It's All So Beautiful *Roger Taylor Fanfic*

I Know What I'm Doing

*22nd of June 1978*

It got to the point where pretending to be okay wasn't cutting it anymore. I tried to brush off Rogers drinking problem, but the more I thought about it, the more worried and angry I got. I loved him and wanted the best for him but he didn't want my help, or anyone else's for that matter. I was going to do the only thing there was to do: force him to quit.

I rang my mother one morning when Roger was still in bed. I wanted her advice, seeing as I thought she might know. However, my father never had a drinking problem, and always drank in moderation so my mother's help wasn't useful. However, she gave me a great idea.

"Megan, love, why don't you and Roger come over here, me and dad'll mind the kids, and you and Roger can go on a little holiday, exploring the country and spending time together, talking things out and figuring out your feelings."

I paused for a minute. That was brilliant!

I told my mum I'd talk to Roger about it because I didn't know if he would be up to it. Their record wasn't nearly finished yet and I didn't think Roger would want to leave it. However, I would try and persuade him.

"Hey love," I said, opening our bedroom door. Roger was curled up in a ball on the bed, wearing only his underwear. I noticed he was shivering. I frowned as it was nearly 28 degrees in London. I shook him gently and his eyes shot open. He sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes.

"Morning, how are you?" I asked, opening our curtains to let the light in. He slowly got out of bed and put his clothes on. "I'm okay." He mumbled, leaving the room to go to the bathroom. I quickly ran to under the bed and saw he had a collection of empty bottles there. I sighed.

He came back in and sat down on the bed beside me. He pecked my lips and then smiled at me. "So how are you feeling today?" I asked, knowing he wouldn't be feeling great after all he had drank. "Mm, I'm not too bad, I suppose." He said.

"Listen," I started. "I don't want to have another argument, so just don't say anything for a few minutes, okay? Right, so your drinking has been putting a toll on our relationship and we both know that. But we can try and sort everything out because my mum invited me and you to come to Ireland to have a little holiday, just us, exploring the country and sorting out our problems. What do you think?"

Roger sat across from me and looked around, thinking, I assumed. "Yeah, that seems like a gre-"

Roger stopped mid sentence and put his hand over his mouth, jumping from the bed and into the bathroom. I quickly followed him in and saw he was wretching into the toilet. I helped him, pulling his hair out of his face and wiping his mouth when he was finished. "Are you okay?" I asked. He nodded and gave me a hug, wrapping his arms around me very delicately, because he was exhausted. I helped him up and brought him back into bed and kissed his forehead.

I knew it was the drink that had made him sick. When was it not?

As the day went on I cleaned the house, fed the children, checked on Roger and then eventually plopped on the couch, completely spent. I heard Rogers light footsteps coming down the stairs and I looked over at him. He was dressed in my pink dressing gown and I started laughing when I saw him. He smiled weakly at me. "I'm so cold, and this looked so warm. Is it alright?" He asked. I put my arms out to him and he lay with his head in my lap. "Of course it is." I said. He lay with his eyes closed as I rubbed his hair. "Oh about the holiday," he said, opening one eye. "I'd love to go. We'll go as soon as possible." "Thank you." I said, kissing his head. "And I won't drink anything. Because I need to quit. I don't ever want to be sick like that again Megan, that was horrible. Thanks for helping me." He said. "Its no problem. You're my husband, how could I not help? But I am worried about you. I'm not saying you have to stop but just, please, please, drink in moderation, drink carefully. Please for the kids, for you. For me." I knew he would agree if I said that.

He nodded his head, got off my lap, pulling me up. I giggled at him in my dressing gown. He pulled me close and kissed my lips. Then, he got on the couch again, lying down and pulled me on top of him, so that I was lying on his chest. I put my hand on his beating heart and closed my eyes. I hoped he would quit for himself. I hoped he would quit for us.