Classic Rock One-Shots

The Winner in the End (~ Roger Taylor)

The bedroom shyly lit up, with sunlight piercing the window as the morning showed up after its long nap. The white light made every single detail clearer to the eye, reflecting on the freshly repainted walls. The shadow of the massive wooden wardrobe looked less threatening, and almost became more comforting. It all felt like the prettiest spectacle of the early hours of the day.

On the bed, under this natural spotlight, an even more stunning sight offered itself to those who were lucky enough to witness it. Long honey-coloured layered strands were flowing like a silent river on the pillow, framing a pale face with sideburns that were sweet to the eye. One of the cheeks was buried in the locks, but its owner was not able to notice it, since his eyes were peacefully sleeping. A short nose overhung two slightly opened pink lips. Under them was a neck connected to a warm and bare chest, discreetly moving up and down as it breathed. An arm was resting across the stomach, showing a little belly button; softly stroking its ulna bone, the white bedcovers hid the long legs gracefully bent on the mattress. It only showed a hip and the whole right side of the body. The right arm was curled next to the head, and the palm was facing the ceiling, while the fingers were lazily bowed.

The whole scene made a pair of green eyes sparkle: with her dishevelled black hair falling on her shoulders and framing her cheekbones, Aria was contemplating the man she was fond of. She had been awake for almost an hour, and since she could not manage to get back to sleep, she got up and sat on the aged wooden floor. Her slightly pointy chin was comfortably settled between her curled knees.

This morning was uncommonly peaceful: not even a slight squeaky noise could be heard in the whole flat, and for once, the fridge did not make its awful creaking sound. The capital city was rather quiet outside, and the birds did not seem fully awake yet. The only sounds in the bedroom were Aria and Roger's soft breaths, which sounded like muttered lullabies.

Aria gently pressed her head against the wall and took a deep breath, unexpectedly feeling like she had not breathed for so long. The corner of her pink lips rose at the sight of Roger's head tilting twice as he frowned, certainly plunged into an intense dream. His slightly hoarse voice croaked before the room fell silent once again.

The young woman's green eyes never left Roger even for a second. She was hypnotised in a certain way, deeply wishing she could go to him and encircle him with her thin arms, pecking every spot of his skin she could reach. Unfortunately, she could not bother him while he was sleeping. Firstly because he looked like the purest angel that could ever exist; secondly because his work with the band was getting more and more intense and was heavily weighing on his nerves and physical energy. Aria could not stop him from making music, he was only starting and was enjoying every bit of it so far. How could she even deprive him of his passion?

In the middle of the general silence, a high-pitched voice rose from another room, calling Aria's name. It startled her, for she got used to this peaceful environment; however, she jumped on her feet and tiptoed to the room the voice sounded from, closing her bedroom door, careful not to wake her angel.

She quickly met the source of the noise. Her expressionless lips turned into a broad grin, as she picked up the child who previously was sleeping as well. Aria tenderly pressed Janine, her two-year-old daughter, against her chest, pecking her soft and chubby cheek. Just like her mother, the little girl had coal-black hair; unlike her mother, she had bright blue eyes and not green ones. Janine's blue eyes caused her to be often mistaken for Roger's child, but she was not, though Roger was a kind of father to her since Aria and him started a relationship. He only was not her biological one.

Janine rubbed her sleepy eyes with her tiny fists and looked at her mother. The latter smiled and tickled her nose with hers. “Time for breakfast, isn't it?” she whispered, to which the little girl nodded with a shy grin. Aria carried her out of the room, and when she stepped in the corridor, her whole face lit up. Roger was awkwardly standing under the doorframe, only wearing his fancy boxers, keeping his fingers wrapped around the doorhandle. His honey hair was all messy, and his right cheek had marks because of the locks he slept on; his drowsy big baby blue eyes were wandering all around him, as though they were looking for something. When they landed on Aria and Janine, his small mouth stretched into a loving smile.