Body Language. Queen

Patrick.

John's P.O.V.

I froze. My heart thumped. My breathing deepened.

I stayed staring at Roger's hands that were previously unlocking our hotel room door, now they had stopped and he had turned around to face the voice that had just spoken.

Roger didn't know who it was.

But I did.

"Can I help you?" Roger asked politely but somewhat impatiently as he no doubt still wanted to strip me of my clothes and throw me on our bed, but the mood had gone now...I didn't want to do anything anymore.

Roger had turned around and all I heard was a low chuckle, one that didn't come from my boyfriend.

"No. But he can." The voice said, smugly.

It was then I reluctantly and timidly turned around, so slowly, still staring at the floor until I faced them, my eyes dragging themselves up until I made eye contact with them.

He was watching me, a huge grin on his face, it was quite menacing.

"Hello, Deaky." He raised his eyebrows and spoke in his strong American accent, still grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

His voice making me tremble as I swallowed thickly, breaking out into a sweat.

"Roger...go in our room please." I whispered desperately.

"What, no I-!" He argued.

"Roger. Please go in our room. I won't be long." I said louder this time, all the while feeling threatened and belittled by the the other persons evil tainted grin.

Roger sighed heavily, I knew he didn't want to leave me, I knew he was worried. But I didn't want him involved in anything that was about to happen.

My past was about to be scraped up from its grave and I didn't want him to witness any of it.

He finally obeyed, unlocking our door and going into our room, closing it behind him.

"Hello, Patrick." I finally replied with a wobbly, quiet voice.

"Long time no see...you miss me?" He began to walk closer to me, I could smell his cheap cologne, it was almost as sickly as that smile still plastered over his face, making me feel quite uncomfortable.

Like toothache...was what I wanted to say, but I knew that wouldn't go down well.

"What are you doing here?" I asked through gritted teeth, ignoring his idiotic question.

He started to step closer to me but I stood my ground, "I wanted to see you. I've missed you." He lifted his hand and his fingers traced my jawline.

I pushed his hand away in disgust, "It's been six years."

"Six years of torment, John. It's been driving me crazy, seeing you on the TV and hearing your songs on the radio...as soon as I knew you were returning here...I just knew I had to get my hands on you..." he'd walked impossibly closer to me, his voice purposefully playful.

But I wasn't buying it. Not after last time.

I breathed out, hoping to god either Brian or Freddie would randomly walk out of their room and I could run away from Patrick...but it was gone 3am...they were probably asleep.

I knew too well that Roger was overly protective of me and could guarantee that his ear would probably be pressed up against the door, trying to listen to what ever was going on out here...so I knew we had to get away.

"Would you care to take a walk with me..." I asked, flatly, glaring at him.

He recoiled a little, allowing me to breathe but that stupid grin only grew wider at my advancement.