Body Language. Queen

Stay Away From Freddie.

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.