when he revealed that he was leaving made you realize that you need him, too. If you let him go without fixing things, you might lose him forever.

“Roger…”

His face lit up slightly with hope.

You looked up at him and lifted yourself up on your toes, holding on to him by his arms and pressed your lips against his. After the initial surprise, Roger bent down a bit to allow you to get off your toes and deepened the kiss. When you released you wrapped your arms around him, your cheek against his chest. “I forgive you,” you said.

You could feel the tension in his body loosen at your words.

“Thank god,” he said, resting his chin on your head. You stayed in your embrace for a while. “I missed this.” His eyes fell closed.

You pulled away suddenly to look him in the eyes, “but you aren’t getting off that easy, you need to promise you won’t ever, ever keep anything from me ever again.”

“I promise,” he said.

“I’m not done. You also have to make up for a lot when you get back. I’m going to hang this over your head for long time, so get ready buddy.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.”

You sighed. “I don’t want you to go, Rog. We were going to spend a trip with no one but each other and now you’re going,” you said, knowing that it wouldn’t really make a difference.

“And I promise I will make up for that, but you know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

You scoffed, “Yeah well, whoever said that was stronger than me.”

He grabbed your hand and held it in his. “You’ll do fine and besides,” he pulled a stiff piece of paper from the inside of his jacket, “you’re going to meet me along the way.”

He handed it to you and you unfolded it. It was a plane ticket.

“Is this…”

“Yup” he confirmed, face gleaming.

The destination written on it: Orly Airport, France.

As you were about to say something else, your mother entered the room. Her smile fell when she noticed Roger in the room by your side.

“Who’s this?” she asked rather sharply, knowing in the back of her mind the identity of the blonde stranger.

“Mum- This is- Uh-” you sighed, “This is Roger.”

She frowned at the mention of his name. “What is he doing here?” she asked politely, but with a coarse undertone.

“I came to give Y/N here, these flowers,” he added in, picking them up from the table.

You looked up at Roger with a smile. “Yeah.” You turned your gaze back to your mother. “We’re alright,” you said, reassuring her.

Her expression softened. Roger stuck out a hand which she took hold of and shook softly.

“Rog?” He turned to look at you. “Would you like to stay for dinner? My mum makes a mean spaghetti and meatballs.”

“I’d love to.”

You and Roger helped set up the table, him placing the forks and knives slightly crooked, and you going behind him and fixing them.

From the kitchen you heard your mother, “Roger, honey, could you help me in the kitchen?”

He gave you a slightly nervous look and you smiled reassuringly at him. “Go, she doesn’t bite,” you said nodding your head in the direction of the kitchen.

He headed over to the kitchen and your mother was busy over the stove. He stood off to the side of her while she worked. “You need help?” he asked.

“Roger I called you in here to talk to you,” she said, still focusing on cooking.

He felt a pit in his stomach. This can’t be good.

She turned to him finally, “Y/N said that you’re both okay now, but you didn’t see her these past few days. My baby was really hurting, I need you to promise me that won’t happen again.”

He felt a pang of guilt at hearing that. Having to face you after hurting you was already difficult enough, but hearing it from your mother made him feel a new level of terrible.

“Mrs. Y/L/N, I am so sorry I put her through that. I made a mistake, it was stupid and selfish of me. But I love your daughter, more than anything. I promise I won’t ever hurt her again.”

His voice was sincere and apologetic, and you could hear it from the corner outside the kitchen where you were eavesdropping.

“Right then,” she said. She turned to the cupboard and grabbed the bowls. “Here,” she said, plopping them into his hands with a smile.

He smiled back at her and exited the kitchen. When he turned the corner he saw you, leaning against the wall outside the kitchen. “Hey, whatcha doing there?”

You straightened up quickly. “Uh- nothing…”

He chuckled a bit. “So how much of that did you hear?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards. You placed a kiss on his cheek. “Just enough,” you replied. You took the bowls from him, turned around, and walked briskly towards the dining table, leaving him smiling behind you.

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artmusicjoy · 5 years

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i just want to scream into an abyss

but i also want hang out with friends

but everyone is an ocean away (even though I’m meeting new people but haven’t reached out to them because I don’t know how to nor do I know how available they are but i feel better talking with them, is that because they’re cool people or because they’re people at all? also i’ve kept in touch with pretty much everyone from home anyway so why the fuck do i feel so alone?)

i just want a hug (i like hugs, ok?!?!)

i just want to talk (i don’t even know what about. something deep but simple and trashy but not pointless even though realistically everything is pointless)

i just want something (probably dinner, but I feel sick from eating so much earlier, or am i actually hungry again and just can’t differentiate the feelings because i’m fortunate enough to not wonder where / when my next meal is, except now that I’m feeding myself I can’t get off my lazy ass to take care of myself. or am I just joking about dinner because i can’t describe this want i actually feel?)

i want to do something

(God going back through this makes that part feel like shitty poetry^^^)

and now i’m going through to bold the original stream of consciousness so anyone reading can see how editing thoughts works, because I can’t even trust my gut on my emotions in real time. or did I just say i can’t trust myself because of a jaded character i was watching a few minutes ago? i can’t even trust my own commentary on my commentary. I’m a mess.

i want to scream and cry and laugh and run and dance and write and read and study and cook and break things and punch a wall without alerting my flatmates and actually feel like I’m close with them without coming across as weird for not getting to know them better the past month and just feel normal

but there is not such thing as truly normal so why do I care so much about being it?

would friends even help me in the long term or just distract me in the moment until we go our separate ways for the night or day or week or lifetime. as much as i love my friends and know they’ll want to help, I don’t want to weigh them down with my wellbeing. Especially since everyone has their own shit to deal with that’s arguably worse than mine. Yet if they said that to me, I’d reply “someone with a broken ankle won’t (or at least shouldn’t) tell someone with a sprained ankle that their pain isn’t real or valid.”

my is my default feeling so numb and so painful at the same time

why can’t I cry about this? like i physically have felt the need to cry in the back of my mind for the past like three weeks and have only gotten a few tears out

i need to get more done

even if more is crying

why am i bothering to fix any mistakes I type as though I’m going to post this

should I post this or would my friends worry too much? should I let my vent into the infinite abyss of the internet and maybe someone will relate and feel better by seeing it

or am i just typing so I can look through my thoughts like a diary while not talking to myself (like a crazy person in the movies)

is it even that normal that I can like feel the need to cry build in my life? do i really feel better when cry or is it just the relief of being empty (i just fixed two more spelling mistakes)

I keep telling myself in class that I’m motivated enough to work on the next project (or reading for my classes) and I even started an idea for one, but I’ll probably scrap it because it was so spur of the moment

and I’m behind on the dictionary project partially because I don’t give a shit, partially because I feel like I’m behind in the class when I’m really not, and partially because I feel like putting it off knowing I’l get it done eventually because I always do

I can boast never using an extension even though it means I’ve stayed up till 3 AM to write two paragraphs, only to stop at 3:30 to take a shower that I was putting off until I finished my work, as though disregarding my body’s health is the way to keep my mind from staying idle

and that was a year ago

now I just feel bad about feeling bad and not doing the things I know will help me

I fucking wrote my 300 level English final paper while my mom was packing up my dorm room so I could go home for winter break and have everything to be abroad. She was so worried seeing me work in the moment, so down to the wire. But so proud that I was able to buckle down and do it. Whereas I felt like shit for not doing it sooner. It was a topic I CHOSE and I LIKED IT. WHY THE FUCK DID I PUT IT OFF>!!>??!? I don’t even remember, probably because of my other, less exciting but way bigger project weighing down my spirit

if I just change my scenery then I’ll probably feel better

go to the common room to be on my computer instead of the same for walls of my room that I’ve decided were better because they’re private and nobody can judge me in here, but they also can’t get to know me and I can’t get anything (or much, I’m somehow doing some of the readings) done. You know, like a few other people do and then I’ll feel weird for only starting to do it now. idk

if I could just find another passion to keep me going, a new show or book

god i need to get the courage to go enjoy the library here. I feel so out of place there. nothing’s worse than feeling like a waste of space and a stupid piece of shit in a university library full of people like me who are probably procrastinating or struggling to finish work or even trying to figure out the English language because they’re from the freaking Netherlands and India and everywhere else

while im just the american in England who is struggling over something I probably wouldn’t feel if my life were just a bit worse. as though switching my life with some starving child in the arctic circle would make me feel better because i’d be too close to death to feel like shit and they could enjoy all the benefits I feel like i’m abusing by wasting away on my computer typing into a void rather than actually working to resolve my own issues

because maybe this post will somehow help me resolve things by putting them all out for others to see. or so i can reference it later. idfk

like “hi friends, I’m feeling like shit. Also I’m loving my time abroad, I had chocolate pancakes for dinner last week and I somehow feel like I have the right to complain about doing nothing and feeling bad about doing nothing.”

like knowing you’re a piece of shit doesn’t make you better than anyone because everyone should be trying to work towards a better self and more complete sense of self but i don’t even know where I’m going with this sentence, let alone my fucking life

maybe I should get a boring office job because then I’ll know what to expect and how to get my mundane task done instead of trying to build up the will to be my own boss as a writer and still never feel motivated to put my LONG list of ideas out into the world beyond my desktop

I seriously have over 70 pages of bulleted ideas, half of them are barely formed but i can’t bring myself to get rid of them because they might be worth something to someone one day

i wonder how future historians will deal with old laptops and the documents that were never shared there or the posts that feel so personal but so private as anyone can find them but only some will know the face behind my screen

do I want to share these thoughts with everyone? just close friends? or nobody, not even myself?

fuck it

To my friends: don’t feel obligated to read all this or reply. But you can if you want. Wow this sounds so manipulative, like reverse psychology bullshit. I’m sorry.

I’m second guessing posting all this. But after all the effort I put in, I think it’s important to have and remember or whatever.

here it goes

EDIT: two minutes later and I feel like an attention whore and feel bad and need to point it out before people (strangers mostly, but still) make that judgment of me themselves. And now feeling like more of an attention seeking piece of shit for pointing it out. why is my brain so broken

would I ever really talk like this face to face? will people see me differently after this? i... whatever

#long post #vent #my thoughts #mental health

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