𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 | roger taylor

XXII

 Every morning would start the same.

Tangled sheets, prying white sun, head burrowed in pillows, breathing in hot air. I'd wake thinking I was alone, back home in my bed. I'd stretch out, and my arms would come in contact with something else- somebody else. I'd startle a little, before peeling my eyes open and seeing the familiar relief of the blonde head beside me. If I was lucky, he'd be facing me already, and I could study his gentle face as he slept. Sometimes I'd catch him in a dream, and notice how his eyelids would flutter and his eyebrows would furrow. Or he'd be awake already, eyes fully open, revealing the sheer blue of his irises. Those were the best mornings. He'd wrap his arms around my waist and pull me into his chest, holding me so that I could hear his heartbeat beneath his skin. The steady thrum was enough to lull me into another dream filled sleep.

I understood what it meant- falling head over heels for somebody. I was fully on my knees, now, having taken a nasty fall for him. I knew it would come and haunt me later, but for now, I savored it. I let my vision blur, let my heart beat as fast it dared, welcomed the sharp pains in my stomach that came when he looked at me from beneath his lashes.

We'd managed to keep our relationship silent for quite a while- weeks went by until January bled into February, and finally we decided it was time. There was no real reason to keep it a secret for so long, but we'd fun while it'd lasted. Sneaking off together, touching and kissing feverishly in any private space we dared to, hands snaking up skirts and lingering touches on bare skin. He knew exactly what got me going, and he'd use it to his advantage. Out at dinner with the boys, his hand moving along my thigh under the tablecloth. The way he'd watch me squirm, his mind- and mine- alive with thoughts of me, thoughts of us.

It was fun, but it was time. Besides, if we let it go on any longer, Brian would be out of pocket.

The band itself had gone through major changes since the dawn of the new year. It seemed that 1973 was going to be a big year for Queen, considering all they'd accomplished so far. The recording of their debut album had commenced, and the boys spent all of their free hours in the recording studio, perfecting each song and sound. The ten songs included were mostly finished, and now they were merely adding finishing touches like the perfectionists they were. The studio company itself adored Queen and their music, but the tricky part would be finding a record company to release it. All we could do was keep fingers crossed, keep the performances coming, and spread the word. We all had a feeling, though, that something incredible would be born from this.

They were working on bits of Liar when I entered the studio, purse on my shoulder and cheeks rosy from the biting cold outside. I tossed my purse on one of the beat up couches in the control room overlooking the sound booth, making myself comfortable as I watched them. Lost in their own little world, each with a specific passion and dedication written on their features. A few minutes passed before Roger spotted me, face pulling into a grin. Butterflies were set loose in my stomach at the sight- his easy smile, broadening for me. I beamed back, eyes round with anticipation Roger could sense. He nodded at me. He'd been waiting for this moment- the moment to unleash everything on his bandmates. Mostly, we just wanted to see the horror on Brian's face.

They finished up the current piece they were working on, which ended their session for the day. Brian, Freddie, and John continued to fool around however, messing with their instruments, while Roger joined me.

"Hello, love," he said quietly, sliding next to me on the couch and placing a kiss to my cheekbone. "Missed you."

I smiled, combing a hand lovingly through his blonde curls. His eyes closed from my touch, almost nuzzling into my hand like a cat.

"We don't have to tell them, you know," Roger added in a low voice, continuing with a conversation we'd had earlier that day. "We can always show them." With that, he buried his face in my neck, planting hot kisses along my skin in the way he knew I liked.