30 reasons why - Roger Taylor

-REASON ONE-

 June 7th, 1979.

Roger loved the sight of Rosie when she woke up. He always did.

Her hair was so wild, regardless if she brushed it violently the night before—she always had the head of a lion. Messy and disheveled long, brown hair that would always wake up in his face almost every day. But it was so beautiful at the same time; he would be guilty if he said he has never run his hand through her hair when he woke up.

To be fair, Rosie was quite a beauty in the morning. Despite the constant murmurs of her telling him to stop staring at her, she was so beautiful.

From the moment she falls asleep to the second she wakes up, ready to start the day... Roger wished he had stayed much more often in the mornings because this was a sight worth seeing.

But he didn't. Always leaving a little too early in the morning for the daily pre-rehearsal breakfast with the band, he left her to wake up in an empty bed. You wouldn't believe the guilt that pooled at the bottom his chest—he regretted every time he left her alone in the first place.

And Rosie, she doesn't know the last time she woke up, and Roger was still next to her.

A lot of times, he would leave hours before rehearsal even started and left no note for her. Sometimes, Rosie had the thought that he was cheating on her, and she was never really sure but hoped that wasn't the case.

As she slept somewhat peacefully on the black bedsheets (which Roger didn't even know she changed), he watched as her chest raised and deflated slowly yet steadily. She just looked so pure, so good. He really didn't deserve her.

She felt a hand caress her cheek as she floated in and out of sleep, her eyelids fluttering open to the smile of Roger.

"You're so cute when you wake up. No. All the time."

"Yeah, yeah..." Rosie turned her body to face away from him, "don't bother me."

You see, cute. Roger found that cute, along with every little part of her. Her hair, her face, her smile—he was pretty lucky to find himself a girl like that. Only pretty unlucky by the fact she wanted to leave him.

"Should I make breakfast, ljubav (love in croatian)?"

She let out a mumble, burying her face into the pillow. Rosie certainly wasn't a morning person. Well, not much anymore.

It wasn't always like this.

Just months ago, she was fine having to wake up early. Most times, she and Roger would go and eat breakfast together before he left for rehearsal, but now, she wasn't used to his presence in bed during the mornings anymore. Her body seemed to have cherished the mattress more than Roger himself.

He tried again. "Rosie—"

"I don't know, Roger. Don't you have rehearsal today? Or some shit with the band?"

"Actually, I don't. Tour is over." He heard a grunt from her and sighed. There really wasn't any good reason to force her out of bed, so he just let her be. "I'll be out in the kitchen making breakfast. I'll make some for you if you want any."

Rosie murmured something along the lines of yeah, yeah, whatever as Roger left the bedroom, leaving her back to slumber.

He didn't really remember Rosie being this difficult to wake up to. Usually, she would wake up alongside him, and they would lounge around in bed together before starting their day.

And he will admit, he missed the Rosie that was full of life just last March. The one that used to wake him up in the mornings with a kiss to the nose, who used to eat breakfast at noon five days out of the week, and the one who went to Japan to support him despite not knowing a single word of Japanese. Ever since, he never really knew how or why she changed into someone so hostile, and how their relationship became this thing that could fall apart at any given moment.