Keep Yourself Alive - Roger Taylor

29

I woke up next to Roger, only in our underwear. Noticing his shirt that was lying on the floor, I pulled it on and left it unbuttoned.

Wearily, I walked into the kitchen where I got to work on breakfast. It is our first day back at home after all, so a celebratory breakfast is definitely in order.

I sauntered over to the open record player that laid on a stand, filled with hundreds of records. Flicking through the cardboard covers, I immediately stopped when I came across 'heroes' by the one and only David Bowie. He is by far one of my favourite artists, and although cliche, Heroes is up there with my favourite song.

I placed it on the player and lifted the needle onto the single, immediately hearing the beautiful singing voice of David Bowie.

"I, I wish you could swim"

I nodded along to the beat and went back over to the pans, dropping in some bacon and sausages which began sizzling simultaneously.

"Though nothing, nothing will keep us together" I sang quietly, although my terrible singing voice probably made Roger shiver in his sleep.

After pulling out plates from the cupboards, I began to chop some tomatoes to fry in the pans.

"I, I will be king" I heard a raspy voice sing from behind me.

Out of shock, my hand slipped and the knife sliced into my finger as I jumped.

"And you, you will be- oh shit" He sang, but quickly changed his tune when I turned around to show him the blood pouring from my finger.

"I thought that you might have heard me" He said, cringing at the blood.

I went over to the tap and ran it under the cold water, wincing like a wuss as the liquid hit the open cut.

"I'm sorry, do you need a doctor? Will it scar? I'm so sorry, love" He fretted about.

"Roger- Roger I'm Fine" I laughed, trying to interrupt him as he rushed around looking for a plaster or something.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

I pulled my finger out and it had stopped bleeding luckily, but he was still stressing about.

"You can help me out by grabbing me a plaster?" I asked, kissing his cheek.

"Of course, a plaster..." He said, looking around for a box.

"Cupboard above the sink" I rolled my eyes, I haven't even lived here for more than a week but could navigate around the flat better than him.

"Ah Yes, I knew that" he nodded, giving me a rather unconvincing grin.

"I bet you did" I mumbled under my breath.

He came over with a plaster and wrapped it around my cut, with so much care and precision that my heart fluttered at his cuteness.

"Now it's as good as new" He nodded.

"Good as new, is that what you'd call it?" I joked, wiggling my plaster covered finger in front of his face.

"Near enough, have you seen my hands?" He chuckled, showing me his calloused hands from the drumming. It was strange though as his skin felt so soft when I held his hand or if he even touched my skin.

"I never noticed that" I said, suddenly remembering the breakfast.

It was completely burnt, so we scrapped it and had some toast, which was also semi burnt.

I went back into our room and sat on the bed, getting out my scrapbook to add the photos from the tour.

There are so many beautiful pictures of us all, from Freddie with his extravagant outfits or chilled photographs of us all in the hotel rooms or in a club. I stuck them all in to the pages and decided to take a look back at the memories we had all made so far.

Right back at the start I had taken some pictures of smile on stage, and in some it wasn't even Freddie, it was Tim. Moving on there was pictures of us in Rogers van, then selling Rogers van, then using the money they made from Rogers van to buy the recording studio time. What a good bargain that was. This brought us up to now, 1975. With Ridge Farm Studios which created A Night At The Opera. What a ride it has been so far.

I heard Roger come in, and he jumped on the bed behind me, pulling the shirt down from my shoulders and kissing my neck.

"Look, Rog. This is when we first met" I smiled pulling my arm around his shoulders, finding the photo that I took a few weeks after we met when they played their first gig with Fred and Deacy.

"So it is" He smiled, taking the book from my hands and flipping through.

"This is great, Rose" He shook his head in amazement, flicking through the pages with nostalgia flowing through his veins.

"It really is" I breathed.

"Come 'ere" He said, tugging at his shirt that I was wearing towards him. He grabbed my baker hat from the bedside table and placed it on my head.

"Wait here" He nodded.

Rummaging around, he pulled out my Polaroid camera and pointed it at me.

"Kneel on the bed" He ordered and I did as he said.

He came over to me and draped the shirt over my shoulders again.

"Okay mr director, didn't know you were so into photography" I laughed, feeling rather embarrassed by the spontaneous photo shoot.

"You look beautiful, I have to capture it, love" He gave me a sweet smile.

He snapped a few photos, mainly of me laughing nervously, and shook them to let them develop. I took the camera from him and pulled him towards me, sitting on his lap and snapping some self photos of us both.

"How do you know you're pointing it at us?" He asked, confused.

"I can see it in the lens slightly, I've never taken self photos actually, it was Freddie that did it in the hotel room and they came out wonderful" I reminisced.

"Ah right, go on then" He said, kissing my cheek for a photo.

We took a few with different poses and they came out amazingly. This whole self photograph should be more of a trend. I stuck them into a separate page and glued some lace love hearts with it, decorating it to look more special.

Roger had gone in the shower so I decided that I'd get changed. When I'd only got my jeans on, the doorbell rang inconveniently. I quickly did up a few of the buttons on Rogers shirt, missing a few and making the two sides wonky as they met in the middle.

"Two seconds!" I shouted.

I rushed towards the door and popped my head over the small window. It was a very disheveled looking Mary, and she had definitely been crying. My stomach felt like it had dropped through the floor. She knows. She definitely knows.

I opened the door quickly and worriedly, but she just stood there in shock.

"He's gay"