i haven’t forgotten - roger taylor
this is for a request!! angst list #35: “Do you regret it?”
Warnings: Language (ANGST)
Another one of Freddie’s parties. You didn’t really want to be here.
Glancing around, you could see all the sweaty bodies dancing and drinking. You were pretty sure you were the only sober one here. You felt a tap on your shoulder and you turned around. Freddie stood there, in an outrageous outfit, and a smile on his face.
“Hey, lovey-dove,” he grinned, slurring his words together. “You enjoying yourself?”
You nodded, smiling lightly.
“Mhmm, good. Good, good, good,” he propped his chin on his hands, leaning against the couch you sat on. “You know what I think you need, dearest?”
“What’s that?” you quipped.
“A drink. You’ve got troubled eyes. Even my drunk-ass can tell something’s up. I’ll be right back!” Freddie giggled, going off to who-knows-where.
You glanced around the party again. Of course you had “troubled eyes”. But, who knew, maybe he wasn’t going to show up. You hoped, at least.
After a minute of fiddling with your fingers, you felt someone sit down beside you.
“I really don’t want anything to drink, Fred,” you said, not looking up.
Your head shot up. It wasn’t Freddie.
“Oh, I…” You didn’t know what to say. It was Roger. Your eyes met his baby-blue ones.
“Roger…” you said gently. He gave you one of his crooked smiles. You had fallen for it before.
“Haven’t seen you in a while, love.” He said politely. You swallowed, unsure of how to respond.
“Darling!” You heard from behind you. Freddie handed you a glass. “Hello, Rog,” He looked between the two of you with a grin, “Ooh! The two of you should have fun!” Freddie was too drunk to remember. “Well, bottoms up love,” he sang, walking away to greet more people.
Roger chuckled at Freddie, and then the two of you fell back into an awkward silence. It couldn’t hurt to drink some, you decided.
“You still love a good beer, I see,” Roger smiled, absentmindedly tapping his thigh.
You looked up at him, and took another swig of beer.
He smiled again. “And you still look as beautiful as ever.”
You glared at him, but slowly, your gaze melted. You finally, for the first time in a few months, got a good look at him. Roger was as attractive as ever, you noted. His hair was a bit shorter, and his button-up shirt was opened at the top, giving you a good look at his chest. And his eyes, God, his eyes. They were looking at yours with the charm you had tried to forget.
If you were being honest, you had missed him. But you weren’t going to tell him that.
Even so, a couple drinks later, you found yourself drawn to him as he told you stories, both of you getting more and more physical. And you most definitely couldn’t bring yourself to say no when he asked if you wanted to find an empty room somewhere upstairs.
The two of you barely made your way up the stairs, your bodies pressed against each other, and you lips intertwined. Roger’s shirt came off as you stumbled down the hall. Entering an unoccupied room, he pressed you up against the wall, giving you long, wet kisses on your neck.
Something snapped in you at his words.
You pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him off. Eventually, he got the hint, pulling away from you and running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“What’s wrong?” Roger asked.
You gazed up at him. “Do you regret it?” You ask, emptily.
“Do you regret kissing her?”
“Do you regret fucking her? In our bed?” You asked, angrily now.
Roger sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Y’know, I thought you’d be over that.”
You scoffed, “And I thought you’d be over cheating and justifying it.”
There was a pause, and all you could hear was the both of you breathing heavily.
You quited your voice, “I thought tonight was gonna be different, Rog.”
Roger moved his lips to say something, then stopped.
“This was a bad idea, Roger. Very bad.” You could see him close his eyes in the dimly lit room. “I can’t be with you. I think you know that,” you sighed.
Roger was leaning down, and putting his shirt back on. He leaned over to you, and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek.
“Have a nice life, love,” he muttered sincerely, with a hint of bitterness.
Roger slinked over to the door, and paused to turn and look at you. After a moment, he just nodded, and he was gone. You pressed your hand to the place where his lips had touched you.
You were alone at the party, again.
