John's P.O.V.
"I'm so happy for you two!" Freddie excitedly chattered, and couldn't help but occasionally squeal, as we were walking down the street towards the club. "You look so cute together! When I think back about it- it was so obvious! How could I have not noticed?!"
Although it was nearly an hour from when we saw Rog and Bri kissing in our dressing room, he didn't keep his mouth shut for a second. Well to be honest, I was still pretty excited on the inside myself. Who would have ever imagine this?
"Thanks, I guess," Brian chuckled, blushing, clear uncomfortableness shining from him, but the singer wasn't willing to stop just yet.
"Oh that bitch Ester, who does she even think she is?" Fred moved to another theme.
"have no idea," Brian sighed. "Let's just not talk about her anymore okay?"
"Ugh, that's definitely fine with me," the singer scoffed, and suddenly we were standing in front of the club.
"After you," Freddie openedthe door for me, and soon enough, we were all inside, ordering drink after drink.
Roger's P.O.V.
Esthers familiar figure walking through the door somehow cleared my mind, and pulled me back to reality. She seemed to cause such strong emotions rise in me that for a little while I got out from my numbness. All the anger she made me feel throughout the whole time I knew her all came back and United into final great rage, and I was unstoppable.
But just as soon as she left, I uncontrollably dived back into the hypnosis. I felt as if I was in a different time and space zone, in a different dimension, in a capsule, separated from the surrounding world. The image I saw in front of my eyes kept on twitching, moving from transparent to opaque, colors shining and flashing. My head was spinning, but I couldn't worry less. I was tied up inside, I nearly didn't feel any of my extremities anymore. Instead, I felt as if I could feel every single hair growing on my scalp and see every single molecule in the air.
I have no idea how I changed into my casual clothes, or how we got out of the backstage and to the club. I don't even remember anyone suggesting we visit a club. What I somehow noticed, was that I was currently sitting on a bar stool behind the counter, hardly managing not fall to the ground.
There was a shot placed in front of me and out of the blue I was poked into the shoulder. I looked to my left, John's face jumping up on me with a wide smile on.
"Cheers!" He yelled into my ear, his voice echoing in my head long after he downed his drink. I wrapped my fingers around my glass, looking down at it, amazed by the rainbows running over the liquid. Then, as if my life mattered on it, I brought it up to my lisp and downed it whole in one gulp.
The world around me acted as if it was speeded up. Everyone was moving too fast for it to be possible. The beats of the music were way too fast and intense. The breaths which escaped my mouth were were too fast and shallow.
"Come on and dance with me," a voice filled my head, resonating in my brain. I narrowed my eyes, searching for the someone who was taking to me.
I stared into his face. I didn't recognize this guy. Who was he? He seemed very familiar to me. Then, the black space in my memory was filled in. Brian. Brian. It was Brian. Of course. Brian.
Yeah let's go.
I leaned against him and I was practically carried by him away, my legs hanging down to the ground loosely. The whole room was spinning, all the lights founding together, my nose being filled by his unique, heavy, narcotic aroma. His pink lips widened into a smile, the red blush over his cheeks and nose. His laughter was ringing in my ears, being the only sound I heard while I was gasping for air and shaking in his strong arms.
The door fell shut and I stepped forward, supporting his chin with my hands, kissing him deeply, sticking my tongue in his mouth. He joined in, moving in sync. I felt as he took off my coat, sliding his hands underneath it, examining every inch of my back through my shirt with his fingers. And he clearly wanted more. Was pleading for more. And I did too.
I tangled my hands into his hair, pressing his face closer to mine, him moving his hands to my chest instead, blindfolded, opening the buttons on my shirt one by one.
Brian suddenly pulled away, gasping for air, and ripping my shirt open. I realized I was running our breath as well. I used this short while to unzip his coat and with his help throw it to the ground. However, he didn't allow me to continue on with his shirt underneath it, stopping me by an inpatient, desirable kiss.
He turned me around, pressing my back roundly against the wall behind me. He broke the kiss, line of saliva still connecting us, but he didn't bother to wipe it off. Neither did I.
He placed a kiss on my neck, making my head fall back and a silent moan escape my lips. He continued on down to my collarbones, leaving a wet trail behind him, with occasional hickeys on the way.
Afterwards, he returned back, licking my soft skin and kissing me again. Our tongues danced in sync as I wrapped my hands around his neck, feeling the warmth oh his body and hearing his rapid heartbeat. Or was the heartbeat mine?
I laid down on the bed, on my back, gazing into Brian's beautiful eyes.
The sound of a belt buckle being opened woke me up from this beautiful dream and I shot up to sitting position, covered in cold sweat immediately, shaking and panicking. The image of the guy who broke into my house that one night and of all the things that he did to me suddenly appeared right in front of my eyes. I remembered it all perfectly, obviously- it wasn't something which could be easily forgotten. But all my memories were so clear, it felt is if I was living through it again.
I inhaled sharply, looking around and revealing Brian sitting right next to me. I was with him. I was safe. Everything was alright.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, between gasps for air.
"It's alright," he assured me silently, wrapping his hands around me in a comforting warm hug. He understood. "I love you."
"I love you too," I replied silently, my eyes watering as I blankly stared into the wall.
Because of everything. Every single thing I've ever regretted in my whole life. All the stupid mistakes I've did, all the times I've let myself be lurked down from the path, all the times I just kept on messing up my life, leading me up to here, alcoholism and finally drugs.
And once again, I found myself asking, what have I become?
————
I woke up to the the horrid sounds of someone coughing and vomiting. I sat upright gasping for air in surprise, my eyes wide. I felt normal. Finally, I really did. I could see properly, I could hear properly and most of all I actually felt my body and could move actively. Thanks god, the hallucinations were finally gone and I felt normal again. Well despite the horrid headache.
"Brian?" I called, getting out of the bed and walking towards the bathroom in our shared room.
"Yeah?" Came groggily from behind the closed door.
"Are you alright?"
"Guess."
"May I come in?"
"Well if you want, I won't-" he hiccuped, "be stopping you."
I gently pushed the door open, my gaze falling on the tall lad folded next to the opened toilet lid.
"Hey," I said with a sad worried smile as a wave of sympathy waved over me.
"Hey," he smirked, leaning his head against the wall, terribly pale with bags under his eyes.
I fell down to my knees, wrapping my hands around him softly.
"Oh my poor Brian," I mumbled.
"Why do I even drink?" He groaned. "Ugh, it's just disguising."
I chuckled sadly. "You're right there," I stroked his hair with my fingers and he flashed me a beautiful smile of his. "You know what? I'll go and make you some tea."
"That would be lovely," he got out of himself."
"Alright," I kissed his cheek and got up, making my way to the kitchen. But as soon as I stepped out of the door of the bathroom, my stomach made a loop and nausea hit me out of nowhere with the same intensity as a brick wall. I stopped, all the color disappearing from my face, my stomach swirling.
"Okay maybe not," I turned around. "Clear the toilet!"
————-
It was the night of our last but one gig on this tour. I was sitting in our dressing room in the backstage, frowning, and a nervously tapping with my foot on the floor. I've had my three shots of vodka and a can of beer. I was sure it was enough. I wasn't nauseous, my head wasn't spinning and I wasn't sweating in panic. But there was still something. I still felt this weird kind of nervousness inside me, my mind unable to concentrate on a single thing. I kept on rubbing my hands, my throat sore and tongue itching. Was I ill? No I sure was not. I felt completely healthy just- there was something missing.
My mouth was filling with saliva as my mind flew to that one thing which's taste I was missing and desiring so much. I don't get rid of that box.
No. No I couldn't. I don't need it. Just no. That was not an option.
My eyes flew up to the clock on the wall. We should come up at stage in about ten minutes. The second hand of the clock was moving dreadfully slow.
I gulped, wiping off sweat which started forming on my forehead.
On the other hand, it would only be tonight. I would never do it again. After the tour ends, I will get a therapist or a doctor and- no. No. No. It's not an option. No. Never. I promised it to myself.
I inhaled deeply, leaning over my knees and staring into the ground, desperately trying to push all of the despicable thoughts out of my head. But this need was torturing me. I couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop realizing how much I wanted to take it.
Just for today. Never again. There were only two shows left to the end of the tour. I will then get rid of it.
I jumped on my feet, stepping into the aisle in front of our room, which was fortunately empty and I could be alone for a little while. I reached into the pocket of my jacket, pulling out that box. I don't even look at it, I just opened it as quick as possible and took one pill out before shoveling the container back into my pocket. For just a second I saw the bright yellow color before the pill made its way down my throat.
dRaMa
you're welcome. I know you want it.
Excuse me, my dirty minded amigos (ehm, roysi, ehm jAiNa) I ain't writing no smut