Rock 'n' Roll Suicide | Roger Taylor

Chapter 2

Brian and I walked into our apartment. Our apartment is ridiculously clean, of course just because of Brian. He has that cleaning mania that I absolutely despise. Of course, I do not wish to live in a dirty place but Brian has taken the thing to the next level. I don't dare to place an empty mug somewhere or else Brian is doing the chorus as loudly as he can just to remind me who does all the cleaning in there.

"I am tired." I groaned as I dropped over the couch not bothering to take off my shoes, much to Brian's dismay. Brian knelt in front of me and took off my shoes not being able to witness his shinning parke getting dirty by my Doc. Marten's boots.

"Well the day is not finished, you still got all the night to serve drinks and all." He reminded me as he placed my boots on the shoe case and came to sit next to me.

"That doesn't change the fact that I am tired," I said.

"You should have thought of that before you went and spilled the tea on the projector. Anyways. Tell me about your University. Was it what you expected?" He asked, interested in my studies. He is always interested in what I have to say, even the stupidest of things. He always does that and I appreciate it, to be honest, he is a great listener.

"I like it. A lot. It's what I expected it to be and more. Our professor. I mean the classical studies professor is something else I swear! He knows half the world and has those crazy stories about the most unexpected places. His name is Professor Joel. And his class, well it's not a class. It's an office so pretty I could actually live there for sure. We do not have those school desks and all, we have this round table that we sit down and discuss and ughhhhh I love it!" I started saying my excitement making Brian's face light up with a smile.

Professor Joel's office is actually really pretty. It is a very friendly and welcoming environment that doesn't give you the slightest idea of a class. It has big bookcases on every wall and many many flowers and it is just divine. The big round table is what earned me from the beginning. We just sat there and talked about philosophy and all the subjects that I love. I swear this place is going to be one of my favourites ever.

"Great. I am sure you'll do great things in there. You are quite the brain kid." He smiled shrugging a hand over my shoulders pulling me on his sides on a side hug.

"You shoppy git..." I chuckled. With Brian, we always had the kind of relationship where he was the protective brother but also he was the stupid best friend and we always have been like that. Like, for sure, he was always protective since he is nine years older than me but he is also the kind of best friend that would cheer you up when you have a bad day.

"Yea you call me shoppy git but you secretly love it." He responded with a chuckle. And he was right. Of course, I love it but he will never know because I will never tell him.

I slowly drifted onto sleep on Brian's arms, the tiredness of the day washing over me. Naps like this are what I am living for. When you are tired and you just want to sleep for the whole day and you close your eyes for just a second and you fall into a deep sleep and you totally do not understand a thing. I don't think there is a person that does not enjoy those. The moment I closed my eyes I fell asleep and I woke up some hours later feeling a nudging on my shoulder. I slowly opened my eyes, not very grateful my so-precious nap had just got ruined.

"What the absolute fuck?" I groaned as I tried to look at my surroundings feeling a hand slipping my glasses on my nose bridge. I wear glasses. Not all the time, and I totally try to avoid them and also hide them. Very few are aware of their existence and I prefer it to stay that way. I wear them only when it is exclusively needed or when Brian is just so done with me bumping into things that he makes me put them on. The moment they were on my face I could see my surroundings. Next to me was Henry and I could faintly see Brian's shilloueto on the corner we keep the record player.