Roger's words hit him like bullets, immediately making his room seem like a safe haven instead of having him out there, in the open with the deadly serious gaze that came from their drummer. A sharp shiver of fear shot down his spine as he tried his best to keep his gaze focused on Roger, but all it did was constantly dart around the room, unable to even look at him, let alone hold any direct eye contact with him. He looked to Brian for help in this situation, almost completely certain that the terror he was feeling at the moment was reflected in his eyes. All he wanted was some type of help, any kind of reassurance that he'd have some backup or safe net to fall back on if he messed up or that he would call off Roger's harshness, but all he got was a sympathetic glace from the older boy as though he was apologizing for his partner's actions before he turned away, looking back down at the ground and shifting his arms against his chest.
He doesn't know, he's bluffing. What proof does he even have? He thought as he attempted to calm himself down with the logic he had in that moment. What evidence did Roger even have? It wasn't like he was like the stereotypical gay man in the first place, or displayed any of the common stereotypes. He hadn't exactly flirted with any man on purpose, hell he had tried to show a lack of emotion towards them in the first place as to not arouse any suspicion. Yet there he was, accusing him of lying to them which he was indeed guilty of doing, but he had specified that it was because he wasn't alright, that he wasn't his normal self, and the cause of all that was his real sexuality. Roger didn't even need to specify it; he just knew that that's exactly what he was talking about.
"Well, answer me John." Roger ordered in a stern voice. John felt the usual response of 'No, I'm fine, honest." Or 'Everything's fine Rog.' Start to build up in his mind, but he couldn't find his voice. His mind rushed to try and put together another sentence to say to him, anything to silence his worries about him so that he wouldn't put either of them in an awkward position, but he found nothing, his voice locking itself in his throat. The only thing that was there was the increasing pressure around him that made his heart hammer against his chest and made his mind go blank. It was that one sentence, that one that let him know he was aware of what was going on, but what he could've done to make him think that in the first place was what his mind was more focused on.
"Roger let up on him. He looks petrified." Brian said softly, flashing a soft glance over to him to try and reassure him that nothing bad was going on, even though nothing at that moment in time was actually going to help him out.
"Bri shut it. That's exactly why. If nothing was going on he wouldn't look like a ghost. So unless he wants me to straight up say it, I suggest he comes out and says it already."
"Roger, you can't just-" He began, placing his hand onto Roger's shoulder to try and calm him down even a tad bit just so that he'd listen to his boyfriend and hopefully let up on the whole topic right now.
"Brian no. I already explained to you what's going on and I am not sitting there any longer while he looks absolutely miserable day in and day out because you want him to do it on his own."
John desperately wanted to get up and leave, just to escape back to his room and lock the door, just to forget that this was all happening right now. It was all just some nightmare he was experiencing as a punishment for not having to deal with any from the previous night. Yet it all felt too real. There was no bizarre lapse of time or any hazy sight in front of him to let him know that this was something he'd wake up out of, no random change of scenery to let him escape this living hell that he was currently trapped in, just something, anything, out of the ordinary to let him know that this would end. But all he got was the other two's arguments about what they were doing for the time being. He felt so small compared to them, like they were these demons towering meters above him that were now debating his fate ahead of him, whether or not he would survive it and how treacherous it should be for him to cross it while they watch out of entertainment and joy, laughing at his misfortune because they just knew he was too weak to actually make it through.
"He knows I know now and either you stay here to help or go sit in the other room. Take your pick now so I can move on. I can't bear that anymore and I want to help him and that's that." Roger spat, his hands curled into fists at his sides as he glared at his partner, his eyes dark yet fiery with emotion.
John hadn't even been aware of the growing wells of tears at the corner of his eyes till they neared the edge, just barely ready to fall down onto his face. He wasn't sure if they were out of fear of what was going on and practically being yanked out of the closet, having only the rim of the door left for him to cling onto while Roger tugged at his clothes, forcefully ripping him out of that depressing yet safe environment he had known for almost his whole life, or if it was from all of the unknowingness that sat in front of him, the lack of any truth of what they would do with him if he cracked under the pressure and gave in. A quiet whimper fell from out from between his trembling lips, making the other two cease their argument and turn their attention onto him. Roger rushed over, disregarding his previous irritation and harshness, and took a seat next to his shaking form, the first tears finally falling down onto his face and to his shirt, provoking a long string of loud sobs and choked out gasps of air as he finally gave up on trying to remain calm.
"Come here John," Roger soothed, lightly pulling at his shirt so that he could get a good hold around him. However, his body instead fell into the center of his chest, instinctually wrapping his arms around Roger's waist and sobbing into his shirt, feeling amazed at how much better it felt to have just the simple touch of his friend's hand along his back and the soft encouragements of how it was alright and how it'll be okay in a few moments, his current disposition now the exact opposite of how he had been acting a mere few moments ago. He heard Brian's footsteps grow louder as he sat on the floor near the couch, placing his hand on his arm, slowly running it along the upper half as he felt his harsh grip around Roger's shirt weaken, despite the stream of tears remaining extremely steady as the large spots along the older boy's shirt grew bigger as he continued to sob into the fabric.
"Just be gentle Rog," Brian whispered, his hand soon leaving his arm as Roger's movements along his back slowed.
"He needed a bit of a push for once. You can't be gentle all the time or else you won't get what you need."
As the tears went dry once again, John forced his eyes open, just barely managing to have them open halfway so that he could look at the other two. He was still shaking beneath Roger's touch, but not as violently as he had been. Yet there was still plenty of fear inside of him, though he now felt a growing sense of disbelief and disappointment in himself knowing that out of the few secrets he had to keep, he couldn't hold onto this one, the one that linked all the others together.
"I...I'm sorry..." John managed with a shaky breath, ending his sentence with a soft groan while he removed his arms from around Roger and wrapped them around himself, forming a tight grip on his upper arms and arching his back forward, trying his best to curl up onto the couch to try and find some sort of safety from everything around him.
"John...Why're you apologizing? There's nothing wrong with-" Brian began, trying to remove his hard hold around his shirt. John jumped at the sudden touch, shaking his head in denial that he hadn't done anything wrong. Of course he had, he had to have done something to earn their sympathy or at least get their attention on him for once. Surely it had been his own moping around and sheer laziness while they were off stage. How could I act so selfish, of course they're gonna flock to me if I act upset around them...
"It's not anything bad, we're not gonna do anything." Roger comforted, trying like Brian had to soothe him by bringing his hand up to his back, but he again shook him off. He didn't deserve their sympathy for acting sorry for his own poor life choices. Why had he even wanted their attention in the first place? It was just him being greedy for help he wouldn't even accept at any point in time. All he'd do was add extra worry to their already perfect lives. He deserved to be stuck wallowing in his own self-pity over his cowardice and ridiculous shyness in any social situation. He felt sick to his stomach, almost revolted with his unconscious actions to try and get them to care when it'd be worthless in the end.
"Deaky, it's alright..." Roger whispered, placing his hands under his arms and hoisting him up into a weak sitting position, his body feeling far too weak to hold his upper body up before he came falling down onto his hands, the two of them just barely able to hold up the dead weight of his body.
"John, if something bad was going to happen..." Brian began, pausing a moment before continuing with a reason that probably would've been suffice enough to calm him down a bit so that he could finally get around to talking, but all that came up was that almost invisible twinge of annoyance that had been growing at the back of his mind. Yes, he knew that there wasn't anything bad that was gonna happen if he came out and it was just his own paranoia that kept him there, so why was that the only thing they were focused on for the time being?
He let out a low growl of annoyance, shooting a heated glare up at their guitarist before leaping up from the couch, feeling Roger's hand leave his back and land back on the couch. "I'm fully aware that nothing bad was going to happen if I said a damn thing, I'm not blind. You honestly think I didn't know that by now after seeing the perfect couple here for years act completely happy and safe within each other's arms while I also watched the newbies hook up and rub their infatuation into my face for the past year?" John hissed through clenched teeth. Everything that had been building up for what felt like ages started coming to the top: All the frustration, fury, annoyance, everything but that devilish burning admiration he had for their frontman, that stayed beneath the surface for now as he continued his rant, "I'm the one acting like the coward here, not either of you two, yet you're the ones who come to give me the sympathy that I don't deserve from you two! Keep it to yourselves, give it to someone who's got the nerve to say something that'll help their life out, not just sit there every damn day 'cause they don't have the courage to do a damn thing about their life-"
"John, John hold up a second. No one's saying that, we're just saying that there's no issue in being gay." Brian said innocently, giving a soft shrug at the seemingly harmless comment.
Yet it was anything but harmless. As those last few words left his mouth, John felt all the air leave his lungs while his stomach twisted itself into an even tighter knot. He froze in place, his whole body feeling like Brian had just dug a thick blade into his back and twisted it in a complete circle at the quick revelation. He couldn't sit there and believe that it was some other meaningless thing, that they had instead thought he just needed a girlfriend or was homesick or some other crap that a small corner of his mind had thought up of, one that he had tried to use to rationalize the situation at hand and in turn calm his jumping nerves about how they didn't know, how they couldn't know that he wasn't normal like every other person they knew. He felt his knees buckle beneath him as he fell back into the couch, lurching forward and tightly holding his sides to try and steady his shivering as he tried once again to force the tears to fall from his eyes, just so that they'd stop this insistent burning sensation that accompanied the beginning of another crying fit, but all that came was that usual pain that spread through his head as he choked out another cry.
"Oh God John..." Roger whispered breathlessly, trying once again to comfort him by laying his hand on his back. He barely even noticed it, his mind completely absorbed in illogical panic over what Brian had just told him. How did they even know? How could they know? Was it a random guess and he had just been foolish enough to let them know they were right? His mind filled itself with unreasonable excuses for how the two of them could ever figure out his sexuality without him ever once letting them or anyone know. Then came the scolding from that vile voice in his mind. You idiot! You absolute bloody idiot! How on earth could you let them find out? You've acted so secretive about this for months, years even and yet you go and fuck it all up. Look at what you've done, troubled their lives with your petty problems. You should feel sick for what you're gonna do to them because you couldn't come out on your own terms or say a damn thing to him about how you feel.
And he actually believed it, he believed everything it was telling him. God look what I'm doing to them...They're just gonna waste their time with me.
"John, John look at me." Roger ordered, grabbing both of his arms, yanking them off from around himself, and turning his body so that he was facing him. He snuck a quick glance up at their drummer, feeling another stab of guilt at his chest at the sincerity in his friend's soft gaze, not a hint of any threatening shadows that had been there at the beginning.
"Stop it. It's alright. Please, we've both been through similar crap when it came to coming out. You can trust us, just please let us help you."
"W-why should..." John began, letting that miserable part of his mind take control as he fell limp in Roger's hold on him, his body desperately wanting to release itself from his grip yet failing immediately, instead letting him hold him up rather than letting him fall flat on the couch.
"Because if neither of us cared at all, we wouldn't be here trying to help you." Brian interrupted, sitting down on the floor next to the couch.
Don't listen to-No, They're right. You almost said something earlier to him and they're right, just...just trust them and see what happens for once. There's no use in lying either, they already know. "H-how did you...?" He asked, finally mustering up the courage to ask the main question on his mind for the time being.
"I found one of your songs while packing your stuff up. I'd already had some suspicions beforehand, but this sealed the deal." Roger explained, leaning over towards him to pull out a crumbled ball from his pocket. He flattened out the sheet of paper against his leg and handed it over to him. He wanted to groan at the stupid act of leaving the original lyrics to one of his songs in his bag. It was something he did to make writing easier, at least whenever he wrote a song about him. He'd leave the pronoun 'he' in the original one and then change it to 'she' or whatever pronoun he needed so that the song would look like he was talking about some girl instead of the true light of his eye. He easily read over the lyrics in his head, easily imagining all the time he'd spent just before this tour started writing down the new words during the countless hours he'd spend at home. "I must be strong so he won't know how much I miss him. I only hope as time goes on, I'll forget him." Good lord how could I be so stupid to leave this in there?
"Such a stupid way to be found out." He growled under his breath, throwing the sheet down to the ground and burying his face in his hands once again.
"To be fair, I did say I was suspecting it. Pretty much since you never seem to flirt with any girl or let any fans get in your pants backstage." Roger said, trying to add a positive spin on the situation with a bit of humor, yet all it got was a smack on the back of his head from his partner. He leant down a picked up the sheet of paper, stuffing it back into his pocket before continuing his sentence. "Anyway, it's not stupid. It probably wasn't the way that you imagined coming out, but we," He paused, his gaze growing dark once again before clearing away whatever thoughts had formed in his mind, "We don't always get to choose how things happen. I just want you to know that if you need to talk, Bri and I are here to help. Also, if you want that is, we'll break it to Freddie-"
His eyes widened in fear as he latched his hand onto the older boy's mouth, immediately silencing him from saying any more about his plan to tell their frontman. No, he doesn't have to know. God he can't know. "No, no please. I...I'll tell him when...when I want to do so. Please, just don't say anything to him yet. I'll...I'll come out to him and anyone else when I want to."
"Roger just listen to him. Good lord you've already done this much to him. You got what you wanted now let the poor boy have some rest." Brian chided, shaking his boyfriend's shoulder to keep his attention on him instead of himself.
"Yeah, he looks like he needs some sleep. We can talk more tomorrow if you'd like?" He suggested, flashing a hopeful glance down at him. John took in a deep breath, managing to give a light nod of approval towards Roger as he steadied himself in his seat, bringing his hand to his face and rubbing the fresh wave of exhaustion out of his eyes. He hadn't even realized how tired he was feeling, especially now that the initial horror he'd been going through at the start had now dulled to a contrasting calmness and almost relief within him now that this infernal conversation had ended on a thankfully positive note.
"Alrighty then, get him to bed so the poor guy can sleep. There's no need to fit everything into one night Rog."
"Yeah yeah I got that Bri. I'm not gonna get anything else out of him." Roger said, pushing himself off of the couch and sticking his hand out in front of him, prompting him to actually get up and go to his room instead of staying there on the couch now that most of his energy had been drained from the whole conversation. He eventually grabbed his hand and let him pull him off the couch. John staggered in place a bit before gaining his balance and slouching over a bit, his body practically begging him to sit back down and just sleep out on the couch that night. Instead he felt the older boy yank him into a tight embrace, holding him directly against his chest and running one of his hands along his spine.
"It's gonna be fine. I'm sorry for being rough, but I couldn't stand to see you like that anymore. It'll get better, I know it will." He whispered into his ear before releasing his hold around him. John sighed in relief and followed the other two back down the hall, seeing them enter their room together and gently closing the door, Brian fitting in a quick smile before he disappeared behind it. John smiled weakly afterwards and entered his own room, managing a quick look over at their frontman's empty bedroom, currently fighting the urge to go in there and explore the little things he would have lying about in there and instead entering his own, softly shutting the door behind him and heading for his own quiet sleep.
...
A loud crash of thunder from outside his room jerked him out of his once again dreamless slumber. John sat up and rubbed the remaining shreds of sleep out of his eyes and looked towards his window. Hundreds of rain droplets ran down the glass, immediately being replaced with a fresh set in less than five seconds. The sky looked like the aftermath of a fire, the thick, charcoal colored clouds resembling the plumes of smoke that would fill the sky once the fire had been extinguished, only lighting up whenever a sudden flash of lightening would ignite the sky for a split second before another rumble of thunder would follow.
He felt a cold shiver run along his spine as the memories from the night before resurfaced. He felt quite lucky knowing that what had happened hadn't plagued his dreams this time around, however he knew better than to think he was safe from any harrowing nightmares or tantalizing dreams yet. It all felt too real to him, too frightening to know that he'd lost that one secret to the two of his friends because of his carelessness. There was no reason for him to just toss the sheet of paper next to his bag instead of actually putting it somewhere safe in there. Hell he didn't even know why he brought the damn song in the first place. It wasn't like it would be finished any time soon and he had instead put his focus on two other songs that were close to being done, or at least in his eyes they'd be completed soon. But there was no turning back now, he'd confirmed Roger's suspicions and now was stuck with having to deal with the consequences of whatever it was they'd do with that information. Surely they wouldn't just blurt it out to everyone they knew and they certainly wouldn't tell the press, then again they'd have to expose themselves as well since the two of them shared a far more interesting love life than he had.
The unusual silence unnerved him. Why didn't he hear any insults or arguments from that wicked voice in his mind that would always taunt him because of the mistakes he always made when regarding either his crush or his sexuality. Had it finally been silenced? Or was he just too tired at the moment for his mind to start to argue with itself? Either way, he took the chance and decided to use it to his advantage and shove himself out of his bed instead of sitting there and waiting for it to insult him.
He headed out to the kitchen, torn between dreading to see his fellow bandmates, Roger in particular, yet also somewhat wishing to see them as well. At least if he saw their drummer he could hopefully attempt to talk to him about it now that he wasn't in such a fear-induced place that he couldn't control any of his actions. Yet, as he expected, all he got was the emptiness of their flat. All he heard was the crashing of rain on the outside of the building and the usual guitar based track that was playing off the radio that one of them must have left on before they left. As he headed over to where the sound was coming from, he took notice of a small sheet of paper lying next to the small machine.
Hey John,
Brian and I went out today just to do a light bit of shopping and to grab something to eat afterwards. He found it best to leave a note instead of waking you so here it is. Anyway, Fred left before us and is probably gonna be out with Bret for the day now that we're back from the tour. We'll talk later, if you'd like, about anything.
Roger
John felt his hand twitch, the instinct to crumble the paper into a ball and throw it into the nearest trash bin mixing with the familiar annoyance and exhaustion now that he knew that they were more absorbed in their personal lives that what was happening around him. See, you should've known that if they cared, one of them would've stayed here in case you wanted to talk. He knew it, that voice wouldn't be quiet for long, and it was right. How could he have expected that they'd stick around and listen to his childish whining about how hard life was yet sit there and argue with any advice they might give because he was too scared to say a damn thing to other people.
The familiar pit of loneliness in his stomach grew stronger as a wave of nausea washed over him. He tossed the note onto the ground and shuffled back to his room, the once barely noticeable chill in the air suddenly growing stronger as another crash of thunder rang through their flat. Why do I bother getting my hopes up? It's not like anything was going to change. They know and you can't stop what they'll do with what they've learned.
He crumbled down onto his still unmade bed, tugging the blankets up to the middle of his face and bringing the pillow behind him down to his chest. Come on John, you saw how they were acting last night. They seemed concerned about your wellbeing. Then why'd they leave a note behind and just leave? Now you're acting selfish, you can't expect them to completely stop their lives. Roger even said in his note that you can talk later on. It's better than them not leaving anything. He wanted to believe the little logical, hopeful side of his conscious, he wanted with every ounce of his being to be able to recognize the fact that they did care, that they wanted him to be happy. But there was still that fear that everyone had with coming out. All three of them were only out to their closest friends and each other. Brian and Roger never got too affectionate in public, always making sure to look like close friends instead of a couple and Freddie made sure to never bring Bret to too many places that the press would be able to snap a picture of the two of them. It all just told him that even if he got into a relationship, he'd never be able to truly be free of this pit of despair.
Just sleep, maybe they'll be back then and you can talk to them then. What if they're not or don't want to? No, Roger said that he would. He could be-No, he said...he said he'd talk. Just, just sleep, that's it.
He shut his eyes, trying to drown out the cavalcade of arguments in his head by focusing on the pounding of the rain outside their flat, desperately hoping that he'd be proven right in the fact that Roger would let him talk to him later on. For once, he wanted to tell someone about what he'd dealt with throughout his life, to let someone else actually try and help him with what he was going through for the time being and not be stuck in this hellhole for the rest of his life. Yet there was that final part of it that he didn't dare think about telling Roger and that was about his crush on their frontman. He couldn't dare bring that up, surely Freddie would find out if he told any of them and he couldn't fathom the thought of needing to face him if he ever confronted him on the sheer admiration he felt for him while he was still in a fairly new relationship.
Stop it John, let it go. See what'll happen later on and just, just get some rest for now. He ordered, soon feeling his body sink into the mattress beneath him as the old call of sleep came out to him again, his body responding immediately as he drifted off into the unnecessary slumber.
...
After spending two hours drifting in and out of sleep, never fully falling asleep deep enough to bring on any dreams, yet not remaining awake enough to be aware of the passage of time, John gave up on trying to fall asleep and decided it was best to wash up and at least feel better in terms of cleanliness. He got up and headed for the restroom across the hall, quickly grabbing a makeshift outfit from his dresser before leaving his room.
He rinsed off the soap from his face, looking up at the mirror and running his hand along his face, feeling his stubble scrape against the palm of his hand. He eyed himself in the mirror, debating whether or not if it was worth shaving today or delaying it till tomorrow. He'd never let it grow too long, usually giving in and shaving it off once it really started getting visible. As he sat there over the sink, still debating with himself and what he should do, he faintly heard the gentle tune of the grand piano they had out in the living room ring out through their flat, immediately catching his attention and distracting him from anything else.
John threw on the new pair of jeans he'd grabbed along with the white shirt, buttoning it up as he headed down the hallway, his curiosity getting the better of him as he walked out into main room of their flat.
"John?"
He froze in his place and looked toward where the voice had come from, suddenly fumbling to try and finish buttoning up his shirt to cover up the rest of his chest as he noticed their frontman at the piano, his hands in some random position and holding down the keys, their notes mixing together to form the end of what he assumed was some new, lovely melody that he was composing.
"I-I didn't know anyone else was home." Freddie stuttered out quickly, removing his hands from the instrument and letting them fall to the chair he was sitting in as he brought his upper lip over his teeth, looking genuinely nervous after being caught off guard while composing.
"Y-yeah," John managed as soon as he found his voice again, "I-I was just, just taking a short nap. Sorry for disturbing you."
"You can stay if you'd like. I'm just practicing something."
John felt those fluttery feelings of butterflies return to his stomach as he gave a quick nod in response, taking a seat over on the couch and grabbing a nearby magazine. Freddie soon resumed his piano playing, immediately stealing his attention again as he lost all focus on the book and let his eyes fall halfway shut, his mind completely absorbed in his crush's magnificent piano playing.
God he absolutely adored that talent of his. Effortlessly able to play such a complex song on the piano, making sure to block out any distractions to be completely focused on playing the correct chord. Then to be able to create your own songs that made those previous songs look like child's play. He couldn't even name another person who'd be able to create such a diverse set of melodies that he had. No one in history had written an outlandish mock opera, a song based in a child's imaginary land, and a track that tugged at one's heartstrings as much as his gospel love ballad. He was the only one, and they had him all to themselves. That little lyrical and instrumental genius was all to themselves.
"You wanna come watch or are you going to keep staring at me like I'm some exotic creature?" Freddie teased, giving a playful smile afterwards. He felt a light blush creep up onto his face as he realized that he had taken his gaze off of the magazine and had focused on their singer instead. Without pausing to think about what he had said, he got up and headed over, taking a seat on the nearby chair and leaning forward onto his hands.
"Oh just sit next to me, there's plenty of...of space." Freddie told him, breaking his sentence to swallow thickly before patting on the empty space beside him. Since he didn't want to sound rude by declining his offer, John got up and headed over, though he knew it was mainly because he couldn't even fathom declining the chance to be that close to him. As he sat down, he watched the older boy bring his hands up to fix his already tidy hair, running his fingers through it one last time before he slightly spread his legs out, their legs a mere inch away from each other, his heart fluttering at the sheer closeness between the two of them. He couldn't help but let his eyes run along his body, watching him lean back onto his hands and push his chest slightly forward, pausing only for a moment at his lower body before forcing himself to put his attention on something else besides their singer.
"I've just a small idea for a track. Nothing extravagant," Freddie began, placing his hands on the required piano keys while continuing to explain what he had been doing. "I'm trying for a different approach. Something sounding maybe a bit...bluesy." He explained, his sentence growing quieter as he began to play, the gentle melody soon filling up their home as his hands danced across the instrument, delicately hitting each piece just before they'd move onto the next key. He immediately knew it was a new song, knowing that if it had been one that he hadn't written that he wouldn't look that focused on what he was playing. That and he hadn't heard this before and it certainly had that special little sound that was unique to Freddie's songs.
Freddie suddenly stopped playing after a mere thirty seconds, letting his hands fall down to his lap before groaning in annoyance. "I've just no idea how to continue off of that. Yet that damned thing won't leave my head so I can't just abandon it."
"Better than anything I could compose." John muttered under his breath, seizing up as he realized he'd spoken his thoughts out loud again, yet this time he'd done it in front of someone, feeling thankful that he hadn't continued into that bad habit of his in which his thoughts would turn into a conversation with himself.
"Oh stop it. That's absolutely nothing." Freddie told him.
"Nothing? You play like Mozart-" He began, ready to compare himself to a five year old with two left hands before Freddie burst out into laughter, wrapping his arms around his stomach and falling forward, just barely avoiding having his head slam down onto the piano.
"Mozart?" He asked, abruptly stopping and reducing his laughing fit to a soft chuckle while a light blush crept up onto his face while John's face flushed a dark red out of admiration in both the older boy's heartwarming laughter and in his ability to make him do so.
"You've three great tracks that you've written." He said, "And you must've come up with something else. I saw you writing for a good half hour one day while we were on our way to a show."
"It...It's nothing..." John replied softly, feeling his voice start to give out now that he was actually starting to talk to him while they were alone in their flat. His heart beat irregularly in his chest, occasionally skipping a beat every time he'd make a movement that would bring him closer to him or actually speak to him. "Hell I've just got the chorus and a bit of the beginning done in roughly a month." And you've done all that in what, an afternoon?
"Ah, go play it. Lemme see what you've got so far." He encouraged, shifting away from his spot and letting him take his place. All the air got knocked out of his lungs at the simple suggestion from the older boy and suddenly it seemed like a nearly impossible feat to simply play the quick tune that he'd written before they had left. He blinked a few times to try and get his focus back together while he tried to think clearly through the haze of emotions that were swarming through his mind and body at the moment. Just don't make yourself look like an idiot. That's it. You wrote this, so you know what to play. John shifted over to where Freddie had been seated and placed his fingers on the required keys, trying his best to recall the notes as fast as possible.
And with that, he started, trying to mimic how Freddie had been playing the piano a mere few minutes ago. Yet all he felt was his hands move lazily across each key, feeling like he was almost slamming down onto each of them to make sure that it'd make the required noise before moving onto the next one. God he felt like some student being evaluated by the strictest teacher in the school, like every mistake he may have made would've earned him some arrogant huff of dissatisfaction or some annoyed comment about how he played like a two year old child. But, Freddie remained silent, watching with what he assumed was an interested light in that lovely brown gaze of his that made his heart jump in his chest.
Then it was over, he reached the last key of what he had so far and lifted his hands off the piano, letting them hover over the keys and nervously looking over to their singer. He felt extremely relieved once he saw him look back up at him, not a hint of disappointment or cockiness in his eyes. Instead what he got made his nerves go ballistic. That wide spread grin of his flashing back at him, Freddie baring that front row of teeth that stuck out from the rest of them and a proud, intrigued sparkle in that brandy colored gaze, as though he had just been witnessed to one of Beethoven's concerts when all he had done was play a simple song that anyone could do in a week.
"Absolutely brilliant Deaky." Freddie told him at last, allowing the final part of his nerves to settle as he felt another wave of infatuation roll through his body, forcing him to try to prevent the blush that was creeping up onto his face as he tried to avoid any direct eye contact with the older boy.
"I-It's nothing magnificent. J-just a little thing." He repeated, trying not to sound in anyway arrogant or too boastful.
"It's amazing. Stop doubting it." He said quickly, bringing his lip over his front teeth as he looked back at the piano. For a moment, John could've sworn he saw an embarrassed red shadow come up his neck, halting at the edge of his jaw, but it quickly faded away as he cleared his throat and began playing with the end of his t-shirt. He wanted to blurt out all sorts responses to the simple compliment, but he felt his throat tighten up as he fought back that annoying flustered feeling that would in turn make him sound like he had forgotten the English language and would babble like some idiot.
After realizing he still had his hands hovering above the piano, he let them fall back down to the seat. As they came back down, he felt his left fall on top of Freddie's right, immediately tensing up as he felt the warmth of his hand hit his, not even registering that it would make him uncomfortable for a split second before he quickly removed it from his, watching as Freddie moved his hand back onto his lap and curling it into a weak fist. This time he couldn't fight back the heavy blush that spread to the rest of his face at the simple touch of the older boy's hand on his. He brought his left up to one of the buttons of his shirt, rolling it around between his thumb and index finger while his right fiddled with one of the belt loops on his jeans. He looked over at Freddie, now seeing a very prominent blush upon his face before he shook his head and faced him again.
"A-as I was saying, it's a great base for the song you're writing. Have you got a title for it yet?" He asked, his right hand now absentmindedly playing with the cuff of his opposing hand's sleeve.
"Uh...Y-yeah, just...just a little thing. I-I'm thinking of c-calling it Spread Your Wings."
"What a lovely title." He replied, that low voice coated with a warm, sweet tone of appreciation that made his stomach tie into a knot.
"Y-yeah, I-I've been trying to w-work on it for some...some time." God you're making a fool out of yourself John. Get out of here before you embarrass him any further. "I-I shouldn't be a bother anymore; you seem to be busy. I-I'll just go work on...on that." He finished, getting up from the small seat and trying to walk calmly enough till he was safe behind the wall leading to the hallway, scurrying back down to his bedroom and closing the door behind him.
His heart hammered against his chest as though it would burst out of its confinements at any given moment. He smiled at me, spoke to me, hell we touched hands! He thought excitedly, his thoughts making him let out a soft longing groan, his body rushing with adrenaline after spending the short while with that devilishly handsome boy out there. As he relaxed against the door, he heard a sudden crash of low chords ring through their flat that was soon followed by a loud groan of annoyance.
But he didn't dwell on it too long for he hadn't felt so giddy in ages, just the thought of touching hands with him made his heart skip a beat and actually doing so made his body buzz with exhilaration. He leapt onto his bed and grabbed one of the pillows, leaning back on the other and letting it rest between his legs as he wrapped his arms around it and rested his face on it. For those few minutes he'd spent with him, he felt as though no harm would ever happen again, like there were no problems that existed for him or would haunt him in the future, leaving him in a long deserved state of peace as he continued to ride the thrill of interacting with his crush.
...
Night came sooner than John had expected, bringing the usual anxiety over whether or not he should act on Roger's offer to talk. He knew it was for the better, just to talk about everything that had happened the night before between the three of them and maybe give him some clarification, if he needed any, on his own situation at the moment. Yet it was just that nervousness of actually saying something and the whole unknowingness of what he would say. He knew in his heart that he wouldn't act negatively about it, so why was he still nervous?
Why am I nervous? You know full well why you're nervous. Last time you mentioned anything regarding this all hell broke loose. But that's not going to happen with them and you know it. That doesn't mean it's not gonna be bad in anyway.
He groaned in annoyance, his mind still buzzing with arguments against the other thoughts that ran around in his head. Roger wasn't one to be too impulsive with anything when discussing stuff, so there was little chance he'd jump down his throat about what he wanted to speak to him about. Hell, he was probably the only one who he could talk to about this since Brian seemed to be about as helpful with this as he was with singing and why on earth would he ever consider talking to Freddie about this. If he could do that the problem might solve itself, or create even more.
Just do it. He told himself one last time before getting up from his seat and tossing the book he had been staring at for the past ten minutes onto the bed. He was hoping that the two of them had gotten back home and that he wouldn't need to wait much longer. Freddie had left again, once again meeting up with his own boyfriend at a nearby restaurant, though he had told him that he'd be back later on. He slowly opened his door and headed down the hallway, halting for a mere moment before heading around the corner. He looked over to the couch, freezing in his place as he saw Brian sat on the sofa with someone on his lap, his hands entangled in their short hair, Brian occasionally bringing his lower body up to press theirs closer together, while they eagerly made out on the couch, Brian's eyes shut and the other person's back to him while their noises drowned out the sound of his approaching footsteps, making the two of them completely oblivious to him.
"B-Brian?" He asked, wondering why on earth he had some mysterious person on his lap instead of Roger and why he was kissing them and not his boyfriend. Brian didn't come off as the cheating type and surely he hadn't grown bored with Roger, had he?
"J-John?" Brian asked, sounding slightly dazed as he separated from the other person, looking over at him without a hint of guilt in his eyes, but instead that usual prudish shine at the fact that he had been caught in a makeout session.
"When he'd, oh...sorry, I thought you went out tonight for some reason."
A blush of embarrassment crept up onto his face at the familiar voice, soon seeing Roger turn around to face him, his eyes contrasting his boyfriend's with the warm glow of happiness in them along with an arrogant smile to match.
"Sorry, I uh...Didn't recognize you f-from the back." He admitted, feeling his face burn as soon as Roger burst into laughter.
"Oh John, it's just a haircut. Got it earlier, though now it just looks like a fluffy, short mess. What? You think Bri was cheating on me with some bloke he'd picked up off the street or something?" He asked, sliding off his partner's lap and laying back on the middle seat of the couch.
Actually I did. "A-anyway, could I talk to you about...about some stuff?" He asked, ignoring Roger's question and moving on from the slightly embarrassing moment.
That light attitude he'd been exhibiting quickly vanished as he put on a serious expression, running his hand along Brian's thigh before getting up and walking over to him. He felt a bit of the stress he'd been feeling leave him now that he knew he'd get to talk to him, this time without Brian there to interrupt like he had done the night before.
"So, what was it?" Roger asked as soon as they got into his room, shutting the door behind them to make sure no one would be able to hear their conversation.
"J-just..." God how do I start this? Just say what happened to you? Or build up to that? Why even mention it? Just, just say something before you look like an idiot again. "Just, how?"
"How I knew? John I told you, I saw your lyrics and had my suspicions-"
"But how'd you get those suspicions? I've no idea how you did that. It's not like I went around silently flirting with any guy or act like some flamboyant, stereotypical gay man." He finally said, feeling a sudden weight build up on his chest at the final part of his sentence. He'd never actually said it out loud. It felt, wrong to say it in such a casual way, like it wasn't important and could be talked about freely with no repercussions.
"There's just somethings I notice. As said, you never once leapt for any groupies that showed up backstage, hell Bri and Fred were the only ones who actually did since they can do something with 'em. And when was the last time you ever flirted with a girl at any bar or brought one back home. You don't go six years without bringing home a girl at least once. Then there's other things, just tiny, little things people do when they're hiding something that I take notice of."
"S-so, it was just those things?"
"Sure, and a bit of luck. Bri wasn't sure when I had told him a few weeks ago and just thought I was tricking him."
Could've been worse. Least he didn't just say anything about hearing me. Well at least specifically what I've said.
"Now I'd like to know something. Why so long?"
The question he had been dreading and hoping that he wouldn't bother to ask the damned thing, yet he should've known better. Of course Roger was going to ask him why he hadn't said anything to anyone there for so long and had been so terrified to come out to any one of them. Well, you walked yourself into this. Just answer him.
"S-simple things. Almost clichéd. Y-you know, no one ever really just...says it."
"John come on." Roger begged, "I want to help and I can't if you don't say shit to me. You can't dodge everything forever."
John bit down onto his bottom lip, looking away from the older boy's wide gaze that was silently imploring him to say something so that he could help out. He just couldn't accept it that he would want to help him so badly after he's done nothing to deserve this from them. You just haven't been on the receiving end of help in a long time. Now someone's actually offering it, someone who's willing to listen to what's happened to you and you know that he's not going to snap.
"I-imagine being told...told that you needed to conform to what everyone else wanted. Told that what you were was...was wrong." He began, pausing to put his thoughts together once again.
"John, we all heard that. We all heard that being anything but straight was wrong, hell it was illegal when we were kids, but it's different now and you see that."
"It...It's not just that. My parents were quite strict with their religious views and made sure that we knew that and being straight and married were a must." Are you really going to mention that to him? "So...I-I tried dating a few girls at my school, well the ones that'd go out with me, and it just never felt personal enough. I hadn't even considered I wasn't straight, it just never crossed my mind."
As he started every little thing that had happened, he found that he couldn't stop. For the first time in his life, he found himself talking about everything that had affected him. Just all the memories that came to the surface and the emotions that accompanied them, and Roger stayed silent through it all, not once interrupting him or arguing with his prior choices. He tried to keep his emotions in check, yet he could tell he wouldn't win that battle as his voice began to quiver when he reached the part that Roger probably cared about.
"Women started becoming less and less attractive to me. I-I just never saw any of them in my life as anything more than a friend. G-guys just seemed so much better. I actually f-felt something if I fancied one o-of them. I'd yet to develop a crush, that's one thing I was spared from, but just the idea that I wanted to be with a guy instead of a girl absolutely t-terrified me."
"So I did the most illogical thing out there and brought it up to my parents...I didn't s-say anything that would indicate that I wasn't interested in women. Just, sort of, dodged it. Asked w-what they'd do if they found out s-someone they knew or liked were g-gay and all hell broke loose. My mom immediately questioned me, demanding to know if I knew anyone who was gay so that she could spread the word that 'i-it' was among them. They spoke about it like it was a plague, that they'd all die if they met someone who was gay. My dad's first reaction was to get physical with them, actually h-harm them because of it. Hell he said if they died it'd be a beneficial thing to society and that we'd be doing God's work by killing them off like we're some kind of p-parasite."
He felt his body start to shake at the memory of just mentioning the gay community to them. Just how volatile they both acted, not even taking a moment to consider that these were actual humans they were talking about, not some object that didn't have any emotions. How quickly his mother had been to ignore any secrecy about coming out and how she would've spread it to everyone, letting them all know that they weren't straight. How his father actually wanted to hurt them for being gay. All his fears filled his mind again. The fear of being kicked out, being beaten senseless by any stranger or even his own family, society ostracizing him because he couldn't feel a damn thing towards a woman. As he felt Roger's hand on his back, the first few tears escaped from his eyes, streaming down along the side of his face and falling onto his shirt, a fairly loud sob following as he brought his knees up to his chest, forming that usual closed position to give himself a false sense of security.
"John, it's alright. You don't need to worry about what they'll say-" Roger began, wrapping his left arm around him to hold his other arm and bringing the other one to hold the one closest to him.
"No you don't get it!" He growled, shaking his hold off of him, "The two people you think you can trust with anything...Anything at all, and they turn into these vicious things over just mentioning it. I didn't even s-say it was me. They would've kicked me out or treated me like some mangy animal that they had to keep there because it was their responsibility, not b-because they cared. I had s-seen and heard what people did to them and it was barbaric and to think that my parents would do the same shit to me if I ever came out. Not to mention that I probably convinced some broad that I wasn't straight 'cause I couldn't get the d-damn thing up for her when I finally got a girl in the bedroom. Just one last ditch effort to convince myself and it fucking b-blew up in my face and that just locked me in there. That place kept me safe since I'd never need to explain anything if I stayed in there and remained quiet. Why say anything ever...You'll just end up hurt." He finished, his voice giving out towards the end as he fought to stay in that seated position, his body desperately wanting to fall back onto the mattress and curl up on top of that instead.
"W-why even bother asking f-for help? They'll j-just turn o-on you in th-the end..." He muttered softly, immediately feeling a gentle hold around his wrist. John blinked the tears out of his eyes, trying to clear his vision as fast as he could so that he could look Roger in the eye without looking like some miserable mess, even though he probably achieved that look long ago.
"John, don't ever think we're gonna turn on you and hurt you. Bri had problems with coming out as well and have any of us turned on him? No. So there's no reason for me, Bri, or Fred to turn on you." He looked away for a moment, a rare, hesitant light passing over his eyes for a moment before he recomposed himself, "And...and don't ever think we won't be there to help you. Especially me. I can't bear seeing any of you hurt, especially like this."
"P-promise me t-this...Please." John managed, the thought forming in his head in as soon as Roger mentioned Freddie's name. He couldn't have him say anything. Not about his sexuality, not about how he 'came out', not about this conversation, nothing. It wasn't that he didn't trust Freddie with any of that information, it'd just make it even more obvious that he was absolutely infatuated with him and the last thing he could deal with at that moment was rejection from him or to confuse his own feelings towards Bret because he decided to mention his own.
"Of course."
"Don't...Don't mention anything I've said or do say to Fred. I...I want to mention it to him when I want to. Just, just keep anything I say between me, you, and Brian." He said softly, his eyes wide in hope and fear that Roger would question him about why he wanted him to remain silent. As much as he wanted to tell him about how he felt about him, John knew he couldn't just blurt it out. The cons of doing so outweighed the chance of the pros and he couldn't risk any of it. Luckily, Roger just nodded in response, running his hand along his back on last time before he spoke.
"It's gonna be fine and you tell who you want to tell. I'll keep quiet and I'll make sure Bri stays quiet too, though I really don't think he'll be the one shouting it from the rooftops."
John soon found him once again in Roger's tight embrace. This time around, he found himself responding quite happily to it, wrapping his arms around their drummer's smaller frame and tightly gripping the back of his shirt and letting out a shaky sigh into the crook of his neck. He opened his mouth to thank him, but all that came out was a helpless squeak as he held on tighter, a long awaited wave of relief crashing over him now that one of his main fears had been proven wrong and instead of being yelled at or have to worry about anyone else figuring out about him without his consent, he knew that he was going to stay quiet and let him do it at his own pace and for the first time in his life, he felt that he'd be able to handle something with some kind of support.