More than just a friend || Roger Taylor

18- every unmatched piece of him

28th May 1978

"Miss. Petrov... over here please !" A voice yelled, his head poking to the left of the camera in his hands as I smiled in his direction.

"Can we get your hands behind you back... yeah like that so we can see the dress." A women yelled, clicking her fingers at me as I let out a frustrated sigh and let the same false smile take to my heavily painted lips.

I'd been posing in the same dress for almost an hour, looking in directions I didn't even think possible, hearing voices that felt like they needed to be drowned by a heavy bottle of vodka. My eyes were bored of the flashing, my lips aching as they tried to hold a smile good enough to convince teenage girls they needed ridiculously expensive makeup to look like me.

"Right... I think that will do for the minute. Take a break and get her a touch up. I want some poses with the hat on." A man announced, clapping his hands together and rubbing them with the thought of the money this was gonna bring him, a greedy, toothy and most definitely unsettling grin pulling at his lips.

I sighed again, rolling my eyes as I took a seat in the bright orange chair behind me. I sat patiently as a pair of girls rushed over, simply telling to either look up or down whilst they smothered my face in different brushes and products.

"Make sure this scar stays covered, don't want people to see that." The blonde one smiled, taking a sponge before gently tapping it over the mark over my eyebrow.

I always used to think of my dad when people mentioned it, decided to draw attention to the slightly purple slash sat above my far too over-plucked eyebrows, but now it somehow reminded me of Roger. It wasn't bizzare that it did, he had a supposed small relation to it, but I think my mind seemed to link everything to him now.

I didn't have any idea what he was up to. I assumed his tour went well, and I could only guess the band were working on another album, but I really hadn't seen the drummer again.

"Miss Petrov... phone call for you. Says it's urgent. It's your Uncle Julian... something about a family friend." My brows furrowed, a shock no other person in the room would understand as the women that announced the call quickly ushered me out of the chair. I followed her to the phone, slightly confused yet mainly excited as her heels tapped along the laminate flooring.

"Just in there... let me know if you need anything." She smiled, opening a wooden door that lead to what seemed to be an office with a phone wired up to the wall.

"Hello ?"

"Hiya Adelynn it's your uncle Julian... something oh so awfully serious has happened to your aunt and I think you need to take the rest of the day off work !"
The familiar voice exclaimed, an awful posh accent almost ruined by the laughter he was trying to hold back.

"How'd you even get this number Jules ?" I giggled, my cheeks glowing red as a bit my bottom lip.

"I have my ways... no in all seriousness you left their number pinned to my fridge after getting back from Mel's. You said not to forget it, but you did. So here we are." He replied, a sense of pride in his tone, that wasn't well hidden by a small chuckle. I didn't really know what to say. I was surprised, pleasantly of course, and I was desperate to escape from what felt like easily the thirtieth photoshoot of the week.

I'd been so wrapped up in work the past few weeks I had little time to think about Roger. Especially after being shared between Connie and Julian, both two friends who were trying their hardest to reassure me. Because even though I never seemed to find the time, I did think of Roger still. Still replaying everything.

But I didn't do much thinking necessarily, I more often found myself feeling guilty, regretful, annoyed, and fucking desperate to have him back. I missed him, every unmatched piece of him, and it felt as if that's how I would always feel about him. I would hopefully just learn to live with it.