Bohemian Rhapsody

You're My Best Friend Part Six

You watched, almost in slow motion, as Roger threw out his fist, anger blazing in his eyes, taking over really - you'd later say that you were sure, in that moment, that he couldn't have been reasoned with. His temper had always been easy to ignite. Especially, if not primarily, about you.
You blinked,frozen, watching Marcus, the taller one by at least a few inches, reeling in almost shock, blood starting to trickle down his face. You almost flinched , having hated violence of any kind since you were... well, forever. Especially when you saw Roger was about to be on the receiving end of it.
The whole bars attention was focused on them, and yours was too, too shocked to even try to interfere. Perhaps, as much as you hated yourself for it, scared. You didn't know exactly why you were so surprised - this had happened before.
Time almost paused - Brian and Deacy moving to intervene, Roger staring, jaw set, right fist beginning to bleed, and bruise. Marcus, a harsh look on his face.
Then the fight really started, fists flying, yells loud, Roger giving more than he was getting, and you, you moving forwards, screaming. You forgot your fear when it was Roger, when he had blood and bruises and split lips.
"Roger, Stop!" You exclaimed, but you doubted he was even hearing you.
"Don't you dare speak about her like that again." He snarled to Marcus, ducking out of the way of his fist.
"Roger, please." You were almost begging, tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks, almost trembling, hating yourself for being too fearful to step in.
He looked almost mad, blond hair sticking up in all directions, an eye that was rapidly becoming swollen, and a bleeding lip.
Brian began to pull back Roger, Deaky helping, splitting up the fight, and a man who you had not met, and assumed was Marcus' friend pulling said man away, when the bartender began to yell too, angry.
"Right, you lot, out now!"
*******************************
You sniffed, as you, Roger, and the rest of your group were kicked out, Marcus and his group of friends giving the lot of you a look, then realising that they were sorely outnumbered, and with a few mumbled swears, walking away. You still had tears on your cheeks, and you began to walk, the opposite direction of that arse Marcus, wrapping your arms around you.
You were several feet away, when after Brian had berated Roger, exasperated, you heard said drummers voice.
"Aza!"
Ignore, ignore.
Roger wasn't one to give up, and you heard his running footsteps, trying to catch up.
You didn't want to look at him - in part because you were furious, and in part because you didn't want to see his beat up face.
He sensed that, shoving his hands in his coat pockets, wincing slightly at the pain.
You pretended not to notice, walking in silence, the whole way back to your apartment. Not comfortable silence - tense, angry silence.
"You okay?" You mumbled, turning the key in the lock, opening the door. Just to make sure.
".. Yeah."
You sighed, turning round to look at him, in the dim hallway light.
His hair was messy, and his lip was swollen, split, nose bleeding a little, and a quickly blossoming black eye, and a blue-black bruise stretching along his jaw.
"No, you're not." You sighed, hand reaching out, almost touching his bruised face, before you remembered that you were still pretty annoyed. "Come into the kitchen, I'll try and fix your fucked up face." Your voice was neutral, but it had an undertone of annoyance, like he was being a burden to you. It wasn't true - but you were pissed.
He sat on the counter, legs dangling a few centimetres above the tiled floor, as you got a clean cloth, standing in between his legs, and gently dabbed at his nose, clearing away the blood.
"You shouldn't have done that." You said quietly, not meeting his eyes, cleaning his lip. He winced at pain a little.
"Wasn't going to let him get away with that." He replied gruffly.
You exhaled a little. "I'm sorry. For yelling before. For not standing up for myself so you had to deal with it."
"You dealt with it like you usually do Aze. You're scared to hurt people. But sometimes you need to. Like with him."
"I..."
"What if I hadn't been there, Aza? If none of us had been there? What would have happened the rest of them hadn't been there?"
"Roger don't say that."
"You need to stick up for yourself Aze. As much as I want to stick with you like glue to make sure no one even lays a finger on you, one day, you know I won't be there." His voice was quiet, and you looked into his blue eyes.
"I know." You said shortly, looking away.
He sighed, leaning back.
"Promise you'll stick up for yourself more next time Aze?"
He held out his pinky, like when you were kids.
"Yeah." You linked them, and it was more of a promise, it was an apology for what had happened before.
"He really was a twat." He rolled his eyes slightly. "I don't regret beating the hell out of him."
"I think we can agree on the twat thing." You agreed, pinkies still interlinked for no real reason.
You didn't let go, though. And you hated yourself for not wanting too.