Freddie's P.O.V.

Before heading back to mine and Brian's hotel room where Bri was looking after a sorrowful Deaky, I took a little detour, I for one, would not want to share a room with Roger, if he was my boyfriend and he had point blank refused to believe me when I told him a guy who had emotionally abused me a few years ago, suddenly popped back into my life and instead of protecting me, went behind my back and befriended and hired the gremlin.

I personally wouldn't want to be within a fifty mile radius of him. Fuck, he wasn't even my boyfriend and I didn't want to be near him.

So I walked up to the lobby desk with an enquiry to book out another of the rooms that was on our floor. We always booked out the entirety of the top floor wherever we stayed for maximum privacy, but in order to get a key and room service and whatnot, told the desk that we would also be occupying another of the rooms.

I was doing John a favour, this wasn't me saying, you are not going anywhere near that twat, you're staying in your own room.
It was just incase. Just incase he didn't feel like being in the same room as Roger tonight, and if he didn't, this new spare room was there ready and waiting for him. But then again, if he wanted to sleep in the same bed as Roger for whatever reason, he could, I wasn't going to stop him. It was just there as an option.

After successfully negotiating with the receptionist and securing the extra room, I wandered back to the top floor which is where we were situated.

I still didn't know what to tell Deaky...did I lie and tell him everything was fine, that Roger would be coming back up soon ready to apologise to him and leave everything behind them and forget?
That would possibly be one of the biggest lies I'd ever tell if I was to say that...and how would I explain the spare room if everything was supposedly well?

I really didn't want to tell him the truth. He was already fragile and close to breaking point as it was and, being selfish, I wanted to save any kind of drama and just focus on the tour and doing our job. I mean, this is what we're here for, travelling the world bringing our music to the adoring fans and audiences. Not falling out with each other and making loads of bad decisions as if it was just blatantly a lads holiday. Our professionalism and our personal lives should never be mixed. I worked hard to keep my private life absolutely private but the others didn't seem to give a fuck. And it was being mixed into a dangerous cocktail of bringing the tension and arguments onto the stage with us and sharing them with the audiences who really were not interested in who was arguing with who. We were in danger of everything jeopardising our so far almost flawless stage presence.
I swear, if somebody didn't want to perform on a particular night, it shows and sticks out like a sore thumb. We can't be having this, not with so many critics out here. They'll ruin us. None of the other boys seem to care or think about this.

I found myself pacing the corridor of our floor back and forth, glancing at the spare room and fiddling with the key where John could potentially be spending the night, it's door looked exactly identical to that of mine and Brian's room, but what lay behind it wasn't going to be a nice atmosphere where John would get into bed with Roger and peacefully slip into a happy sleep, he instead would wriggle and writhe about the empty and lonely bed, half of him wishing Roger was there to turn and wrap his arms around him, the other half glad he wasn't there because of his bitter betrayal towards him.

I found myself not really wanting to go into our room yet where no doubt Brian was still consoling John, probably telling him that everything's going to be alright and that probably everything will be back to normal before he knows it, whilst giving him a half hearted pat on the shoulder, not really caring because he probably thought it was just one of their silly little arguments again that would be resolved by the morning, but apart from me, nobody really knew the extremity of the situation yet.

But really, honestly...I don't think things are going to be alright this time.

As much as I hate to admit that to myself, as much as I didn't want my matchmaking skills to be ruined...you don't really spring back from something like this, do you.
If somebody confides in the one they love and tells them things they never ever wanted to tell anybody, deep, dark secrets that they wanted to keep locked away in the back of their manic mind for the rest of eternity...and the supposed loved one, whom they think would hold them lovingly and soothe, telling them it's going to be okay...instead turns around and accuses them of lying even when they have no reason to...that would take a lot to get over.

You don't just shrug your shoulders and forget something like that ever happened. You'd end up thinking that they'd think that everything you ever told them would be a lie and you wouldn't be able to tell them anything at all.

A relationship just doesn't work like that. Especially when the loved one then befriends the accused and favours them over the partner.

It was like getting into a relationship where your partner tells you over and over again that he is completely and utterly over his ex lover and there is nothing and nobody to worry about. Until the very next fucking day they decide to hire the ex for personal use, but you were still expected to suck it up because apparently, there's nothing to worry about.

It just wouldn't work. Would it. And it isn't. Is it...

What the fuck do I tell him?

That Rogers unapproachable right now and to let him calm down until tomorrow before he talks to him and to just stay in the spare room tonight until things calm down?

Do I tell him Patrick is here? That Patrick has quite obviously done what John said he would do and follow us from city to city?

Should I leave out the part of seeing Roger and Patrick together? Let alone them having a jolly drink and a laugh.

I should certainly leave out the part where Patrick is now, absurdly, Rogers personal assistant.

Or should I tell him that too?

Oh fuck.

See. This is why I had put my foot down in getting involved with all their shit. I always got way too caught up in things and I ended up having to play the bad guy by dishing out the bad news because neither of them had the bollocks to talk about it.

No wonder they always fucking argued. It was the only verbal thing they knew how to do.

I sighed heavily and braved it, walking into mine and Brian's room to find the two of them playing a card game and lightly chuckling.
I was already sorry that I had to ruin the atmosphere that seemed calm and as if things were almost forgotten about on Deakys behalf...that was until the two of them turned to look at me and their smiles faded.

Shit. I had really tried not to look as dreadful as I felt, but by their sudden changing of expressions, I had obviously failed miserably.

"Where is he?" Deaky immediately asked. Laying down his hand of cards on the bed and slowly rising from his seated position as he hollowly wandered towards me.

I walked past the both of them and took off my jacket, "In the bar." I stated, my back towards them as I hung it up. My voice was unintentionally uptight and unimpressed, but so would anybody's if you were about to tell your best friend something that could potentially break them up with their partner.

"Doing what?" Deaks squeaked the question, perhaps asking that obvious one before he asked the ones that gave him the more important answers that he no doubt didn't actually want to hear, but felt like he should know.

I turned around and shrugged, looking him in his panicked eye for a split second before pouring myself a stiff vodka and taking a large gulp to soothe my own nerves, "Having a drink." I answered shortly.

There was a pause as John watched the clear liquid pass my lips and slip down my dry throat, as if silently questioning himself, if Freddie could have a drink in the room with the others, why couldn't Roger?

"...on his own?" He forced out.

There was the money question.

I downed the rest of my vodka and poured myself some more as I winced at the feeling of it slipping into my stomach, all the while being watched by the exhausted eye of John.

It was cruel of me to make him wait like this, I knew I needed to tell him everything...but to be quite frank, I didn't want to tell anybody. I didn't want to have any part in this and I didn't want to be part of their relationship anymore. I didn't want these toxic words to leave my lips, it was always me who seemed to hold the information to break people's hearts all the time.

No wonder that for so long nobody wanted me, I couldn't ever focus on having my own relationship as I was too wrapped up in other people's when I never wanted to be.

I glanced at Brian now who was also looking at me expectantly, his facial expression had changed from a rather relaxed one to one that looked almost as desperate as Deakys. Maybe he had thought that everything would be fine and I would return to the room with a very apologetic Roger, him and John would kiss and make up and everything would be fine again. They would run off to their room skipping down the corridor hand in hand, leaving myself and Brian to frolick in each other's company and enjoy being together. But I think he knew now that is wasn't going to be that way.
That I had not returned with the drummer, and now he could see the reality of the situation, it wasn't just a silly little tiff.

"Freddie." John pushed, his voice strained and breathing heavy.

I tore my eyes away from Brian whom I had been internally screaming at to help me with this situation and make it easier for me to tell...I hated being the only beholder of such information, surely it was somebody else's turn to step in and take control of these two so I can sit back, relax and enjoy my own relationship.

I swallowed thickly and fidgeted about in the spot in which I was standing, having to purposefully loosen the grip I had on the glass of vodka before it smashed in between my fingers...but then maybe that would come as a welcome distraction.

What do I say?!
The truth?
A lie?

I stared at John blankly as he waited for my answer, I didn't want to hurt him anymore than he already was, his heart was hanging out of his arse and I just knew if I told him that Roger was with Patrick...he wouldn't be able to cope.

But the last thing I wanted to do was protect Roger after the shit he's caused today.
He should be exposed. Why should I protect him? I didn't want him to get away with befriending Patrick. Everyone and their fucking uncle should know about his dirty foul play.

But I also wanted to protect John, throw my arms around him and give him a cuddle, wrap him in bubble wrap or cotton wool...I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay...but I couldn't do that, because to be quite frank, I don't think they are going to be okay.

I took another gulp of vodka, "No...he's not on his own." I whispered.

He stepped back a little and looked down at the floor, knowing this was going to be my answer but wishing that it wasn't, "Whose he with?" He whispered, barely audibly, a streak of knowing in his voice as if he already knew the answer.

I put down my vodka glass with a little too much force as a wave of anger washed through me, not at Deaky, but at that blonde bastard downstairs in the bar, oblivious to the situation he had caused up here, being absolutely ignorant and making himself feel better after apparently being the victim as always. He seems to get away with his luck on his side doesn't he. Things always seem to go Roger Taylor's way.

"Who do you think?" I spat nastily, again, not at John but the poor mite probably thought I was aiming my anger at him when it really wasn't the case.

I saw his throat contract when he tried to swallow down his feelings, his eyes looked hollow and empty, as if such hurt had passed through them, he was never going to recover. He had gone deathly pale and couldn't steady his breathing.

"I-I have to go down there..." he suddenly span and tried to bolt clumsily out of the room as if drunk on his own sorrow.

But Brian dived in front of the door before he could leave, Bri had not done nor said anything up until this point, and stopping John escaping the room was the perfect involvement.

I watched him as he didn't attempt to battle Brian out of the way, which he could have if he really wanted to, Brian was a few inches taller than John but the two of them were of similar builds. If Deaky really wanted to go down there...if he really did, he could have pushed past Brian. But he gave up without putting up a fight and let his head fall heavily onto Brian's chest instead...he had no fight left in him, he was exasperated and out of trust. The one thing he wanted was down in the bar being overly friendly with the one thing he wishes he could eliminate out of his life for good.

And I knew exactly how that felt as I had been in a similar situation myself...with Brian and Charlie.

And I wouldn't wish that sort of emotional turmoil on my worst enemy, never mind one of my best friends.

I exchanged worried looks with Brian as John was still resting his heavy head in the middle of Bri's chest. If things were different and we were not on tour, if it was just a lads holiday...I would have taken John home with me within a blink of an eye. To separate the two, to give them time to think.

But I couldn't do that. We had to be here, all of us. We had to stay here and we had to travel the countries, we had to stay in hotel rooms together, rehearse and play shows together.
Having an argument with your boyfriend was hardly a valid excuse to cancel a huge world tour.

I placed my empty vodka glass down softly after emptying its contents once again and looked again at John, he had turned around and was staring into space, it was as if those eyes already knew that things were never going to be the same between him and Roger. As if he wanted to turn back time and somehow find a way that meant Patrick wouldn't come back.

Because even after all these years, he's succeeded in the one thing he has set out to do, isolate John from everyone just so he could move in their and grab him.

Roger didn't yet realise this and I look forward to the moment that he does. Maybe it'll teach him a valuable lesson about trust. Patrick wasn't interested Roger in the slightest way, I could tell the drummer thought Patrick was into him and he was loving it. But the only thing Patrick is interested in is getting Roger out of his way.

"Can't we call the police or something...?" Brian finally spoke up in a soft and hushed voice as his hand rested on a shoulder of Johns, Brian's eyes were full of worry as he looked at me.

"No!" Deaky suddenly yelled, sighing afterwards as his face screwed up but no tears were produced, "No...I don't want to be involved with him anymore." He whispered.

"I know, darling. But surely it's something to consider, he's a threat to you, a danger." I said softly.

He shook his head like a three year old who had just been offered a vegetable to eat.

Again, glances were exchanged between me and my boyfriend.

"Were they talking, Freddie?" He asked out of the blue, unable to lift his heavy eyes to look at me and instead stared off into the distance somewhere as if painting the picture of Roger and Patrick together, making him sick.

"Yes..." I hesitated before answering truthfully.

Finally, he glanced at me, "About what?"

"I don't know, dear. They stopped when they saw me." His eyes were so agonised they were painful to look at.

He suddenly sighed very heavily, "What the fuck is he playing at? Why would he do this to me?" He looked at both me and Brian now who had gone eerily quiet as we really didn't have the answers for him.

"He's a fool, Deaks." Brian replied.

"Listen. I got you a spare room for whilst we're staying here...you don't have to use it, it was just in case you didn't want to stay with Roger tonight. But it's entirely up to you." I admitted, the spare room confession was a lot easier on him than telling him Patrick was Rogers PA now...I had decided not to tell him any of that. At least not for tonight, he was in no fit state and I could tell he could take no more heartbreak. It would certainly tip him over the edge.

I held out the key to the spare room to him, watching as his eyes lay on the object that would be separating him and Roger for the first time in months. They had not slept in separate beds for a long long time...John is certainly not going to enjoy it, and I would hope Roger wouldn't either, after all all, this is all his doing. He should suffer.

Eventually, the bassist began to slowly shake his head.
"No. No...fuck that." He whispered, recoiling away from the key that lay in my palm.

I was about to persuade him, tell him the advantages of spending a night in a different room to Roger tonight, until he opened his mouth again.

"No. If it's anyone that should be shoved into a spare room it's him. Not me. He can have it. I'll lock him out of ours." He shrugged, a slight bit of venom and fight in his voice, his anger was coming back, I could tell he was tired of feeling defeated and rejected. And good for him.

I gave him a small smile and wrapped my fingers back around the key, pushing it into my jeans pocket, "That's the spirit, lovey." I winked.

"I-I think I might go to bed now actually...there's no use waiting, he's not coming back any time soon." He sighed, dragging himself up off our bed, his eyes bloodshot and eyelids heavy, although he looked exhausted, I would doubt that sleep would be on the cards for him tonight...for any of us.

After Deaks said goodnight to Brian I followed him into the room that was previously supposed to be John and Rogers room...now John was handing me Rogers still unpacked suitcase where I left it outside the door of the spare room with the key placed on top, ready and waiting for him to find out for himself that he's in the doghouse tonight. We didn't bother to let him know or leave him a note, he didn't deserve that decency.

And I swear to the almighty fucking god if he dares bring that ugly mongrel back to his room tonight and lets him stay with him, I will make his life a fucking misery.

"Are you sure you're going to be alright, Deaks?" I asked him softly as he stood in the doorway.

He nodded silently, lying to me but he didn't want to let on that he wasn't actually alright, "Yeah...thanks, Fred. I bet you're fed up of having to sort us two out, aren't you?" He pretended to chuckle.

Yes.

"Of course not, darling. You know I'll always do anything I can to help." I reassured.

He laughed sadly, "Yeah well...with the way things are going, you might not have to help for much longer..."

That stabbed me right in the heart. He knew the reality of the situation and it was killing him...he was already preparing himself to loose Roger.

Yet the blonde probably thought he could do all this to him and still sleep in the same bed as the bassist, still talk and still expect John to be there waiting for him.
Well he's going to get a shock.

"Get some rest, we'll talk in the morning." I gave him a forced smile, waiting until he closed his hotel room door and I heard him lock it behind him.

I turned around and walked the few paces over the the spare room in which John had thrown Roger into, and good for him. Why should Deaky have to move?

I had a strong urge to empty all of his shit out of his case into the hallway and leave it strewn all over the place. But then that wouldn't make me much better than he.

Instead, I would lurk outside until Roger comes back up, if he returns with Patrick, I will call the police. Rogers PA or fucking not, he didn't know the guy and he was stalking the lot of us, as well as threatening John.

And if he doesn't return with Patrick...I'm still going to teach him a fucking lesson.

So I'll wait for him. No matter how long that may be.

((A/N - hello lovelies! Here comes another excuse for being shit at updating! I was on holiday all this week with no wifi so I couldn't update, but whilst I was away I wrote this looooong part for you all, hope you enjoy <3 ))