the drummer boy ❦ Roger Taylor

13

I woke up the next morning to complete silence. Rogers arms were still wrapped securely around me, his body still on top of the blanket. My head was pounding, and I felt pretty ropy. I glanced to Mary's clock, seeing that it was quarter past eight. I had missed college.

There was a sound that came from the kitchen, a small clutter and a 'shit'. Folding the blanket over me carefully, to ensure that I don't wake Roger, I tip toed out of the room and into the kitchen, not before pulling on my dungarees. Inside was John, who had dropped some plates and a cup, who stood holding his head weakly.

"What happened in here?" I asked him, causing him to jump out of his skin. Clutching his heart and leaning against the counters, he breathed heavily.

"Jesus Christ, Julia. I think I shit myself." He exclaimed. I stifled a laugh, the sight of a grown man supporting his hungover self with his weight being really funny to me. "I was trying to get a glass of water. My head hurts and I can't see straight." He whined.

I sighed and picked up the fallen crockery, then poured John some water. He took it from me, practically snatching it, and took big gulps.

"That's better. Cheers." John said, putting his thumbs up to me. His expression then turned to a cheeky one, "Soooooo. You and Roger, eh?" He mocked, nudging me.

"We're just friends." I shrugged. It wasn't a lie; after last night, Roger would never be able to like me. I made a fool of myself. John didn't look convinced.

"Oh come on. I saw the way that you look at each other. And how about yesterday when we first met, and he got all protective and defensive when I called you a looker." He pointed out. I guess he was right, but that didn't change the fact that last night was a thing.

"Honestly? I really like Roger. He's kind, and so so funny. He doesn't take himself too seriously, and is the most beautiful person I've ever seen." I rambled dreamily. "But my dad was kind, funny. And he's a complete prick." I spat, unloading information on John, who stood looking quite confused.

"Ok, I don't know how your dad got bought into this conversation, but elaborate?" He said, sitting at the dining room table, motioning for me to join him.

"I caught my dad cheating on my mum. Twice." I began, in disbelief that I was revealing some of my problems on a man I had met yesterday. "I confronted him about it the second time, and he told me that if I told my mum, then I'd be ruining the family. He went on for hours about how she wouldn't believe me, how she'd kick me out. Even now, no body knows. Other than you and I, I suppose. My point is that you can come across as the perfect man; you can provide for your family, do all the things expected of you, put on a front. But that doesn't mean that you're actually a good person." I angrily concluded. John didn't say anything for a moment. He then leaned forward,

"Your dad is a wanker. A Grade A piece of shit," John said, "but that doesn't mean that Roger is the same. I understand that it's difficult to trust after only having male role models like that, but you should give it ago with Roger. You never know, he might surprise you."

I didn't reply, and spent a minute going over the past conversation in my brain. John was right. Roger is a good person, he hasn't shown me anything otherwise. I want to know more about him. I can't let my dads actions ruin my life.

"Thanks for that, John." I said genuinely, giving him a light hug. He hugged back, but then quickly pulled away.

"Gonna be sick." He said, well, kind of said. His hand was grasped over his mouth, and he ran quickly to the bathroom. As John excited, Roger entered, watching John in amusement.

"What's his problem?" Roger asked, flicking the kettle on.

"Hangover."

"Say no more." He smirked, lighting up a cig. I took one from him when he offered, and we sat facing one another on the table. "So."

"So." I repeated, tapping ash in the ashtray.

"Are you ok?" He asked quietly, eyes concerned.

"I'm ok, Roger, honestly. I think-I think I just...remember what happened with that man?" He nodded solemnly, his jaw clenching, "Well, the last time I was in a scenario like last night was then, and I guess-I guess it just hit me." I shrugged. Roger reached his hand out and clasped mine in his, bringing it up to his mouth and kissing it gently.

"Julia, I swear to you that I'll help you get through this. I'll be there every step of the way. And if I ever see that son of a bitch again, I'll kill him. I will protect you." Roger said venomously, eyes full of anger at the mention of him. A tear fell from my eye, through both sadness and happiness (and because Roger said that he'd protect me) and I brushed it away.

As I was about to say something, John came back in to the room, looking as pale as a sheet.

"I'm going to die." He groaned miserably, his head banging against the fridge door. Roger and I shared a confused look.

"Why?" Roger asked amused.

"Why? WHY? Well for starters, I feel like a woodpecker is pecking at my brain. I've thrown up my entire stomach content, and now I've just witnessed Freddie and Mary banging. If I didn't feel sick, I definitely do now." He exclaimed, gagging at the end of his sentence. Roger and I burst out laughing, and as Brian came in, he laughed along.

"I don't know why I'm laughing." He said between splutters.

"John saw them fucking." Roger filled him in, motioning to the room above us. Brian pulled a face,

"Get in there, Fred!" He shouted up, and we got a loud bang on the floor in response.

"Those horny devils."

-

Hey! I hope you're enjoying the story.

If anyone has any suggestions or feedback I'd be really grateful :)