Roommates (Roger Taylor/Queen)

11. Saved By The Bell

CHAPTER ELEVEN
'SAVED BY THE BELL'

༻༺

EVERYTHING IN THE LIVING ROOM WAS COMPLETELY STILL - the clock ticking away on the mantlepiece and the record playing in the background being the only exception - as Roger and I sat opposite each other quietly at the white, wooden table. Not saying a word as I glanced up every so often to study my 'subject', I took my time sketching the image of the drummer in front of me with as much accuracy as possible, whilst Roger stayed relatively still for me with his head propped up with his arm, watching in fascination as my pen glided across the paper.

Despite his interest in the process, however, I could tell Roger was getting quite bored of sitting there like a statue, as he kept bouncing his leg up and down underneath the table and making it shake, resulting in me telling him off for causing me to make an error. I'm not sure what exactly possessed me to go ahead with it in the first place- but I'd started now and I fully intended to finish. The blonde was receiving a place in my beloved sketchbook - so was going to do a bloody good job of it.

The two of us sat there for a solid quarter of an hour in silence - personally I didn't mind the absence of conversation because it meant I could concentrate better - but eventually it all became too much for the drummer and he had to say something before he likely went insane.

'You a big Stones fan?' he asked me, referring to the album playing on the turntable.

Not taking my attention away from what I was doing, I looked up momentarily only to study his features so I could get them right, before continuing to draw like he hadn't said a word.

'Actually, the record isn't mine,' I eventually confessed, 'It belongs to my brother. I 'borrowed' it off him one day to have a listen and I guess I just forgot to give it back. But yeah, they're a great band...You've, uh, moved slightly...'

'Oh, sorry,' Roger quickly altered his position so he was in his original pose again, coughing awkwardly. He then told me, 'It's funny actually, my sister used to steal my records all the time as well.'

'Is that right?'

'Oh, yeah. My Bill Haley ones used to go missing on a daily basis; I was convinced we had a poltergeist in our house. Then I'd hear Claire playing them next door in her bedroom and I'd hit the roof. It was like World War Three between us sometimes.'

'Hmm, tell me about it,' I agreed, 'Our house was complete chaos when I was younger too. Then again, I had the joy of growing up with four older brothers.'

'Four brothers?!'

'Yeah,' I replied half-heartedly, 'The oldest's 34 and has kids and a family of his own now. Definitely makes you realise that you're still, and always will be, the baby of the family...'

Why on earth I was telling the drummer all this, I really didn't know, especially considering he probably wasn't even in the least bit interested in my life. But, funnily enough, for some strange reason - he was. Roger was listening to what I was saying like he genuinely wanted to know, It was certainly not a side to him that I'd ever seen or even knew existed until recently. But I wasn't going to open up to him any more than I had to. Not yet.

'How's the drawing coming along?' he asked after a while, nodding at my sketchbook, 'It's looking good.'

'It's slow, but I'm getting there,' I told him honestly, 'Sorry for making you sit there so long, I'm a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to art; I won't finish until I'm one hundred percent happy with what I've done,' I glanced up at him and frowned, 'You've moved again!'