Chapter Text
It came suddenly. Like a pang in his chest, all at once and all too much, gripping him tightly and binding him to the bed. The sun filtered through the blinds of his window. It must have been nearing eight o'clock in the morning, the winter sun just barely over the horizon. Brian did not know why, but he could not stand it. Pulling the covers over his head, he closed his eyes tightly and tried to ignore the dull pain behind his eyes and the ache in his chest, surely a result of staying up late studying and nothing else.
But something was off. Something was very off. The darkness did not soothe his aching body, thus he removed the covers to reveal his chest, covered in a thin sheet of cold sweat. Evidence of the strange nightmares, being hunted and being revealed as the fraud he was. He had no talent. He had nothing to give.
Actually, Brian knew that was not true. The way his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar was unparalleled to any of his competitors. The sounds he managed to create were special, moved right through your body and were accompanied perfectly by the voice of the frontman Freddie and the drummer - also his roommate - Roger. Sure, Brian had a lot to give. Brian was not worthless.
At this moment, none of those thoughts comforted him. It was as if something had come and ripped out part of him. Now that Brian thought back, perhaps he had been overworking himself. Staying until closing hour at the library followed by a vigorous band practice that ended at ten o'clock followed by a few pints of lager at the pub to drown out the emptiness that was growing bigger inside him. Working hard and getting nothing out of it. No record deals, no album, no master's degree and surely no romance in his life. Sure, there was the occasional one night stand. Even a few dates here and there. They never lasted, however. Brian would say the wrong thing. He would be unable to get it up for her. He would wake up on a morning just like this one, emptiness threatening to spill over, watching the sun dance over her beautiful features only to find -
He felt nothing.
The emptiness had never spilled over, though. Brian had been keeping it in check, keeping himself busy by volunteering at the animal shelter or studying physics way above of his level or playing the guitar until his fingers looked like a mess of bruises and torn cuticles. Sometimes, he would keep himself busy watching Roger bring home girl after girl while he himself sat on the sofa, bitterly drinking a beer and listening to Jimi Hendrix in an attempt to drown out the moans and the bang of the headboard against the wall. He had been keeping the emptiness in check. It had never spilled over.
Not until this day.
Brian had never been a happy person. As a child he would worry excessively. Would he pass his exams? Would his mother burn down the kitchen when she left the stove for a cigarette? Would his friends like his new haircut? Would he ever find love?
At sixteen, he had decided that he would probably never find love, and he was okay with that. His girlfriend bored him. Anna had been a challenge to get to. She was beautiful, mature for her age and if the rumours were correct, she was not one to hold back when it came to putting out. With just a bit of luck and the encouragement of his friends, he had gotten ahold of her, cornering her at house party and smirking down at her as she wrapped her lithe arms around his neck. He had straightened his hair, put on a nice shirt, and thought he was ready.
It turned out that the rumours were correct, but whatever she did, lapping at him like a hound, he could not keep his mind on her beautiful auburn locks or her wet lips, sticky with pink lipstick wrapped around him. Brian could not put his finger on what was wrong. Perhaps his attention span was not in top shape. Perhaps he just did not like her, but how could he not? He had heard the way his best friend, Tim, had cheered when he saw him walk into school with her on his arm. She was way out of his league, and he did not want her.
She bored him, so he broke up with her and accepted his fate as somebody who would never find somebody to love.
Worry gnawed at him every single day, until one day at the age of twenty-two, he had woken up with a hole in his chest. Something was missing from him. This was a feeling he had learned to recognise, accept and work through enough to keep him going. It was around that time he found Roger with his undeniably fiery nature, sharp tongue and quick wits. Brian had never before met somebody like him, so intelligent and sharp, yet so unbelievably idiotic. It seemed like every day he would see Roger with a new girl, the next one equally as gorgeous as the last, all of them seemingly worshipping at Roger’s feet. Roger had kept a list, Brian found out one drunken evening, of all the girls he would bed. It was a long list. Brian had shaken his head, reminded Roger of all the diseases he was probably spreading, to which Roger promptly reminded him that he did in fact study Biology, and he was good at it too.
Roger was strong-willed. Stubborn. Passionate, Brian found out when Roger had read a particularly upsetting article and was writing a very angry - though well-worded - letter to the magazine.
It was amusing, Brian found, to live with Roger. He had been renting a two bedroom apartment in central London, much too big for a lonely person such as himself, now that Tim had moved out. Roger had been sleeping on the living room sofa of a friend named Freddie since moving to London and had gotten quite tired of this mysterious roommate’s hobby of adopting every single stray cat he came across. Brian happily took him in.
Roger was handsome. It was as plain as day. Brian could definitely see what the flocks of girls saw in him. Those big, blue eyes and that cheeky smile that seemed to always be on his lips, even during his bursts of anger that left the walls of the flat vibrating with tension.
Brian still worried. Sometimes he still woke up with a hole in his chest. But he never let the emptiness spill. He never let Roger get as much as a glimpse.
The emptiness was still there, an hour after Brian had woken up. The only reason he knew the time was because he had gotten up from bed to close the dark curtains fully, and had happened to glance at the alarm by his bed. Apparently, it was a monday. Brian had classes on mondays, but that fact did not fully register as he groggily climbed back into bed, pulling the covers neatly over his thin frame and closing his eyes, allowing himself to nod off into a comfortable bliss, away from the hole and the bright white winter day.
He woke back up and glanced at the time. It was nearing three o’clock, which meant classes were almost over, and he needed not worry about them any longer. He figured that he could take a day off, as he had been working tirelessly everyday for about a month.
Now, however, there was a more urgent matter at hand. The bathroom was very far away, and between here and there, there was a cold hallway. His bladder was uncomfortably full and he knew he needed to get up sooner or later, so he slid out of bed, putting on a pair of stupid bunny slippers Roger had given him as a Christmas gift and wrapping a navy blue robe around his body.
When he left the bedroom, he was surprised to find Roger sitting on the living room sofa, a newspaper in hand and eyebrows furrowed while his lips moved as he read the words on the page. Roger looked up, apparently equally surprised to find Brian at home.
“Oh,” Roger said, looking up from the newspaper to take a look at what Brian was wearing. “I didn’t even know you were home. Didn’t you have classes today?”
It took more than a few moments for Brian to fully register what Roger had said, as if he had never heard English in his whole life. When he did finally understand what Roger had actually said, he straightened his back and shook his head. “No, they were, uh, cancelled.”
Roger nodded and went back to reading his newspaper with great interest. Brian shuffled past him, headed for the bathroom and locked himself in before relieving himself. The sink was dirty, he thought as he began to wash his hands with great care, making sure every single part was clean and free of germs. Looking in the mirror, he examined his face for any imperfections, then deciding that he looked decent, except that he perhaps needed a shave and a shower.
The shower must have been longer than he thought, because soon Roger was banging on the door, insisting that he come out now because he needed to take a piss. Brian ignored this, taking his sweet time drying his hair and his body before once more examining himself in the mirror. Now that he was shirtless, he saw something red and harsh on his chest. A scab, surely from one of the animals at the shelter, but Brian frowned at the sight and leaned over the sink to take a closer look. It was almost completely loose, just one little tug would do the trick, Brian thought and began picking at it. Without warning, a single drop of blood ran down his chest.
“Ow, fuck,” he whispered to himself and grabbed a tissue to wipe up the blood. He stared at it for a moment, a moment too long, long enough to feel a strange, unfamiliar feeling creep up his insides, into the big empty hole in his chest.
“Hurry the fuck up!” Roger yelled, accompanied by a few harsh bangs on the door to snap Brian out of the haze. “Band practice!”
Brian cursed to himself. He had forgotten about band practice, much unlike himself. Usually, he would be the one nagging Roger to finish up, get ready, be quick so they could finally get going. Brian blamed this temporary lapse of reason on the fact that he was stressed out, and that this definitely had not been his day so far. He shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling from before, setting it aside to deal with it some other time.
There was no air in the room. Freddie was up the walls, yelling about every single mistake any of the other members made, glaring every time the new bass player (Gary? Gareth?) said something and quite literally giving Roger the finger when he suggested Freddie was a perfectionist. Brian was more out of it than ever before, finding it hard to concentrate on anything Freddie was saying, Roger and Freddie’s screaming match exhausting him to no end. Most of all, it seemed that his fingers would not obey his mind. He knew he was playing it too slow. He knew it, but he could not will his body to cooperate.
In the middle of a song, Roger threw his drumsticks at the wall, a frustrated yell echoing in the tiny practice room.
“For fuck’s sake, Brian!” he yelled, causing Freddie to throw up his arms in defeat and turn away to get a glass of water. “Try to keep up, will you?”
Brian did not have the energy to fight back, but he did. “I was playing it right. You’re the one speeding up.”
“Oh, you think? You ever heard of ‘rhythm section’? I can’t fucking-”
“Okay, OKAY, children!” Freddie joined in the argument, effectively silencing Roger. “We’ve all had a long day. How about we head to the pub and forget this. It’s only monday once a week after all.”
“You know what?” Gary (Gareth?) said, making Freddie roll his eyes again before he turned to him, a hand on his hip, patiently waiting for what he was to say. “You all are neurotic. I quit.”
“Your loss, darling,” Freddie said and waved him away, not even giving him a second glance as he packed up his bass guitar and hurried out of the room. Freddie sighed and looked between Brian and Roger, who were both looking at Freddie with amused looks. “Let’s go get hammered and forget we just lost our fifth bass player in a row. My treat.”
Brian had had too much to drink. It had started with a few pints. Nothing much, and Brian could handle it. Then, Freddie had treated them to shots. He even cheered Roger on as he chugged his beer, even though he knew that he would be the one to take care of Roger when he was too drunk to walk home, and tomorrow when Roger was dealing with a horrible hangover. It had happened too many times. Perhaps Roger would find a nice girl tonight to do that for him instead, Brian pondered and looked around the room to see a few girls looking in their direction. One of them in particular was looking at Roger, with Roger looking back, a lazy smirk on his face as he winked at her.
The emptiness from the morning and afternoon had almost completely disappeared, but at that moment it all came back, punching a foot long hole in his chest. Whether it was because the girls were obviously only interested in Roger or because of something else, Brian could not tell. What he knew was that it caused something within him to drop. Unfortunately, Roger almost did too. Brian was quickly by his side, steadying him and keeping him up, an arm around his shoulder as Freddie stifled a giggle.
“I think it’s time you head home, darling,” Freddie said and stood up from his chair, taking over from Brian and leading Roger out of the pub.
“But I think that girl wants to fuck me,” Roger whined.
“Don’t we all,” Freddie said before petting Roger on the head and walking out into the cold, Brian following closely. Roger looked happy to be out, however, as he realised it was snowing and the white flakes were landing on his face and melting upon impact. Freddie shook his head and turned to Brian. “I’m getting a taxi. Are you fine to walk him home?”
“Yeah, it’s no problem,” Brian said, forcing a smile.
“Well then, I’ll leave you two. Have fun carrying him home,” Freddie said, gesturing towards Roger before laughing and walking off to find a taxi.
Brian sighed as he watched Roger catching snowflakes in his open mouth for a moment, astounded that this was the same person who wore reading glasses whilst reading the newspaper over a cup of tea in the morning, grunting angrily when he read something he deemed inaccurate.
“Are you going to take me home or what?” Roger said suddenly.
Brian nodded. “Come on.”
They walked in silence, Roger no longer wobbling like he had in the pub, and for a moment Brian wondered if it had all been an act. Brian was drunk, yes, but not nearly as drunk as Roger had seemed, and that said something considering Roger was quite a bit of an experienced drinker. The quiet air was comfortable, snowflakes dancing around their heads, and the peace was only interrupted by an animated huff and Roger dramatically pulling his leather jacket tighter over his shoulders.
Brian felt Roger nudging at his side, not budging before they were walking in unison, their sides pressed tightly together and Roger resting his head on Brian’s shoulder. “It’s cold as hell,” Roger said. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“Of course,” Brian said, even putting an arm around Roger’s shoulder and pulling him closer. As if the little bit of body heat he provided was magical, Roger immediately stopped shivering.
“Careful,” Roger warned. “Don’t want anyone thinking anything weird about us.”
The walk home in the dark winter night had been comfortable, but under the bright hallway light, the silence turned awkward as they distanced themselves from each other, taking their jackets off, Brian putting his neatly on a hook while Roger threw his on the floor. It was sober. It was pressing. There was no eye contact, and Brian avoided it as best as he could.
He sat down for a while, untying his shoes. Only then did it hit him. He had classes in only a few hours, he did not study at all today and the guilt of missing those god forsaken classes finally caught up to him.
“Fuck,” he whispered, mostly to himself as he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for just a moment to ease the anxiety that was crashing upon him in waves.
“What?” Roger said, looking up from where he was currently untying his own shoes. Sparkly and pink. It was a momentary distraction, enough for him to forget that he had been asked what had brought on this sudden curse word.
“I didn’t study today,” he said and locked eyes with Roger.
Roger chuckled, smile lingering on his lips as he replied. “You need to stop worrying so much.”
Brian had no idea what to say. What Roger had said was true, but it was never that easy. If he could stop worrying so much, he would have done so at the age of ten. Sometimes Roger’s easy going nature got on his nerves, as if Roger had no idea about the demands of the real world or the dangers of letting go for a second too long. All Brian could do was stay silent, maintaining that awful, pressed eye contact and watching the cheeky smile disappear from Roger’s face.
Roger stood up straight, looking away for a second, almost as if he was figuring out what to say, fully aware that any wrong step would set Brian off. “You’ve been off all day.”
“Yeah,” Brian said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”
Brian let go of some of the tension in his shoulders, slumping forward a tiny bit and looking up at Roger through a few curls that happened to be draped over his face. He quickly put them back in their place as Roger came closer, standing at Brian’s side, hand reaching up to where Brian had placed the stray curl. Fingers met with dark hair. It was not uncharacteristic of Roger to do something like that. He had always been a very physical person, but somehow this felt different. Brian leaned into the touch, closing his eyes when he felt Roger shift. Roger was in front of him, Brian knew, the hand now gone from his hair but a heavy presence at his front. Roger kneeled in front of him and only then did Brian open his eyes.
“You can talk to me if something is up,” Roger said and Brian could not help but chuckle at how sweet Roger was for once.
“Why are you being so nice?”
Roger tsked and rolled his eyes. “Can’t exactly ignore this fucking cloud hanging over you. It brings me down. So stop it.”
Once again, there was that uncomfortable, overbearing eye contact. Roger’s long lashes were wet with melted snowflakes, his lips parted in the slightest, something desperate in his eyes. Then Roger leaned in. No warning, no signs a head, a spur of the moment idea. The gentlest kiss was placed upon Brian’s lips and his eyes fluttered shut without him willing them to. He was stunned, unable to move, unable to protest, unable to even process what was happening. He only came to his senses when he felt Roger’s hand on his cheek. Brian snapped right out of it, eyes flying open and pulling away quicker than Roger had been able to pull in.
“What the fuck?” he said and forced a small chuckle, looking at Roger in stunned silence.
Roger shrugged. “Sorry. Just felt right.”
“You are so weird, you know?” Brian said, unable to stop himself from laughing a bit.
Roger got up from the floor. “One of my perks.” Brian sat and watched Roger leave, shutting his bedroom door, and realising Roger had not brushed his teeth before bed. Right then, it felt like the most important thing in the world.