Brian's P.O.V.

John, Roger and myself stayed situated at our corner table for a good hour longer after Freddie left.

He always was the one who managed to actually do something with his day after a night on the razz.

I honestly felt so poorly. Headache from hell, all my limbs ached...I'd been feeling sick for a constant 4 hours.

I'd been picking at some dry cornflakes to try and get something back into my stomach but everything just tasted disgusting.

"I can't just sit here. I need to be in darkness." Deaky eventually got up, still wobbly on his feet as he was so fragile. He looked the worst out of the three of us physically, but we probably all felt the exact same having consumed similar amounts of alcohol.

"Want me to come?" Roger asked.

John shook his head, "No. Stay here."

I exchanged glances with the drummer.

It wasn't until right now I realised myself and Rog didn't actually spend much time together with it just being me and him.

I sort of missed it, it used to be just me and him all the time when we were in Smile.

"He's happy." I joked.

Roger rolled his eyes, "He was a fucking nightmare when we got back."

"What happened?!" I giggled, leaning forward.

He shook his head, he seemed to have perked up after eating all that greasy crap, "Well even you know, he couldn't hold up his own body weight could he!"

I didn't know...I couldn't remember.

The drummer carried on regardless, "As soon as I closed our hotel door behind us he fucking threw up everywhere. I'm not just talking on the carpet, Brian, it was all over me, all over him. It splattered all over the walls, it was on the fucking mirror. On the mirror! I don't even know how he managed that, it's half way up the wall!"

"Oh my god..." I giggled, covering my mouth to hide my smile as Roger was quite clearly unimpressed.

"I eventually got him into to the bathroom after he'd projectile vomited everywhere and shoved his head over the toilet because it just kept coming out of him. I turn around to start cleaning up his sick when I heard him groaning, turns back around and he'd slipped, banged his head on the inside of the toilet and got his own vomit in his eyes. That's why they're so bloodshot." He huffed, "Honestly. I've never seen anything like it."

Roger was being quite serious and showed a little bit of anger but I couldn't help but almost die with laughter.

I would have paid good money to see that.

We fell into comfortable silence and my thoughts drifted back to Freddie.

Everything seemed weirdly normal given our predicament. It honestly was like nothing happened.

And I was grateful for it. Of course I was.

But...there were just a few thoughts niggling at me.

First of all...I still didn't know if I believed him, why would he lie about such a thing? But then again, it is Freddie. But he got so upset that I didn't remember, it was like it had actually meant something to him. Like his dream of being with me had come true.

So, if it had happened...fuck. I don't know. I was so very confused. Of course if it happened there's nothing I can do about it. It's done. We had sex. End of story. A one night stand with Freddie...how weird does that sound? Even weirder...I had sex with my best friend.

The biggest thought swirling around my hungover brain was...I wish I could remember it. Not only to clarify that it did actually happen but...to actually remember what it was like. I'm being brutally honest with myself...I've always wanted to know what Freddie was like in bed after all his ridiculous Fuck Fables...and there's always been this guilty little want to fuck him in the back of my mind.

And it had happened. And I couldn't fucking remember what it was like.

That was the biggest regret. Not the fact that we had actually had sex.

I know I had hurt him by telling him I didn't mean it when I apparently told him that I liked him. I couldn't remember doing that either but with his tone of voice...that actually did happen. But I obviously bottled it and told him I was drunk and didn't mean it instead of saying yes, Freddie, I do like you.

But there we are again. Why would I admit to liking him? He'd then think I'd want a relationship with him...when I don't. I still firmly believe that we would never work out.

"What was Freddie like when you got back?" Rog giggled, "Did you let him share your bed?" He smirked.

I felt my cheeks blush, how did he know we'd shared a bed?!

"I-I don't know. I honestly can't remember anything." I smiled awkwardly.

"Oh god, I forgot you can never remember anything past your first drink." Rog giggled, "I'll just ask Fred, he remembers everything."

Oh my god. No, Roger. Don't ask him. What if he tells you?

As much as I wanted to kind of remember what happened last night I knew for a fact I never wanted it to come up in conversation again and I did not want the other two finding out about anything that might have happened.

Suddenly, I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder that made me jump.

Jim sat across from me, "Good news, I've secured another room for Freddie so you two don't have to share anymore after what happened last night." Jim grinned.

I could have fucking died.

Jim knew what had happened, I had to tell him the reason why I wanted him to find a separate room for Fred. He probably got Freddie's side of the story too as he stormed off to the bus after our tiff this morning.

I wanted to know what Fred had told him but felt too awkward to ask.

But now he had practically hinted to the previously oblivious Roger that something had happened between me and the singer last night.

"Oh, brilliant. Thank you, Jim." I tried my best to make my smile seem real and soon he was on his way again.

I did feel guilty and I did feel sort of sad that Freddie wasn't going to be sharing a room with me anymore.
Ridiculous I know. After our massive argument after the show and then...then having sex last night, you'd think I'd want him well out of the way, wouldn't you.

But for some absolutely insane reason...the whole sex situation had not repulsed me...rather...my fondness for him had...grown. I felt responsible for him now.

I couldn't lie to myself, if it happened, he couldn't have just forced himself on me. For one, it wouldn't matter how drunk I was, I would never ever do anything with anyone that I didn't want to do.

And for two...I knew Freddie wouldn't do that to me. So therefore, it must have been a mutual effort.

I felt the icy blue eyes of the drummer staring deep into my soul.

I finally dared to look back at him.

"What happened last night?" He asked, very suspiciously.

I shrugged quickly, "I don't know. Like I said. I can't remember." I lied awfully.

"Well you have to know for Jim to come and tell you like you know." Roger looked at me through slanted eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

"I don't know! Fred must have told him something." I panicked.

Roger's tone of voice changed to something rather bitter, "Like I said, I can just ask Freddie." He warned.