Sleepless In London (Maylor)

Is That All I Am To You?

~A Year and a Half Later~

"Roger, I need to talk to you about something." Clare said, shuffling her feet a bit. "I know you tend to overreact to things like this, so sit down okay?"

"Oh my god, are you pregnant?" Rogers eyes widened. "Oh shit, you are, aren't you? Oh god, okay. I'm fine." He paced the room, pulling at his hair a bit. "I'm gonna throw up..."

"Roger! No, I'm not pregnant, you twit!" She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Calm down, Roggie."

"How the hell am I going to be calm when you come up to me acting so bloody guilty?" Roger frowned, sitting down at taking a deep breath. "Alright, fine. I'm fine."

"God, you're such a drama queen." Clare rolled her eyes.

"I'm sensitive!" Roger pouted.

"Anyway, what I was trying to say before your weird little meltdown. So, Matt and I have been talking and we've been together for four years now... I'm moving in with him, Roggie. Well, he's moving in here." Clare said, looking down at her lap and nervously pulling at a thread on her skirt.

"That's... That's great, Clare." Roger smiled softly at his little sister, getting up and hugging the small girl.

"You're not mad? I thought you'd be mad." Clare mumbled into the hug.

"Clare, you're an adult. You're nearly twenty-two. I can't tell you what to do." Roger shrugged. "And I like Matt. He's a good guy. I'll kick his ass if he hurts you, but I like him. Plus, another roommate will help with rent."

"He's moving in next week. You won't be weird about it? Do you promise?"

"I swear on my life."
_______________________
Two Weeks Later

Roger was woken up for the fifth time that week by the sounds of the bed squeaking. Normally, he would just shove his face into a pillow with earplugs in and sing Beatles songs to himself until he knew it was over, but this was the last straw.

Roger got out of bed, hair an absolute mess and quickly put on a pair of pajama pants and shoving his feet into his beloved pink converse. He grabbed his keys and walked out the door, slamming it loudly out of pure annoyance.

"Why the hell are you slamming doors at 2:30 am, Taylor?!" The old man next door yelled.

"Oh, fuck off, Bill." Roger grumbled back, ignoring his wife's gasp and complaints about the disrespectful mannerisms of today's youth.

He got in his car quickly, turning the music up as high as his ears could take and sped over to Brian, Freddie, and Johns flat. Parking his car quickly and getting out with a pat to her hood, he quickly stumbled up the steps, tripping a few times before knocking frantically at the door.

"Some of us are trying to sleep!" Their neighbor shouted through the door.

Roger rolled his eyes and continued knocking until an extremely disheveled Brian answered the door.

"Roger? Are you okay? It's like three in the morning?" He frowned, using his hand to stifle a yawn.

Roger pushed past him, walking into the flat. He shook his head as he began pacing the room.

"Rog, what's wrong?" Brian frowned, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop his pacing. His concern deepened when he noticed the bags under his wide eyes and the upset look on his face.

"I can't take it anymore. They have sex every night. They never stop. They, they never stop, Brian! It's constant! The walls are so thin!" He was hysterical, pulling at his hair. "I tried to ignore it, but it's just-" he shuddered. "That's my little sister and I just, oh god, I can't take it anymore!"