No One But You

27. Lost Tooth

Madison

Due to popular demand, Paul Prenter decided it would be a brilliant idea to have Queen perform a couple of local concerts. Rog was less than thrilled with the idea. Not that he doesn't love playing, but he just doesn't love Paul or anything that he has to say. 

Any idea Paul comes up with, Roger shuts down. It seems to be causing a riff between him and Freddie. Not a big riff, but I notice it. Mary notices it too. Brian and Deaky however, are oblivious. I've asked if they've noticed the odd interactions between them but neither of them do. 

"Rog, it's going to be great," I try to tell my boyfriend as he angrily throws on a shirt. He just huffs in response. He's in a mood. I hate when he gets in these moods. 

"It's always what Paul wants. Bloody twat," Roger mutters. He walks out of our bedroom and I reluctantly follow him. 

"He's your manager," I point out. 

"For fucks sake, I know!" Roger snaps at me. When he sees my face drop at his reaction, he immediately softens. "Mads, I'm sorry," he quickly apologizes. 

I sigh, but don't say anything. Roger comes closer to me and puts both his hands on my waist, me putting my hands on the back of his neck. 

"You need to cool off sometimes," I tell him. I move his bangs out of his eyes so I can properly look into them. 

"Paul just gets me heated. I'm the only one who's this frustrated with him," 

"I get it. I don't particularly care for him either. But not everyone likes everyone," 

Roger huffs. "He's just so bloody annoying, Maddie. God, I just want to shove my foot down his throat," 

I giggle. "Please don't do that," 

Roger cracks a smile. "No promises," he tells me. He places a quick peck on my nose before we separate. 

"You are going right?" Roger calls from he kitchen when I return to the bedroom to put on an actual outfit. I'm still clad in a shirt of Rogers I wore to bed last night. 

"Of course," I call back. I dig through the drawers in my dresser and pull out my bell bottoms jeans and this yellow shirt to go with it. I'm not a huge fan of yellow, but Roger is for some reason. 

I step out of the bedroom after brushing through my hair and making sure I look decent. I didn't put on a lot of makeup because I didn't want to cover up the freckles that decided to appear on my face. 

"Are you ready?" I ask Roger. He stands in the kitchen, sipping out of a mug. He puts it down when he sees me, and he shifts awkwardly on his feet. 

"Can you help me with something?" he asks quietly. HE doesn't even sound like himself. He sounds gentle and like a child almost. 

"Sure, love," I say with a smile. 

He says nothing, but walks out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. He comes out not even a second later with my eyeliner pencil. He looks shy, but I know exactly where this is going. He doesn't even have to ask. 

I instruct him to sit on our couch in the living room. I lean in close to his face and rest my hand lightly on him, his touch warm compared to my cold hands. 

"Shut your eyes," I instruct. He does as so and I carefully line his eyes. I don't put on a lot, ut I put on enough to make them stand out. 

"That tickles," Roger says. 

I smile. "Open them. Now I need to do the water line so look up," I tell him. He follows my instructions again, but he's a lot less still than he was last time. He blinks nearly every time the pencil touches his eye, and his eyes are now watering which doesn't help the product stay on. But after a couple of minutes, I manage to get a decent amount of eyeliner on. I have him look at me head on and I smile at the finished look. "Perfect,"