Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
i slam the door of the apartment shut, groaning as i throw my bag onto the table. throwing my shoes off and walking into the kitchen. i glance at the clock and sigh, leaning against the wall. i had about an hour until the boys got here, and an hour and a half until i met with my creepy realtor to look at some homes closer to the hospital. the commute was really starting to take a toll on me, so i figured that finding a place to live closer to the hospital would've been a good investment. of the four months that we've been back from tour, i spent three of them driving back and forth from the apartment to the hospital, i was practically working just to pay for gas to take me to work. plus, john and i can't live together forever. he can't keep avoiding bringing camila home because he feels bad for me...as if i ever extended him that courtesy when i was with roger. i shake my head, chuckling at the memory and taking out a glass and pouring myself a drink, filing the glass to the top with white wine. i take a sip, pausing and staring into the full glass.
"it's only 5 o'clock and i'm drinking a full glass of wine by myself...am i an alcoholic? hmm...no. no i'm fine."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i turn the stove off and place the lid onto the pot. the smell of the vegetable stew overwhelming the apartment. i sit at the table with a bowl for myself, dipping small pieces of french bread into the soup. i glance up at the clock and groan, running into my room to quickly change into something more casual and not hospital scrubs. i hear the door slam shut and the boys stomping their way into my home. i throw a sweater on over my yellow sundress and walk out into the kitchen where i see all the boys at the table, staring into nothing.
"hey. you guys alright? where's freddie?"
roger scoffs, shaking his head and john slams a glass down onto the table. i furrow my eyebrows in confusion and i pick up my dirty dishes, and place them into the sink. i place a hand on brian's shoulder and sit down between him and john.
"what happened at that meeting?"
john looks up at me, raising an eyebrow.
"fred left."
"left? left where?"
"left as in queen is dead." roger scoffs.
he gulps down the dark liquor in his cup, scoffing and throwing the glass against the wall. i flinch and brian pats my knee comfortingly. roger sighs, sitting down and putting his head in his hands.
"i'm sorry. i'll clean that up."
"it's alright. just try not to break anymore of my glasses. i'll pick it up when i get back." i smile softly, pushing myself up out of my chair.
