Why would I forget ? | Roger Taylor

16- Out

27th July 1972

I was suddenly interrupted from the easy sleep I'd slipped into on my sofa by a loud knocking at the door. I sat upright and rubbed my eyes tiredly before yawning and stretching out my achey frame. Afternoon naps on the sofa didn't always benefit me- I was usually left with a pain in my back from crumpling myself up like a piece of used paper.

The door knocked again, signalling for me to answer it. The knock was one unfamiliar to me. I couldn't pin who was responsible for the loud tap on the old wood. I got up and opened it, and unexpectedly found Roger looking at me happily.

"You alright Rog ?" I asked, clouded with thoughts of the other night at the pub. Stage one.

"Yeah I just thought I'd come say thank you for the present." I smiled and looked down. Roger noticed how the small sentence made me feel and smirked.

"Did you wanna come in for a second ?" I offered, gesturing for the drummer to come in and take a seat on the couch. He stepped through the door in his tight jeans and unbuttoned shirt before taking a seat on the couch. I walked over to the kitchen and put the kettle on, allowing the bubbling water to fill the silence between us.

"Drum sticks and a packet of Marlboros- you really do know me Peps." I laughed a little. I'd given Roger a pair of new drum sticks with his name engraved on them, as well as a packet of cigarettes that weren't likely to last him very long for his birthday.

"We were best friends, of course I know you." My tone grew sadder as I remembered the friendship me and the drummer used to have- I missed it. Roger let out a deep sigh and started tapping little rhythms against his thigh to momentarily occupy the silence. I turned away from the kitchen counter and looked at him. He was looking down at his thigh, focused on the small beat he was tapping out. I smiled a little before his eyes found mine.

We held our stare for a little while, giving us enough time to recall every moment we'd shared. His expression was gentle for a change. On the rare occasion Roger wasn't being a smug player, it was hard to try and resist the voice in the mind telling me not to become the girl that wakes up in his bed tomorrow. Stage two.

The kettle behind me on the stove started to whistle, signalling me the water was ready to be poured. I was scared to loose the moment we were sharing as my mind replayed all those little memories we had- until the final memory hit me. Roger answering the door with the kisses from another girl planted across his face. Stage three.

I turned around and turned off the stove, allowing Roger to notice that I was thinking about that day. I faced the wall and shut my eyes in an attempt to drown out the images of Roger. It pissed me of how much they bothered me- he was my friend, not my boyfriend. I heard the drummer get up of off the couch and slowly making his way over to the kitchen, sending a sudden wave of nervousness through out my body.

"I'm sorry about the other night. I didn't think about how it would of made you feel I guess." His tone remained oddly gentle. I stayed fixed on the wall and poured myself a cup of tea, listening to Roger sigh with regret as I avoided answering him.

"You never think about other people Rog." I chuckled a little, earning a scoff from Roger. My annoyance towards him was starting to grow as his brows knitted in confusion.

"Hey... I do." He replied. I shook my head and laughed in disbelief which I noticed ticked off Rogers short temper. I wasn't shocked that Roger didn't think he was selfish. He thought of himself as some god most of the time.

"No you don't." I scoffed. "You're so selfish." I turned to face him, abandoning my half made cup of tea. I noticed immediately Roger was pissed off by the way he looked at me. There was almost a hint of disappointment in his eyes as we stood fixed on one another angrily.