The days to finish the album came and went and before they knew it, it was out of their hands. They played every note they could play and sing every lyric that could be sung. All that was left was for them to was let the people behind the scenes tweak what needed to be tweaked and push all the buttons that needed to be pushed.
Brian and Freddie were happy to return home after being away for so long. Touring was one thing, but being left on a farm for nearly three weeks just seemed so cruel. Roger felt terrible, as the whole reason for the extra week was so they could help rattle his brain around.
It worked a little bit, with pieces coming back to him in little bits, but in the end, there was still so much missing. However, they couldn't very well stay there forever. Brian had a wife to return to and Freddie had his cats.
Roger and John returned to their far too large home, the place practically echoing as they settled their luggage down. The first few days back was strange, though Roger blamed that on himself. The last time they had been at the mansion, Roger thought they were glorified roommates. Now it seems they did, in fact, share a room, though that was another added on the thing that John chose to keep from him.
He tried to explain himself, insist that he didn't want to just thrust the truth onto the man, especially since he needed so much time to take it all in. John cleared out all in his things from the master bedroom, moving down the hall to one of the spare rooms to give Roger the chance to adjust it the house.
Now as Roger sat in that bed that was far too large for just one person and placed his newly washed clothing into a half-empty closet, it was making a bit more sense to him now.
He had crept into John's apparent bedroom, hoping to find him for a bit of a chat, but it came up empty. Unable to stop the curiosity, he took a look around. The room was small but comfortable. John had obviously made do with what he had, though he had to admit, it didn't look like a bedroom, but rather a hotel room that one has been staying in for an extended amount of time.
The bed was neatly made and his clothes were folded ever so carefully. John liked to have order and it showed and Roger couldn't help but smile at the idea of him taking his time to make sure each and every jumper was carefully pressed when it returned from the cleaners.
He returned to look into the bathroom; the image of John lay bleeding on the ground haunting his mind. In the days after his accident, Roger pestered John endlessly, refusing to allow him to do anything on his own. John, who apparently wasn't used to others doing things for him, fought Roger every step of the way, but the blond refused.
Memory loss or not, Roger was his boyfriend and there was no way he was going to allow John to raise a single figure if Roger was there to do it for him. And any time John tried to stop him, Roger would remind him of all the time they had lost and how Roger was merely trying to make up for it all.
Roger knew he was playing dirty and didn't give a single damn about it.
Roger pulled open one of the draws curiously, finding a small collection of framed photographs. All of which contained pictures of himself and John at various times of their lives. Some when they were younger and their hair was longer. Others that seemed more recent, though they looked just as handsome.
Roger wondered why they had been hidden away, but the point was obvious. If he had seen them, it would have blown his cover. The truth would have been out there and Roger would of have a lot more on his plate to deal with. It was painful, he knew, but deep down John was trying to help Roger.
But now, the truth was out there and Roger found no point of having these pictures locked away like they were. Gathering them up, he went around the mansion, trying his best to place them where he thought they might have previously belonged.
One was settled onto of the mantle, just above the fireplace, while others were hung up on the wall. Another he had stuck on the nightstand by his bed and the final piece was hung in the music room, on the far wall facing his drum kit.
Returning up the stairs, he found John gazing at one of the pictures in the sitting room, baffled by how it had gotten there. "I don't know if that was where it belonged, but I thought it looked good."
"You went through my room?" John asked though he didn't sound angry.
"Technically, it's not really your room. Just the place you've been sleeping while I settled with everything inside my head."
"You're still adjusting to the fact that you're in a relationship with a man, do you really think sharing a bed would help you cope?"
"Quite like ripping off the bandaid, isn't it? Hard and fast, better to thrust yourself into it?" Roger asked, hissing at out ridiculous he sounded. He ran his fingers along his collarbone, rubbing the nerves of skin under his fingers. "I was hoping to have a bit of a chat about all this, actually."
John gave a warnful glance, bobbing his head in agreement. "Oh. All right."
"I meant what I said. I don't want to just walk away from this, but it's not like we can just carry on where we left off."
"Right. Of course."
"I was thinking, perhaps we could go on a bit of a date and get to know one another? I know you know me, but aside from the basics, I don't know you that well. I did, I'm sure of it, but I'd like to get to know you again."
Roger was rambling now and he was sure he sounded like an absolute mad man, but he didn't care very much. John was shifting on his feet, his hips popping out in a way that caught Roger's attention without the man even realizing it.
"A date?" He questioned. "We've never gone on a date."
"How is that possible?" Roger asked, his eyes narrowing. "Five years together and I've never taken you out?"
"We didn't exactly start out as romantic, Roger," John explained carefully. "At first, it was just fun. We were messing around, trying to find our place in the world. I was locked away in the closet and you were lonely. Half the time we'd go out in hopes of finding girls only to sneak away and wank one another off in the alleyways behind the pubs."
"Sounds hot, to be honest," Roger admitted with a tiny shrug.
"It was. In the beginning, it was just sex. We took pleasure out of being together physically, but you were still with other girls and I tried being with them too, but in the end, I preferred men."
A swell of jealous came into Roger's chest, causing him to huff a bit. "And you were with men while with me?" The idea of John being with someone else made the blond feel tight and annoyed, his arms crossing over his chest defensively.
"We weren't exclusive until seventy-four," John told him carefully. "After that, we sort of realized what we wanted was each other.
"If we've only been exclusive for three years, why do we count five?"
John smiled softly at the question, tilting his head back to look directly into Roger's eyes. "Because. You told me the moment you kissed me was the day you knew we'd be together. So you count that was the day this all started."
"So I kissed you first?" Roger asked, like the idea of taking the first step towards something. "Where?"
"In the back of the van," John admitted. "It was after rehearsal. We had gotten bumped from a venue and were having a drink as we wallowed in our sadness."
"Don't tell me our first kiss was a drunken mess."
"We couldn't afford to get drunk. We shared a beer and bitched about our lives. I confessed I didn't plan on staying in the band after I graduated and you practically threw a tantrum right there."
Roger rolled his eyes. He knew he could be a dramatic little shit at times, but throwing a tantrum over someone leaving the band seemed rather off. Then again, from what Brian said about them going through bass player after bass player, maybe it really isn't that surprising.
"So I kissed you, and then what?"
"We kissed some more. We kissed a lot before finally deciding to just get the shagging over with."
"Did that happen in the van as well?"
"Yes, but not on the first time. Our first time was in the flat we all shared." John confessed.
"In that tiny hole in the wall?"
John hummed, smiling to himself now. "Brian and Freddie went into town. I dragged you into my room and allowed you to . . . pop my cherry, as the Americans say." John said, looking oh so very proud of himself.
Roger was practically beaming now, imagining himself following John down like a lost puppy, oh so very eager to finally have some physical activity with the fellow he had been snogging for God knows how long.
"So we just kissed and shagged for two years before finally realizing we wanted more?"
"Basically."
"What was it that made us see the light?"
John thought for a long moment, looking away from Roger to gaze up at the picture of the two of them together. They were seated together, wrapped up in warm, white bathrobes after a terribly long photoshoot that took ages to finish up.
"It just wasn't worth it anymore. Pretending like being together wasn't something we wanted. We would go out and flirt with girls but were more content with returning back and being on our own. We didn't want groupies or long distance relationships. We didn't want to settle for people just to put on a show. You wanted me and I wanted you. Simple as that."
"And now we have that," Roger replied quietly. "Or at least we did before my selfish heart got the best of us."
John shook his head, turning to step closer to the blond. "You weren't being selfish, Roger. Choosing to stay a secret was a conscious choice, one we both agreed on in the early days of our relationship when we didn't even know if we were going to last or not."
"But we did." Roger reminded him. He reached out, taking John's good hand in his own. He lifted it up, lacing their fingers together as he rests their joint hands against his chest. "I'm still here, John. I know there is something there between us. I can feel it. Just give me a chance to prove it to you."
John watched him, those green eyes shimmering with absolute delight. "Okay," He answered.
Roger had to fight back the urge to smother the brunet with kisses, instead choosing to send him off so they could both change for their apparent date.
The two had gone back and forth between what a date should be, with John saying they should just go out for some tea, while Roger insisted that tea was not a fucking date. John has mentioned that sometimes when they went out into the country during recordings, they would turn it into a bit of a getaway and would take long drives and grab whatever food they could.
Roger took this as a pretty decent idea and urged John to hand over the keys to his car. It would be the first time he drove since the accident and while Roger knew John had the utmost faith in him, he understood his hesitation. Still, he gave the key to the blond and followed him into the nice but not exactly flashy car that was in his name.
Roger felt good, being behind the wheel again. He didn't remember a thing about the accident and he took that as a challenge to not worry about how his driving was. Roger had no real clue where they lived so he just drove along the roads, enjoying the view as they went. He found that half the time John was either looking at him or looking out the window, enjoying their moment together.
They had grabbed food in town, which seemed to be a bit of a mistake as both were recognized as soon as they got out of the car. Roger played it off cool, with John handling their take away. Roger may still be missing a few screws but he would smile and put on a show as good as Freddie could.
After grabbing their meals, they hurried the hell out of there, slipping back into the car and off to a place where they could relax. Roger was sure that there was a place they could go; drop their names and have a seat far out of sight so they could be together for a real date. Until then, they'd deal with their makeshift picnic, hiding behind an old tree and John's car as they laid out their jackets and had their splendor, the gentle radio playing on behind them.
The chill was still in the air, with spring right around the corner. Roger froze suddenly, realizing the fateful day that he had completely forgotten about. "Valentines Day." He spoke suddenly. The day had come to pass and John had mentioned that the holiday was one of Roger's favorite now.
It was meant to be celebrated with the one you loved and Roger had no idea if he and John were even in the same room when the day came.
"Last year you bought be four dozen roses," John told him with a cheeky smile. "It was ridiculous. You set them up in individual vases and set them about throughout the house. I kept tripping over them."
"Why roses? Seems a bit cliche for me."
Roger had never been a full-on romantic but surely he was better than just flowers and candies.
"It is. Once an article was written on the band. They asked us our favorite things. Food and flowers and other unimportant things like that. I said a rose was my favorite flower and you refused to let it go. You said it was unoriginal and boring. Ever since then, you've been giving them to me."
"I was a very unique boyfriend, wasn't I?" Roger laughed, leaning back against the car.
"One of a kind," John answered, turning his head to look off into the sunset.
Roger was pleased to know that he had done something right over the past few years. Gone was the young lad that would sleep with girls and forget their names. In his place was a man with a loyal, steady relationship that had been going on longer than most marriages.
The song on the radio ended and slowly transitioned into another. It was fairly familiar to Roger and by the way, John smiled and shook his head, it didn't take much thinking to realize it was one of theirs.
And what an odd feeling that was! Being in a bad was one thing, but to hear your song play so casually on the radio, to know that you really truly made it. Roger could burst from his seams at the very thought!
"By far the most romantic song we have to offer," John admitted. "One of our favorites as well. Freddie wrote it."
"Impressive. Sounds so fun yet the lyrics are bloody heartbreaking."
The music video had been painfully simple. Just them singing the song. Nothing wild or dramatic. Just them doing what they did best. Brian had mentioned that it was one of the last music videos they had done and it turned out to be one of their favorites. Roger was proud of that fact. Proud of the work they had done up to this point.
"That's Freddie for you. He knows all about heartbreak." John mentioned, his good arm wrapping around his knee as he leaned back casually against the side of the car.
"No one knows heartbreak like us, John," Roger argued quietly.
Freddie was a gifted songwriter, but no rhythm or lyric could ever hold a candle to the pain Roger and John had done through in the past several months.
Roger once again caught himself watching John, taking in the way he carried himself and the absolute beauty that was his mere existence. How he had gotten a guy like John to give him a shot was beyond his understanding. After all, Roger had never been questioning, never thought he'd ever want to fool around with another man. And yet it seemed John had been everything to him and vice verse.
"John," he called out, catching the attention of the man. Those grayish green eyes sparkled in the changing colors of the sun and Roger found himself unable to stop his moving forward.
The kiss was careful and calculated. Roger didn't remember much from kissing aside from all the times back in uni when he was just dumb and drunk and stupid. He always liked kissing. It was a good distraction from the things around him and John had gotten quite good at during his teenage years. In the back of his fuzzy minds, he thought of all the girls he had snogged without care back in university; batting his bright blue eyes and pouting his bright red lips.
However, Roger wasn't a silly uni student any longer but rather a grown man kissing another grown man.
When he pulled away, he was left smiling, finding that while kissing John was far different from kissing pretty teenage school girls, he quite liked it. John was holding back ever so slightly, perhaps for Roger's sake, but Roger knew when someone was enjoying themselves around him.
"You know, I think I might actually remember doing this with you," Roger mentioned as they settled back against the car. Roger reached out freely, tugging at the sleeve of John's shirt to bring him closer. "I could use a bit of a reminder though."
The wheels inside the brunet's head began turning and then promptly stopped when he realized just exactly what Roger was saying. "Cheeky bastard," John muttered, his smile absolutely beaming as he pulled Roger back into him, their lips crashing together for another eager kiss.