More than just a friend || Roger Taylor

9- I wanna see you

12th March 1978

Tw- very minor mentions of abuse

Since the night I'd befriend Julian whilst me and him were both sat trying to drink away our worries away, it seemed I'd spent more time with him than I had Roger.

Roger had been busy, incredibly worked up by his upcoming tour and their managers desperation from some new material to be written so they could record when they were back. We'd spent most nights that we usually would together over the phone, leaving my mind curious to what was pulling at lips as my ears listened contently to the raspy yet gentle voice he spoke with.

I was starting to miss more than just his company. It was nice having him sat besides me most nights, but the real detail that made me want to see him again the following was his soft eyes and confident smirk. The features that had such prominence in his intriguing expression, yet ones that didn't resemble each other's impression. His soft eyes didn't pair with the harshly satisfying pull at the corner of his lips, and his tone didn't quite meet the scruffy blonde mop he wore.

I never thought being in his arms was something that was right, I always believed it was something bound to be wrong. And it wasn't until they fell empty of my frame that I suddenly felt desperate for them to sink back around me.

Though I knew he was a rockstar, one that would tour the world for months on end, I still wasn't fond of spending so many of my evenings without the blonde by my side. But I was yet to learn it was a feeling my body would become more than used to.

I'd still seen him, still slept with him on the few occasions he was free, but with all addictions came the withdrawal, the sudden need to satisfy the dependence you'd let the substance gain on you. And with withdrawal, came the undeniable need to have the substance back again, the wrongness of it coursing through you.

But that's why I ended up with Julian sat besides me with a glass in his hand rather than the blonde whose eyes I hadn't met for a few nights. Me and the hairdresser had spent several phone calls listening to one another, more often than not sober rather than five drinks deep at Charlie's.

"I can't stay too much longer doll, I've gotta help my bloody flatmate with her uni project. She's taken a fashion course and needs me to be her model for a couple of photos. Not that I mind, I practically volunteered myself." He laughed, sipping his drink as I nodded a little.

"I wanna see those pictures. My manager needs to meet you- you're one of those people that can pull off anything." I smirked, his cheeks turning a flushed red as the two of us laughed. We'd only had a few nights together, including the drunken one that meant us two meeting, but every time I was with Julian I found myself laughing loudly and smiling genuine smiles. But I think he spent most of the time we shared still trying to process the fact I'd even spoken to him.

"Oh shush you. You're always chatting such shit !"

"How dare you !" I laughed, nudging him playfully as his eyes wrinkled above his bright smile.

"You should meet my flatmate one day actually, Summer, she's nice. A little bit like you in a way. But she's so bloody focused on her uni work she can't even remember to eat anymore ! It's crazy." I nodded a little, curious as he described his flatmate with a clear admiration for her. Julian always seemed to talk highly of anyone, even if he wasn't particularly fond of someone he was always able to pic out the positive they had. He simply just looked for the good in people, which was something clear in his personality.

"You should invite me round for dinner some day I reckon. I could always be a model for her if she wanted..." his eyes widened, a gasp slipping from his lips before he nodded frantically.