PRETTY LOVER BOY - ROGER TAYLOR

XXX.

He sighs. A deep, heavy sigh, burdened with whatever he's going through. He doesn't speak, however, just stares at his glass as I sip my own.

"I know," I say when I finally realize he really isn't going to say anything. Freddie looks up at me, tilting his head in question. "About all the men."

"Yes," his voice is uncertain, "I think I'm bisexual."

"It's ok, Freddie," I set my champagne down on the side table, tucking my legs under me. "And it's not your fault."

We look at each other for a long while.

"Mary knows too." His eyes go a bit wide and he too sets down his glass.

"Did she say something to you?"

"No. She almost has, but no." I set my hands in my lap, brushing my thumbs over each other. "You need to tell her yourself, before someone else does it for her. She needs to hear it from you."

"I'm afraid, Clementine." And so he is. He genuinely is. Freddie, nearly a god, is scared, and all I can do is open my arms to him.

"I know," I say, hugging him tight. "But you have to."

"What if she leaves me?" He asks. He's crying now, I can both see and feel it. He hardly ever cries, and it's almost frightening to be near. Gods aren't supposed to cry.

"Then you'll have to let her go," I pull back so I can look at him, "you can't hold on to her, it's not fair." He sniffles, wiping his reddening eyes.

"You really are my better half," he laughs sadly, reaching back to take his glass once more. I smile at him as I take my own.

"Love you, Freddie."

"I love you too."

♛ ♛ ♛

"So you talked to him?" Roger asks me from the hotel bed as I wash my face. "And he was responsive?"

"Yes Roger, after I told Pretner to piss off." I pat down my face with the cotton towel.

"God I'd like to sock him." I can hear him shifting around in the groaning bed.

"Wouldn't we all." I shut off the bathroom light before entering into the bedroom, stretching my hands over my head with a yawn.

"Is he ok?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean."

"He's tired, Rog. But he's a showman and he won't stop. I think I've got him back, for now. All the way for a while. We just have to even out the time he spends with Paul. God knows what they do but it drains him. Issue is I don't think we could entirely get rid of him even if we tried."

I stand, leaned against the doorframe, chewing on my thumb nail.

"You work too much," Roger says, lifting the covers up and patting the bed next to him. I shake my head, padding over and crawling under the sheets.

"Well, if you all would stop being so good at being a band, I wouldn't be," I move myself over him, dropping down on his stomach and resting my head on his chest. Roger toys with his necklace around my neck, pressing a kiss to my hair.

"Do you ever take this off?" He asks.

"The last time I did was when I threw it at you," I reply, grinning against his bare chest.

"Right," he pushes all my hair over one of my shoulders before I slide off of him, fitting myself against his side. I find, looking up at him, that his face is flushed.

"Good, you should still feel bad about it," I purse my lips out like a bratty child, throwing an arm over him.

"You're not even upset about the girl anymore," he says, "it's the damn jacket."

"Of course it is!" I jump up, sitting on his stomach, "I cannot believe you let her wear it out!"

"I didn't," He sits up a bit and I slide back so I'm sitting on his hips. "I just wanted her out I wasn't paying attention."

"But my jean jacket, Roger," I whine, and he chuckles.

"You're cute when you're upset." I scoff.

"I can tell," I jab lightly at his stomach, "you're poking me."

"And I'm not even entirely hard," he smirks.

"Egotistical," I roll my eyes, getting entirely off the bed. I begin to strip as Roger props himself up farther on his elbows.

"What're you doing?" He asks.

"Ask me what I'm going to do," I toss my underwear on to his chest, "you'll get a better answer."

♛ ♛ ♛