Better Left Unsaid: Roger Taylor x Female Reader
Rewritten from a post from my other side blog: @7upharry. I just thought this fit Roger so well!
Y/N is in love with Roger. She isn’t sure he feels the same.
Read Part 2 here
Your name: submit What is this?
If she was smarter, she wouldn’t have said anything. She would have kept her mouth shut and moved on. She would have drowned her feelings and pretended like it didn’t pain her every time Roger’s gaze wandered or like a little part of her died every time he introduced her as his friend.
“I don’t just love you as a friend, Roger, I’m in love with you. Have been for a while I suppose.”
She shouldn’t have said a damn thing, because here he was before her, slack-jawed and silent. Roger, who always had a cheeky comment at the ready, was completely silent. The only time she’s had him lost for words. Staring at her like she could tell him what to say. He opened his mouth only to close it again, and those twenty seconds of silence felt like the longest of her life. He stepped towards her, a hand reaching for her wrist, “Y/N, I-“. He was stammering, unsure of how to respond.
She shook her head, the tears blurring her vision as she moved past him, a dry laugh escaping her lips. “See you around, Roger.”
She was vaguely aware of his footsteps and shouts behind her. But she was so incredibly embarrassed and hurt that she couldn’t stand to even look at him. She didn’t hate him. She couldn’t even if she tried. Pitiful. Yet, it wasn’t like the rejection was new to her. She was stupid to think that Roger would love her the way she loved him, not with all the beautiful women who waited to meet him after shows; the ones with long legs and bright eyes. She had always been second best.
She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, crossing the threshold and running for her car, so desperately wanting to be home. Her efforts were in vain, however, because the tears fell freely again once she was within the safety of her car, heaving sobs escaping her mouth, gasping for breath. The choking sobs continued the entire drive back.
She kicked off her shoes as soon as she got her flat, making a beeline for her bedroom and throwing herself atop the bed, removing the covers and hiding beneath them, seeking comfort. She closed her eyes and yet the only thing she could see was the blank look on his face. The rejection. Him confirming that he didn’t love her the way she loved him.
They were close. But maybe she was so blinded by her love for him that she let herself read too heavily into every word that left his mouth; every glance. She knew how Roger was, flirtatious and cheeky with nearly everyone he met. She should have known she wasn’t anything special. Nevertheless, she had been so convinced that not all friends acted the way they did.
They’d known each other maybe four months at this point; having met after a London gig.They hit it off quite well, she was able to match his quick wit and never let him know how cute she thought he was. She watched the band regularly after that, and she and Roger would have long chats at the bar before he’d excuse himself, leaving with a girl on his arm.
It was such a night, after a gig, and the whole band was crammed together in Roger’s apartment. The guys insisted they were wanting to work out the lyrics for a new song, but they ended up drinking and watching an old black and white film on the small television set. Roger hadn’t planned on anyone sleeping over, but they’d fallen asleep. Brian was sprawled out on the couch, John curled up on the other end, and Freddie was passed out on the recliner, looking the most comfortable of the bunch.
Roger and Y/N were the only ones still awake, backs pressed against the wooden coffee table as they sat side by side on the floor, eyes sleepily following the screen.
At that moment, she felt her heart fill with such love for all the people in the room, such pride for all the hard work they had been putting in, and especially for the sleepy man beside her, who was more than she ever could have imagined him to be.
“Roger,” she whispered, poking his arm.
“Y/N” he responded, turning to face her with a small smile on his face.
She returned it, reaching out and letting her hand fall on his shoulder. “You’re going to be massive someday, I’m sure of it.”
“Didn’t know you were a psychic Y/N. Not sure I believe in all that rubbish though.”
Her smile widened at that, “No I mean it, Roger. You guys are something special. Everyone’s going to love you.”
The sincerity in her voice came through and he couldn’t help but believe her. “Still come to all the shows won’t you?”
She scooted closer to him, shifting so she was cross-legged in front of him, “Front and center, I promise.”
“Good, I’ll be needing my good luck charm, need to see your pretty face out there every time.”
She refused to blush at his comment, instead brushing it off with a laugh, “Long as I don’t have to fight off any groupies.”
“Now that I would pay to see. I imagine you’re quite cute all riled up.”
She punched his arm playfully, “Enough Rog, don’t use all your charm on me.”
“So you admit I’m charming?”
“You’re the biggest dork actually, it’s just that no one has the heart to break it to you.”
“Well, this dork is a drummer in a pretty cool rock and roll band.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s finish the film.” She grabbed a pillow that was strewn on the floor and propped it up against Roger’s thigh, shimmying down before she rested her head on it. “You do make quite a nice headrest though.”
He chuckled at that and they lapsed back into silence. As the film continued, Roger’s fingers absentmindedly moved through Y/N’s hair, and it’s only when he spoke again and got no response that he looked down.
He peered down at Y/N, only to see that her eyes were shut, her lips slightly parted as she slept. A fond smile spread across his face as the film came to an end. His leg was beginning to cramp, and he didn’t want her sleeping on the floor, so as smoothly as he could, he slid out from under her, crouched beside her and pulled her body up into his arms. She moved, mumbling some nonsense in her sleep, her hand clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. He made it down the hall, pushing his bedroom door open with his foot, cursing when he bangs his elbow on the doorframe. She wakes when he places her on the bed, pulling the covers up over her and bidding her goodnight. Her eyes remained closed, even as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and though he couldn’t see it, she felt it. Her heart warmed at the feeling, and as he left, she couldn’t help but wish he would have stayed. But surely they were just friends?
She thought of how he sometimes came over at 2 in the morning after meeting friends, stumbling a little bit, but crushing her in a hug, telling her how much he loved her. As a friend, she thought bitterly. She couldn’t even be mad at him. Love couldn’t be forced, and she knew it, she just wanted so badly for him to have told her differently.
She pulled her blanket up towards her chin, willing sleep to take her so she wouldn’t have to keep replaying the moment in her mind. Her eyes had been closed for maybe 5 minutes when she heard knocking on the door. She knew who it was.
Not now, she thought. The knocking stopped, and she thought he had gone, but the knocks were replaced with Roger’s desperate pleas.
“Y/N, please let me in, darling. I really need to see you. Need to make sure my girl’s alright.”
He was met with her silence. “I’ll stay here all night if I have to, you know that don’t you? Please Y/N.” His voice was softer now, sad.
She couldn’t face him. Not yet. But she couldn’t let him sit outside her door all night either. She forced herself up, padding across the wood floor, stopping in front of the door.
“Roger?” she croaked.
“Come on pretty girl, let me see you,” his voice was hardly above a whisper.
“You have to leave Roger. I’m not mad at you, I just want to be alone a while.” Her voice always gave her away. It was evident how much she had been crying.
“Y/N if you would just-“
“Roger, please!” She pleaded, her voice rising. “After what just happened can you please just give me some time? Please”
He was silent a moment. “I’m sorry Y/N, truly.”
“Go, Roger. I’m not ready.” She waited until she heard him shuffle from the doorway, peeking through the peephole as he receded.
As she stood against the door, she felt nothing but defeat. She’d gone and ruined it all.
How did it come to this?
