Liar (Rewritten) | Queen AU

Chapter 9 - Intoxicate Your Brain with What I'm Saying

DECEMBER 4TH, 2015

OADBY, ENGLAND

It was the first time Roger snuck out of the house.

He climbs out of John's bedroom window at nine P.M. and crawls back in at midnight. Unfortunately for Roger, John is having a difficult time going to sleep.

Once Roger settles into bed, John whispers, "Boo!"

Roger's heart leaps out of his chest. "Oh my God! John?" he yelps.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to ask or tell," he says, rotating his body so he could face Roger.

The Deacons set up an inflatable mattress beside John's twin-sized bed. Roger doesn't like sleeping alone, and John doesn't mind the company.

Roger nods, dubiously retracting into his blanket. After a breath of silence, he murmurs, "You didn't lock your window."

"You wouldn't have been able to get in."

"How did you know—?"

"I'm not deaf, Roger," John grumbles. "I thought you might've needed some alone time, or some space."

"I..." Roger wants to think of an alternate explanation, something that didn't make him sound so vulnerable, but he couldn't come up with a lie. "Yeah. I did."

"Do what you need to. I'll keep the window unlocked."

Roger is nearly moved to tears. Having only been John's friend for less than a year, Roger feels a deep, unexpected love and care from him that he hadn't known before. He experiences a confounding fear and comfort by the rich understanding displayed by the kid. Like the taste of salt on fruit, the clashing palate creates something harmonious until waterworks form.

Sappy, Roger shakes his head, hoping the room is dark enough so as to not see the glisten in his eyes. "What if someone bad breaks in?"

John hums, contemplating the possibility. "Nothing happens in Oadby. I'll be fine." He twists his torso so that he can lean over the edge of his mattress. Now they are eye-level. "Do bad people scare you?"

"Of course they do." Roger frowns. "I hate bad guys."

"How do you know if someone is bad?"

"I don't know. They just look it or act it."

"Usually, you can't know if someone's bad until they do something mean to you."

"But," Roger's voice cracks, the utter dread seeping through, "I'm trying to avoid that."

"Bad people are good at hiding."

"Are you trying to scare me?"

The look on Roger's face shifts. He is mad—indignant—at John's probing.

John waves his hands in denial. "No! I'm not. I'm just... trying to understand. You're scared of people, but you sneak out, not knowing what's out there. How are you gonna manage?"

Roger is quiet for a while. John doesn't know what he's thinking about. John doesn't know that his best friend just got a job to fight bad guys, that he has to report to headquarters late at night, that he has to wander out in the freezing cold with only the flickering street lights illuminating his path home—home, if it even is one. John doesn't know that his best friend doesn't want to fight every bad guy. He just wants to fight the bad guys who ruined his family at just thirteen years old.

"I'm gonna be brave." Roger glances up at John. "I have to be. If I'm not, then I'm just another one for the bad guys to get."

John, slightly off-put by the bad-guy-ass-kicking fantasy Roger settles with, says, "Whatever works for you, mate. Good night." He turns back around, pulling the sheets over his shoulder.