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the-girl-from-number-4-blog · 5 years

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My Very First Mistake (III)

Roger Taylor x Reader

On the subject of coping

Word Count: 2,113

(this one feels short? it’s not the entire chapter as i planned it, but it’s been too long and i thought you guys deserved something :) let me know what you think!)

part one

part two

Roger looked at himself in his bathroom mirror. He didn’t like what he saw; he saw guilt, and he saw lies. It wore at his eyes and brought to them a tired and leaden gaze. As he stared at himself, he resolved to wash away these feelings, no matter the consequences.

He lathered soap onto a cloth and told himself, “Hey, Brian. Look . . . this is hard to say, but I think you need to know. Recently, I’ve had – recently, I’ve developed – I started to – God, this is hopeless.”

Quickly washing his face, he looked back up. “Bri. I need to say this. For about a month, I’ve had some feelings for . . .”

But something stopped him from being able to actually say the words; he never usually had a filter, but then again, he never usually had anything so important to say.

He knew what it was. What stopped him from being able to voice it, even in the privacy of his own bathroom, was the fear of Brian’s response. He knew that this would cause a sizeable rift, and the best possible scenario would end up shifting the dynamic of the entire band. The worst possible scenario would end up without a band at all.

Queen was built on Roger and Brian; it wouldn’t have come about if the two of them hadn’t been bandmates in Smile, or if they hadn’t been friends even before that. If the backbone of the group was compromised, if their bonds were broken, their entire band would fall apart.

He reached a moral dilemma. The ‘right’ thing would be to tell Brian about his feelings – he deserved to know, especially since, try as he might, Roger just can’t shake them. But wouldn’t that also be selfish? By telling Brian, by ridding his conscience, Roger would be jeopardizing the entire band. He knew each of them lived for this, and if it fell apart, he may ruin their music careers.

“Brian, I’ve got to get this off my chest. But please, promise me, no matter what I tell you, you won’t let it –”

Let it what? He had to be careful not to imply any blame lay on Brian; it really was all Roger’s fault and saying otherwise might elicit an even worse reaction.

He resolved to just tell him the truth, as it came to him in the moment, instead of memorizing lines. He needed, for his sake, to be as genuine as possible.

He arrived unannounced at Brian’s place. He wasn’t sure if he could ask for an invitation with a perfectly clear tone, and he didn’t want to alert Brian to anything out of the ordinary, so he just hoped that he would be in. Considering everything, being rude now hardly mattered.

It was midmorning on a Sunday, and he hadn’t seen Brian for quite a few days, since John went back home to visit his parents for a while. Without the bassist, the band couldn’t record or edit songs, so everybody was doing individual writing stuff for a while.

Roger knocked sharply three times and waited. He expected Brian to answer the door, as he usually does, but instead, he got a quiet, somewhat strained, “Come in.”

Eyebrow cocked in confusion, Roger twisted the unlocked door handle and let it swing forward. When he peered into the room, he saw the light of Brian’s television flicker, and the light from the kitchen flood into the otherwise dark living room. “Bri?”

“Hey,” came the response from the couch. Roger reached over to flick on a lamp, and saw his friend sprawled across his couch, eyes closed tightly. He looked rather worse for wear.

“You sick, mate?” Roger said, and he was proud of himself for sounding perfectly normal.

Perhaps today wasn’t the best day to break that unsettling news to him.

“No, not exactly.”

Was it just him, or did Brian sound even more melancholy than usual? “Then, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been trying to write,” he said, waving an arm at the scattered sheets of paper in disarray on the floor, which Roger hadn’t noticed until now, “but I just can’t. It’s all shit.”

“We all have bad days,” Roger tried to console him.

“Not just that.”

“Then what is it?” Brian always was a drama queen, just as each of them were, but Roger wasn’t exactly in the dramatic mood.

Brian sat up slowly, shifting grumpily on the couch until he was leaning forward to look Roger in the eye. Roger saw now just how bloodshot his eyes were.

“It’s Y/N,” he said, after a long and terse pause. His voice was uncharacteristically vulnerable. “She broke up with me. I’ve lost her, Rog.”

Yep, there’s definitely no telling him now.

A part of Roger was relieved that you and Brian were no longer dating. Of course, this was the part of him not completely devoted to Queen and its members; it was the primal part that took groupies up to his hotel for the night or drank shots until he passed out.

The part of him that would die for anyone in the band knew that he shouldn’t be happy. He shouldn’t rejoice in Brian’s misery, and because that part was the dominant in his mind, he was miserable himself.

The band had convened once John got back home, but it was a largely unproductive meeting; Brian couldn’t play worth shit and John was exhausted from dealing with his family for an entire week. Without a solid bassline, Roger couldn’t play properly, either, so the decision was unanimous to take a little while away to get sorted.

Roger was relieved for the opportunity to consider his thoughts and come up with an acceptable solution to the entire predicament, because this was the sort of decision where he stood on the precipice of danger and safety, and the wrong step, the wrong breath, could thrust him tumbling into oblivion.

None of them had seen you since you broke up with Brian. You hadn’t dropped by the studio or called to let them know how you were doing, and Roger, for his part, was increasingly worried, which further added to the complexity of the predicament.

He knew that he couldn’t make his move now, even though you were most definitely single. If he did, he would be a rebound, which would never settle for. If he was going to be with you, it would be in a more permanent, more passionate capacity.

And besides, he had too much respect and love for Brian to take his place so soon, before his metaphorical bed was cold, so to speak.

He couldn’t help but wonder, however, how you were. Why did you break up with Brian in the first place, and how were you taking it? As far as he could tell, there had been no major argument between the two of you. Besides that, he had been too busy ignoring you recently to really notice anything out of the ordinary.

This was just one torrential mess.

Roger’s mental turmoil persisted for the better part of a month, while you were busy trying to move on with your life.

After your breakup, you did cry, even though it was your choice. You were still saying goodbye to someone for whom you cared deeply. Brian was your first love, and though you had fallen out of that love, you couldn’t really stop loving him. You missed him.

And you missed the others, too. You’d hear their music on the radio, and you could remember being in the studio when Freddie sang those lines, or John had that solo, or Roger made that gripe about the song being too slow.

Surprisingly to you, it was Roger you missed the most, not Brian. For reasons you couldn’t quite explain (and didn’t let yourself dwell on), though you never felt particularly close to the drummer, you still remembered him fondly. You remembered his infectious grin and charming laugh, and though you never became good friends with him, you felt that you could have, if you allowed yourself to.

But you really wanted to move on. You needed to get away from your old life, which revolved largely around Brian; to get away from Brian, you needed to get away from Queen.

You immersed yourself in your work. It became a dedication, and your superiors soon noticed, and you were in line for a promotion before you knew it. You never realized just how much your social life had prevented you from excelling in your career. It felt so horribly boring.

You couldn’t sit around your flat anymore; you hadn’t gone out over the weekend since you were with Brian, and you would drive yourself mad if you didn’t get out sometime soon. So, you leaned over to your coffee table and picked up the phone, dialing a very familiar number, and waiting for the answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Fred? It’s Y/N.”

There was a light chuckle. “Who? I’m sorry, I meet so many people these days, if I don’t see you often enough then I’ll forget you.”

You breathed out a laugh. “Okay, I get it. Yeah, I’ve been focusing on work for a while. But, hey, are you guys gonna be in the studio today?”

“No,” he said, “we wrapped on ‘Brighton Rock’ yesterday, so we’re taking a few days off. We’ll be ‘round my flat later, though, if you want to stop by.”

You did, really, but something occurred to you. If you saw them, then you’d see Brian, and you didn’t know if you were ready for that. “…Who all will be there?”

“Brian’s out of town,” Fred said, cutting to the chase. He always did have a way of knowing exactly what you meant, no matter how roundabout you were in saying it. “So it’s safe, you coward.”

You know he didn’t mean it maliciously, but it still hurt. “I’ve been pretty bored lately,” you said, ignoring his jab, “so you’ll see me there.”

“We’d better,” he replied. “It’s really not the same without you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Yes, it’s the same here. You annoy me slightly less now that I don’t see you so often.”

He clicked his tongue at you. “Come on, dear, you know you can’t resist my charm.”

The two of you chatted back and forth in much the same playful manner. Just talking to him made you smile again, which you realized you hadn’t done much of for the past few weeks.

Eventually, the two of you got onto the topic of Roger, which was a natural course of events; you’d just exhausted every joke in the book about Deaky’s song ‘Misfire’, and since you didn’t exactly want to discuss Brian, he was the obvious recourse.

“He’s asked about you a couple of times, by the way,” Freddie said. “Seemed to think that you’d been calling me or John, which I may add, you very well should have. But he did seem quite worried.”

“That’s sweet of him,” you said absently. You weren’t really sure what to think of it, so you simply don’t.

“It gets you thinking, doesn’t it,” he began, giving you plenty of time to interject, “why he cares so much. Because, of course, you were never particularly close.”

You didn’t like where this was going; he was making you face your problems, which was never your preferred method of coping. “Eh, he’s probably just being polite, you know.”

“That’s never too high on his list of priorities, Y/N.”

You sighed. “All right, Fred, what are you insinuating? Brian and I just got out of a relationship that lasted years. What do you expect me to do, jump on the next man who so much as thinks about me?”

You could just see the defensive look on his face. “Well, it’s been a month. You’ve got to move on sometime, you know. Brian has.”

That gave you pause. “Excuse me? He what?”

“He’s been hanging ‘round with this girl, Chrissie, lately,” Freddie supplied smugly. “Probably a rebound, you know, but at least he’s trying. In fact, that’s why he won’t show tonight; he’s off on a hot date.”

You shake your head, tucking that bit of information away to contemplate and understand later, so you don’t waste vulnerable time doing it now; Freddie has a way of finding any weak spot, any slow point in the conversation, to pounce. “Well, I’m glad. I want him to be happy.”

Managing to steer the conversation back in a safe direction after that, you eagerly anticipated reuniting with your friends again.

@rogermeddowstayl0r @16wiishes @whenthe-smokeisinyoureyes @secretsweetscollectionblog @musicprincesslikestorock @justgivemethekeys @rogers-rhapsody

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u-wll-rmmbr-me-fr-centuries · 7 years

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Some thoughts on the Terror attack. Considering everything London has been through, I think it can withstand some twat with a knife.

Also turns out I bought 4 books this week. #Productive.

Monday

Today has been a good day. I have the car. It’s called Elvis. Named after the CD that was left in there, but I think it’s a pretty cool name for a pretty cool car. The gear stick looks a little bit like a Pokemon ball, and there’s a sunroof. It’s pretty face and good for a first car, I have to admit.

I also bought 3 books from the charity shop. I couldn’t decide between the three, and they were all cheap so I thought why not? They’re also contemporary which I don’t normally read, so they will be interesting. Two are about memories and the other one is about a girl with Cerebral palsy, where she can’t move or speak. Because of this people confide secrets to her and one in particular – Dan. I feel as if this is going to be very emotional and most likely a secret of a murder. But that’s just my brain, it could be something completely different.

I Have No Secrets – Penny Joelson

The Only Memory of Flora Banks

The Memory Book

Tuesday

Today has been rather uneventful. Which sucks for a weekly review thing. Other than spending the whole four hours of my break reading a book that isn’t even out yet, nothing happened. The story of how I got a book that isn’t even out yet is rather funny. And told above in Monday. It was actually pretty good for a contemporary, and definitely a book that you could have conversations about at midnight. And I ended up finishing it within 3 hours, meaning I had a whole hour to do nothing. So that was fun! Not.

Wednesday

This was mostly going to be about the trip to Brighton. However, I think the attack at London is the most important. Especially when there will be a blog post about Brighton up at some point this week – hopefully Friday.

It’s strange seeing videos of the attack. Seeing such a prominent and famous building, yet there’s a weird horrific scene going on. All of the eyes in the world turned to London and waited for her to respond. But she didn’t fall or cower. In fact, she stood up taller. She withstood the Blitz, attacks from the IRA, Great Fire, Black Plague- she would be fine.

I can’t express my gratitude for the work of the police force, ambulance force, just everyone who got involved. The way it has been handled and so quickly shows. It cannot be faulted. On Twitter I saw many americans saying that Theresa May took too long in her response, but as a Brit I can say that they’re wrong. She waited in order for more evidence to come through and for a plan to be established. As it is supposed to be an important speech to give the Londoners a sense of hope and justice, I don’t suspect she could just write a speech within 10 minutes. There were many unnecessary comments from Trump supporters especially, but it was quite apparent it wasn’t all Americans. It’s just annoying that they then become ‘tarnished’ because of those orange supporting idiots.

Thursday

Today I noticed a lot of flags half-mast. Ones in little villages in people’s backyards and the one that was most heartbreaking: the flag in front of the country police station. I think it’s most painful knowing that they have lost a brother. They might not have met him but they are all feeling pain, knowing that each day they are going out to do their job and might not return.

And only now have I realised that all day I haven’t had any anxiety. After Paris and Brussels, I couldn’t get on a bus without having immense amount of paranoia. Even at College I was scared, and looking back it’s silly, but it was a real fear. Just getting myself a cup of water in my own home and standing in front of a window. Doing the most mundane and daily things caused me to be scared. Yet, now that there’s been attack on my own home land, I don’t feel any kind of anxiety at all. No fear, no panics, not trying to figure out where my closest exits are at all times. I think it’s because it was shown how well it’s been dealt with, in terms of police and ambulance, just every service available has really been amazing and responded so well. I know I am safe.

Friday

I’m sick of my family making comments about me driving. I’ve had four lessons, I struggle with anxiety and they knew that driving would be a daunting task for me. Yet all they do is laugh. It’s not funny. It actually makes me feel like shit. They knew it would be hard for me. Today I’m just angry and tired and dealing with that monthly girl problem.

Started reading, The One Memory of Flora Banks, and can easily say I’ve never read anything like it before.

Considering all events this week, it turns out that the attacker on the Parliament attack had stayed in a hotel in Brighton. What’s worse is that on Wednesday I was in Brighton and had actually gone past that hotel. I remember the sign. It’s scary thinking that I could’ve easily passed him and the car. It’s weird. I don’t remember seeing any car or person, I just remember the sign logo and the building. Funnily enough I didn’t think it would have been important enough to then taken in every detail.

Comic Relief thing, was on TV today. It’s usually this massive British event where celebrities and comedians do a live show that lasts like 8 hours and includes all kind of different guests doing stupid things for charity. I usually love these events but it was the worse one ever. I’m not sure whether it’s because I’m older or it was pure shite. Pretty sure it was the last one as normally I stay up and watch the whole thing. On a whole I enjoyed like 5 minutes of it. One of the good parts was that they got Ed Sheeran, which shouldn’t be a surprise because despite being one of the most popular artists in the world, he is the nicest guy. He went out to where there was starvation and all that trouble, and paid for 5 boys to be safe out in the city. He didn’t care how much, he just wanted to know that they will be somewhat safer than they already were. And if you look at the whole spectrum of celebrities that have been out there to raise awareness, how many have actually contributed? Apart from letting the charity use their face and name? That might be harsh and critical of celebrities, but this years total (so far) is…

£71,308,475

Saturday

Today I spent the day packing my books into boxes in order so we can move rooms. It took 5 massive cardboard boxes, all strategically packed to fit all my books. And that’s not including 6 or 7 books that I will need (once I finish this book, also college books yada yada…).

I also spent some time writing some upcoming blog posts as well as trying to think of some new ideas. I changed the sidebar to currently reading because I can. As us girls (three of us) will be moving into the bigger room, the parents had to then box up the boy’s room and Mum got close very close to losing it. Mostly because the 19-year-old was the messiest, yet blames it on the younger one.

Sunday

Mothers Day! I spent two hours DIYing Mum a last-minute card, and making the inside to be one of those cringey messages that’s made out of Take That song titles. Then I had seconds to get ready to go out to a lunch that had been reserved for us.

It wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t the best. Starters of Garlic bread was good, but then again it’s hard to majorly fuck that up. For mains I had this chicken thing with sun-dried tomatoes on top and this sauce thing and then all wrapped in bacon. The problem was that chicken can be quite dry especially if it’s just a massive breast with nothing else. And then if you wrap that in bacon it’s even more so dry. There wasn’t any sauce and I had no idea what to ask for. Even worse I had a cider and it wasn’t fizzy. I’m not a big alcoholic drinker, I just like cider because it’s practically fizzy apple juice. And this didn’t taste fizzy. Or appley. Desert was the best. Chocolate cake. Nothing else I can say about it really.

We then took Elvis for his first ever car wash. £6 for a tiny car – can’t complain in my opinion. It was quite cool as he has 2 sunroofs and so we just all looked up and watched the bubble mixture slide on the glass.

And finally, to finish off the week we went to the shops and got stuff. (Wow, quality blog post information detailing.) Obviously I went to the book section and got Me Before You by JoJo Moyes. The lady at the counter told me a hundred times that it was a “tear-jerker” and I’m so glad she told me because I had no idea at all. It’s not as if everyone talked about it for three years straight and how it ruined their lives. Even one of the marketing campaigns on BookTube was sending that book and tissues.

20-26th March: London Terror Attack & Elvis Some thoughts on the Terror attack. Considering everything London has been through, I think it can withstand some twat with a knife.

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