In Only Seven Days | Roger Taylor

Monday

Roger had no idea where he was.

Well, not entirely.

He knew he was still in the UK and was just hours away from London. It was a small coastal city, very much unlike the hustle and bustle of London.

He and the boys were in the middle of some rigorous song-writing and semi-recording process but it was all getting very tiring. While they were able to come up with a few material, none of them could entirely feel what they produced.

There were also a few arguments here and there about musical arrangements and metaphors and which line fitted this melody and so on.

It was exhausting.

And so Freddie had suggested that they all take some time away from each other, specifically a week, drive somewhere and not tell the others where they would be going. No one objected and the day after, each member was off to their own destination.

Roger had no idea why he chose the small and simple town. He wasn't even a big fan of beaches. Sure, sunsets were beautiful and the sky did look very pretty but it never really fascinated him.

The city, however, wasn't too crowded and busy, which he was very grateful of. Back in London, people were starting to recognize him in the streets and while it was flattering, he missed the times he could just walk freely without girls fawning over him just because he was the Roger Taylor.

The place seemed to be the town that would give him a week of normalcy. If he was being honest, his wrists were hurting from too much drumming.

It was currently 10am and he was intent on finding a place to stay at for the week, preferably somewhere with a car park.

The roads weren't entirely small but the buildings and establishments didn't go as high as the ones in London and in the cities of America.

Roger had stopped his car to ask an elderly woman who was walking by the sidewalk, perhaps in her 60's, if she knew any inns around the area. The woman had eyed him, mostly his disheveled blonde hair which stopped right at his shoulders, before giving him directions. He had removed his sunglasses and thanked the elder woman with a smile who seemed to warm up as soon as she saw his eyes.

After a minute or so, he reached the inn and was not entirely surprised nor disappointed at the structure facing him. The building was only three stories high and he was pretty sure the paint colour used to be a dark red. However, it had faded and there were patches of cream where the dark red paint had peeled off. There were several cars parked along the street so Roger assumed it was alright to leave his car there. He took out his bag, hung his sunglasses on his neckline and shook his car door to ensure it was locked. He then made his way towards the inn's front door.

The front door was also obviously very old. It had a wooden frame and cloudy glass panes. He opened it and was welcomed with a slightly dim lobby with carpeted floors and the place smelled like lemon wood polish. The dim lighting was caused by a rusty chandelier with several bulbs that weren't functioning anymore. He looked around and saw two red couches with a coffee table in between by the right side of the room. On the opposite was the front desk area where a woman in her 50s (Roger's intelligent guess) was standing.

"Good morning, what can we help you with?" She told Roger when she saw him approaching. He could tell her hair was obviously dyed as it was too black. Her pink lipstick was a stark contrast to it. She was wearing a white button shirt and a black pencil skirt. She didn't look very strict but she also didn't look very happy.

Roger took note of the gold nameplate on her chest's left side.

"Good morning, Lucy," he began, leaning slightly on the counter and giving away a side-smile. If any of his bandmates were around, they probably would have called him out for using the 'Roger Magic'.

It seemed to be effective, although not as much, as he noticed Lucy's posture change.

"I was wondering if you had any room's available?"

She nodded at him, saying, "You're in luck. We only have one available room at the moment. Lad that stayed just checked out at the crack of dawn. How long will you be staying?"

Roger then told her he'd be there for the week, to which Lucy confirmed that the available room was good for the duration as there were no reservations. She asked Roger to wait as she wandered to a door behind the counter which he guessed led to a staffroom of some sorts. He could hear her calling someone named "Mike" and asking if Room 112 was good to go. He heard a faint confirmation and soon enough, Lucy was back. She opened a small cabinet stuck on the left wall behind the counter and grabbed a key which she handed Roger.

After getting directions as to where the room was located, he began the small journey towards his temporary home.

The room, which was located on the upper floor, was quite small but seemed to be very cozy. The bed was covered in floral-printed sheets and blankets. There was a bedside cabinet with a lamp. By the window was a single chair and a coffee table. Behind the lace curtains, Roger had a view of the street where he could also see his car.

The bathroom, equally as small, had a shower, a toilet, and a sink. There was also a small shelf with two fluffy towels.

Roger was more than satisfied with his accommodation.

It was going to be a lovely and restful week.

a/n: hello, lovies! tis my first time to write a Queen fanfiction. Roger Taylor in 1975/76 was my basis for his look in this story. However, you are also free to envision Ben Hardy. Please leave a comment, fave, or add to your library if you're enjoying the story! :D