#wewillwriteyou requests

A bright, yellowish aura glows right behind his head making his already blond hair looks like golden strands. You want to touch them, to lock your fingers inside them, to intertwine your digits there forever. However, you resist to that impulsive temptation, to look at him one minute more.  

His lips are parted while whispered breaths escape his mouth, slightly curved to form a small, fulfilled smile.

You smile too, mirroring his satisfied expression.

Another thunder explodes in the sky, causing him to curl his nose and inhale deeply as he rolls on his tummy rotating his face in the opposite direction exposing his back and nape to your adoring eyes.

His circular halo fades a bit before starting to shine again, now completely visible.

You slowly slither closer to his body, propping yourself on one elbow to lay your face on the palm of your right hand.

The skin of his shoulders is pale, almost lucent; every relaxed muscle reminds you of those Greek statues people go photograph in museums or admire on the pages of Art’s books.

Your eyes trace every curve of his back with their gaze until they fall on the two, tiny red lines just above his shoulder blades. A trembling finger reaches and gently caresses them.

He breathes heavily and the circle of light around his head intensely shines, before he stretches his neck and he finally turns around to look at you.

You fondly smile down at him while a hint of red blooms on your cheeks.

“’morning,” he mumbles pushing his face on the pillow while he yawns. You giggle and look at his long lashes, his big blue eyes, and his little rounded nose.

Every detail of his face seems perfectly carved from the hands of the most expert of the artists. And, well, in a sense it is.

He catches you staring. He laughs. A melodious chuckle.

“Who are you?” you ask all blushed and shy when his hand stretches towards your face to trace shapes on your cheek and near the corner of your lips.

The halo is back, its light shines more than the thunderbolt that has just whitened every wall of the room. Another rumble follows.

“’m Roger” he replies in the most innocent tone possible. You roll your eyes playfully and fall on the mattress keeping your gaze focused on the ceiling.

“That’s not what I meant, you know it” your voice comes out low, cracked by the tiniest hint of sadness in it. Roger moves the sheets that are encircling the lower part of his body to slide closer.

You do not dare look at his face, but the corner of your eyes catches the light that comes from him.

“It’s complicated, right?” you whisper turning your head just enough to meet his eyes. The blue in his irises changes: from crystalline, it becomes darker, as a sea ready to welcome a summer storm.

“It’s complicated” Roger echoes you, pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You nod to yourself and sadly smile at him.

You can see his halo fading away as he adjusts himself by your side to pull you closer to his chest; you lay your head on his shoulder and let your hand lazily draw circles on his torso.

His hand is intertwined in your hair, and all around you a dull calm is hugging you tightly, in contrast with the pouring rain that falls outside and wets the window’s glass.

You know what is going to happen. You know you have to say goodbye.

“’ll miss you,” you admit, mumbling against the warm skin of his arm. Roger furrows his eyebrows and turns his head to catch at least a little portion of your face.

“What do you mean?” he asks, while his thumb plays with your earlobe causing heavenly shivers to trespass your spine. You sigh a half laugh and look at him.

“You do know what I mean – a shadow of guiltiness drops on his face, so you extend your arm to sweetly palm his cheek – that’s okay, Rog. You made me live the best night of my life, no regrets. About nothing. I’ll never forget you”

You slowly push him down until your lips glue together into a passionate kiss. Roger hums and cups your face to deepen the kiss.

He starts to feel a familiar tingling coming from his back and your fingers have just the time to touch the free skin of his shoulders because in a second a pair of candid wings spread open.

You widen your eyes and with a childish, admiring expression, you start to caress the white feathers that are covering both of you as a shield.

Roger smiles widely and kisses your forehead while the halo around his head begins to shine, as it has never done.

When your eyes meet his, you notice a thin layer of tears that are pooling inside his blue irises; a strange sense of preoccupation fills your heart, and you cannot help but stroke his sad face.

“What?” you ask softly, almost under your breath.

“No regrets” he echoes your words and you nod silently, while the tip of his right-wing tickles your shoulder.

“That’s what I said”

“And I agree. Deeply and truly – Roger adds, depositing a light kiss on your lips again – but I'm sorry”

He abandons his forehead against yours and in a moment, he feels tiny.

Ironically, he feels the vulnerable one. The one who needs protection. Therefore, you encircle his waists with your arms, to cradle him. To reassure him. To have him closer to your body.

He stretches his arms to sustain his weight and look into your eyes. He is crying glistening tears, which simultaneously reminds you of raindrops, snowflakes and little diamonds.

“For what?” you feebly question, already quivering of concern for the answer.

His blond hair has become a single whole with his aura, forming a single golden flare that crowns his head. His blue eyes are simply ethereal, while his wings fully open above your head.

Roger gives you a sad smile, caresses your cheek and kisses your lips one more time, before finding the courage inside his immortal heart to say:

“Because you’ll forget about me”

A white veil falls in front of your eyes. Celestial harmonies fill your ears. Then, nothing.

Black. Darkness.

You wake up in your bed. Alone. Confused.

You rub your eyes when a roaring thunder startles you. The intense, infinite grey sky that is visible from your open-curtains window is blinding your sight and you have to cover your face with your hand.

A terrible headache spreads from your temples and tangled memories of the previous night crowd your mind. You even start to wonder how you have reached your bed and your apartment safely.

You sit on the mattress and pass a hand through your hair, feeling your head spinning like a top.

Suddenly, the corner of your eye sees something: a white, little thing laid on the pillow on the other side of the bed.

You take it between your index finger and your thumb, studying it, making it spinning among your fingers.

The doorbell rings unexpectedly and you flinch on the bed, immediately jumping on your feet to approach the apartment door.

You put yourself on your tiptoes to see through the peephole and smile when you notice the figure of your best friend tapping her foot on the ground, waiting for you to welcome her inside.

“Finally! – she sighs when you open the door for her – what are you still doing in your pajama?! It’s almost three in the afternoon and we have to go!” she exclaims, indicating your once again confused figure.

I never sleep this much. What has happened yesterday night?

You ask yourself.

“We have to go … where?”

You ask your friend.

Her chin touches the floor and she raises an eyebrow, visibly incredulous by your question.

“Are you joking? There is the concert tonight! The Queen’s concert, for God’s sake! We’ve been waiting for this night for months, how could you forget about it?”

A strange warmth showers your body and you cannot actually tell the reason why. Only a pair of twisted flashes from a distant night fill your head for the fraction of a second.

Your friend inclines her head in curiosity and points at your left hand, laying still by your side.

“What’s that? And why are you so lost, ‘re you alright?”

You look down, between your fingers. The white thing you have collected from the bed a moment before is still there.

A white feather.

You look at it. You spin it. And you smile.

A reborn consciousness hits you like an ocean’s wave.

“It’s nothing – you answer to your friend, who is evidently confused – I just had a dream, last night. A beautiful dream” you add, more to yourself than to her.  

“Okay – she shrugs and scrolls her head – but now go! Move! Get ready!” and, saying that, she pushes you towards your bedroom as you both start laughing loudly.

“I can’t wait to see them playing! We must be front row! –

She starts and, as you get dressed, begins to fantasize about the concert.

- I have to touch Freddie’s hands! And John and Brian must notice me! Not to mention Roger! He is so handsome”

She sighs and you cannot help but curve your lips in a wide smile when she mentions his name.

“He so good at singing as well! And, believe or not, people who went to their concerts told me that live he even sounds better! He sings like an angel!”

An angel.

Those two words echo in your ears and your heart jumps a little in your chest. You softly caress the feather you have laid on your nightstand, before turning around to look at your friend.

You smile at her and, adjusting your bag on your shoulder ready to go, you friendly pat on her arm and say: