Brian's P.O.V.

Another day, another country.

Having finished our American leg of the tour, we ventured to Japan, a place that we held close to all of our hearts. We adored the country, the culture and the people, Roger would say he also adores the food.

But then again, Roger doesn't really say much at all these days.

It had slowly grown to be normal, Roger avoiding the lot of us, slinking off to go wherever he went with Patrick.

John had grown an awful lot closer to Freddie and I, we were not at all complaining, he was never any trouble and we wanted him around, we just felt so sorry for him. He looked and no doubt felt, hollow. Who wouldn't? Having a boyfriend who instead of wanting your company, they sneak off with an ex of yours all the time, one that you hate.

Roger still stares after Deaky longingly, I've seen him, but he's not said a word to him for weeks. In practises yes, in passing, yes. But not voluntarily. Roger hasn't gone out of his way to make any kind of conversation with John since Patrick popped up. How they can keep calling one another their boyfriend was beyond me, this was far from a relationship.

He hasn't made the effort to make conversation with any of us.

I'd had stern words with him back in America. The night Freddie confessed to me that Roger had kissed him.

I was glad Freddie was honest and told me, I also I could tell straight away that it had upset Fred, that he had never wanted Roger to kiss him in the first place.

So I took things into my own hands and I went to find Roger after that, I found him, in a small room, clinging to Patrick like a little boy. Honestly, it was as if Patrick wasn't his personal assistant at all, he was more like his bodyguard when he came between me and Roger, stopping me from talking to him.

All the time we had been a band, none of us had yet felt the need to be protected by anyone, yet here I was being refused a conversation with a guy I had known for years, for longer than the five fucking minutes than Patrick had known him.

We lived together for crying out loud, he didn't need protecting at all, especially not from me.

"Get out of my way, Patrick." I'd huffed, impatiently.

"He doesn't want to talk to you." He spat, arms folded. Even that small sentence made my hackles rise, I could tell he was a nasty thing, I could already see his abusive, controlling side in his eyes that Deaky had described. It was like he was now trying to push his control over on Roger. And the stupid drummer would soon realise his boyfriend was telling the truth all along, but it would be too late by then, Patrick will have Rog in his ugly little grip and the blonde won't know how to break free. And John? Well, he will have moved on.

Anyways, eventually I managed to get through to Roger without that wanker in my way.

I'm usually not quick to judge on whether or not I like people whom I don't know well, but I could quite quickly tell that Patrick was an arsehole and my opinion wouldn't change.

I'd stared at Roger disapprovingly until I made him uncomfortable enough to finally speak.

"I didn't mean it..." he grumbled, avoiding all means of eye contact.

"Didn't mean it, or didn't mean to?" I'd quizzed, "There's a big difference."

He couldn't answer me, pretty much setting it in stone, he meant it, but he didn't mean to.

Meaning, Roger meant the kiss that he planted on my boyfriends lips...but he didn't necessarily mean to do it, at least not at that moment in time. It may have been a spontaneous motive that he didn't think about doing...but he still meant it. He's been thinking about it for a long time. I can tell.

I didn't quite know how to feel, having Roger now physically expressing his like for Freddie...doing that whilst we were in a relationship and he fully well knew that...and he appeared as if he didn't give a fuck. Whilst he still has his own boyfriend still hanging in there by the skin of his teeth, yet he still kisses Freddie. Not John. Not even fucking Patrick.

I know it shouldn't, but it worried me a little. I knew just how much Freddie enjoyed the attention from others, not so much anymore but he did enjoy it all the same, and I know he's quite clearly stated many times that he in no way sees Roger in an attractive or passionate way...it's not that I didn't trust Freddie...I just knew that once he knew somebody fancied him, he couldn't leave it alone. Even if he didn't want anything to materialise out of it, he'd still lead them on, flirt, do whatever it takes so he constantly gets their attention even if he doesn't want them...and then he'll turn around and tell them he's not interested when he's bored and wants somebody else's attention. Deep down I knew he wouldn't do that anymore, not to me, anyway. But there was just a little reservation...thinking, what if.

"Please, Roger..." I started, stepping close to him yet he stepped back, "Please don't mess this up for me and Freddie." I begged, not wanting our almost perfect relationship to be jeopardised by him.

Yet he stayed silent. It wasn't even like he didn't want to mess things up for us, it was like he wanted to, to make me and Fred argue, to turn me against Freddie by making it look like he cheated on me with him.

Well I wasn't having any of it.

"Why did you do it?" I asked, curtly.

He glanced at me for a nano second, but even that short amount of time let me see the fright in his eyes. "Why did you kiss Freddie?" I pushed, staring at him disapprovingly.

He swallowed hard, "I don't know..." he whispered after a long pause.

"You do know. Tell me, Roger." I warned.

He stayed silent.

"You still like him, don't you." Those words hurt to ask him, but I needed to know.

He let out a shaky breath but refused to answer.

"Don't you." I raised my voice.

His head snapped up to look at me and through gritted teeth he growled, "Yes."

I stared at him, "Why now?" I spat.

"What?"

"Why now? Why did you wait to express your feelings towards him until me and him were in a relationship? Why didn't you tell him or fucking kiss him when he was still single?! Don't you want us to be happy?" My voice was strained.

"Because I wasn't jealous when he was single. I had no reason to be. He had no one taking up all of his attention and I could help myself to it...until you. Until you got together and now he doesn't even fucking look at me anymore." He stared at me with poison in his eyes.

My blood was boiling, "That's how relationships work, Roger. You stop playing about and you devote yourself to your other half. He did things properly. Unlike you. You were more caught up in wanting Freddie's attention than spending time with your own fucking boyfriend. No wonder he doesn't want to be with you anymore." I shook my head and span around to leave.

"What?!" His voice was suddenly shrill.

I laughed evilly, knowing he'd heard that last part louder than anything else I had to say, "That's right, Roger. Deaky doesn't want you anymore, and why should he? You're a cunt." I shrugged casually, watching his face grow pale.
"Oh. And stay away from Freddie." I warned before leaving for definite.

And that was that. Roger hasn't really spoken a word to any of us since that.

He didn't want to speak to me because I had told him the truth, and he obviously didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to talk to Freddie because he was embarrassed and knew Freddie was cautious around him now...he didn't want to speak to John because, well, it was awkward and they were right on the verge of breaking up.

Thankfully, Patrick had not flown over to Japan with us. Not yet anyway. We were going to be here for a while and Patrick didn't have any of the legal documents which would let him be in Japan for this amount of time.

But Roger had assured us he would be joining us in the coming weeks. Great.

Freddie swooned into the bedroom of our hotel room, clad in nothing but a loosely tied dressing gown that hardly covered his knees, his hairy chest poking through the front where it wasn't properly tied, his flesh underneath visible just down to his belly button. The hair on his head sodden from him just stepping out of the shower, his curls slowing appearing, something I wish he didn't hate so that he would keep them, rather than straighten them.
I had a small smile on my face whilst I watched him.

"Darling, do you know what we should do?" He chirped, checking himself out in the mirror, turning around to me as his dressing gown fell open, revealing to me his tight underwear underneath...something I wish wasn't there at all.

"What's that?" I smiled, trying to look into his eyes and not at his crotch.

"After this bloody tour is over we should bugger off on holiday. Just the two of us." He made his way over and laid next to me on the bed.

I chuckled, "We are kinda on holiday now."

"No! This is work, we're touring. It's fucking tiring. I mean a proper holiday, somewhere nice where we can relax and not have to put up with any of these dramas." He stated, hinting at the Roger and Deaky predicament.

I smiled and turned to him, moving a wet curl out of his face, "I think that would be perfect." I whispered, earning a toothy grin from him.

He threw off the dressing gown and let it fall to the floor, slipping under the covers and staring up at me like a cute puppy.

"Do you want me to get in?" I chuckled, knowing that face full well.

He nodded eagerly but silently as I did so.

"Want me to turn off the light?" I asked.

"No, not yet." He mumbled, sounding tired after a long journey.

I laid down and we faced each other, staring at each other for a very short moment until I let my hand wander up and rest at his waist, his slender frame close to mine, but those fucking boxers where still in my way.

We'd been together for a while now, yes, I know Freddie said all along that he wants to do things properly, not jump into sex and shit like that...but so far, it's been a few months and I'm yet to even see him naked. I know for a fact Freddie has no shame when it comes to his body, he performs on stage in just some slinky little shorts for crying out loud. So I know it's not because he's embarrassed...

Granted, I haven't really made a move either yet. I always thought Freddie would be the first to initiate anything sexual, giving what he was like in his past and all. I knew he wanted to wait, but I didn't know he wanted to wait this long. I thought it would be two weeks max and we'd be down to the dirty because he wouldn't be able to take the tension anymore...but so far he hasn't crumbled, not even cracked.

And I wanted him to.

I didn't know if he was doing it for my sake, maybe he was waiting for me to make the first move...if we were waiting for each other to make the first move, that would never work. It would never happen!

I just found it incredibly strange for him to be like this.

Because to be honest, I was more than ready for him.

I let my fingers slip to the waist band of his boxers and immediately felt his body tense up, "What's with these anyway?" I asked, twanging the elastic against his bare skin, making him jump slightly. "I thought you slept naked..." I hinted at the many times he's told me he doesn't wear anything to bed.

I smiled bashfully, hiding his face in the pillow, "They're my protection..." he giggled.

I scoffed playfully, "Protection? What do you think I'm going to do? Probe you in your sleep?" I joked, laughing.

He cackled loudly turning onto his back, "Alright, Mr Never-Been-Fucked, I think you're the one that needs to be probed..." he side smiled, making a tingle run down my spine.

I took my chance, smiling wildly, heart beginning to beat a little faster as I stared at his flushed face, "Well, go on then..."