Anything For Love[Roger Taylor fan fiction]

11 In The Morning

The sun was shining through the windows, eventually being the main factor that woke you up. 

Your eyes squinted open to take around your familiar surroundings. 

The tall closet. The dresser and table with clutter all over them. A pile of clothes on the ground. Your nightstand with a few more objects than it should technically fit. 

It felt so early yet it wasn't. 

Your body was still asleep but your mind was starting to wake up. 

You looked at the blaring red clock that read 10:34. God, it was so late, luckily it was Saturday so you didn't have to go to work. 

You had to work long and hard the past few days to try and get a raise from your boss since the medical fees were so expensive, you should've previously invested in some medical insurance. You would still pay money but at least they would cover all Roger's things. 

The band was rock bottom broke as well and without Roger, they couldn't record any of the drums on the tracks which would delay the new album which is supposed to "make all the money in the world" said Freddie. 

He was confident with his new song. 

The activities the night before had really kept you awake. 

You lit the candle and put it on Rogers's writing desk across the room after swiping away the crap built upon it. 

You closed the blinds and turned off the lights. 

You put a towel under you on the bed and pulled off your pants. 

You felt lonely and your body needed something, anything. You hadn't remembered the last time you jerked off. You thought about it and started sobbing. 

The thought of being so alone most of the day. Roger not being next to you to fulfill your need of lust. Him not being there to comfort you. To share jokes with. To make food for. To help him with a stubborn lyric he had in his mind that he just couldn't put on paper.

You missed him and you hoped he missed you. 

You were wondering what he was doing there in the hospital at the moment. Sitting there, laying there, eating, starring at the ceiling, crying even maybe?

Your sobbing went on till at least 1 in the morning. 

You snuffed out the corner with nothing but your fingers. Your sister taught you how to do it and you always felt "cool" doing it.

You slipped out of bed as more minutes ticked away as you still tried to "wake up". 

It was finally 10:41 when you actually got out of bed.

You walked into the living room and popped some bread into the toaster. You always preferred sourdough but today you were out so you had to eat wheat. Yuck.

You cracked an egg on a frying pan and watched it sizzle as you stirred it around, starting to scramble it. 

The toast popped up, a little burnt but never the less you plopped it on your so far empty blue plate. 

You set a jar of jelly next to the plate that you placed at a placemat on the island. Maybe some local olallieberry jelly would help hide that disgusting burnt wheat taste. 

You brought the cooked eggs in the pan once they were nice and cooked over and slid them onto the plate. They were strange dry chunks with some salt and a nice coating of salsa. 

Whenever you ate eggs you remembered how your grandma Barbara cooked them. You stayed with her every Friday and would often stay the night especially when times were tough back at home with your parents filing a divorce.

She would make the wet and gloppy. Once you were old enough to understand what you liked and didn't like, you made your mind heard and she still could never get them dry enough. You eventually just didn't ask for eggs.

You grabbed a glass cup from a cupboard and filled it with orange juice. 

And just like that, you had the same bland and boring breakfast you had almost every weekend morning. 

On special occasions, you would have homemade crepes which were your favorite. Ham and gouda for a savor one or strawberries and cream for a more sweet version. You yerned for that taste right now.

You spread the jam over the crispy toast and crunched into it. You tuned over the radio until you found a morning talk show. You pushed around your eggs as you were gently crunching on a bite of toast, unconsciously about to swallow it.

The phone in the living room startled you as it rang. You dropped your forkful of eggs and stood up still into your pajama shorts and satin tank top. 

"Hello?" you asked as you picked up the phone. The cold plastic touched your face and shocked you. You continued to hold it from a distance. 

"An inmate from the London County Prison is trying to connect you. Please press one to connect." A robotic and monotone women's voice said.

Who the fuck is calling you at 11 in the morning from a prison? Was it that son of a bitch doctor? No, he didn't have his trial till next week. 

You pressed one. 

"Uhm hello?" You instantly said as the dial tone ended as it connected you to the person who called you. 

"oh, Y/N thank God you picked up."

"Who the fuck is this?" The voice sounded so familiar yet with the noise in the background and the static connection, you couldn't put your name on who it was.

"It's your friend Savi. I think I did something bad."