Angels and Devils [Freddie/Brian] [John/Roger]

Angels and Devils

Brian stood in the door opening of the bedroom and smiled softly at the sight in front of him. John and Roger were laying on the double bed on their belly, John's hand resting on his boyfriend's back, flicking through a music magazine. Their hair was messy from the pillow fight they had thrown earlier that night – that was probably also the moment when they had lost their shirts. And now they were here, sipping from their tea as they giggled about something they read about Led Zeppelin.

'Snort cocaine from hundred dollar bills?' John read out loud, chuckling in surprise.

'Well, I wish we could do that! I mean, that we could afford it. I'll take the hundred dollar bills and they keep their coke. Who needs drugs anyway, when you can have a boyfriend?'

'Ahw, you're so cute,' John said as he pecked Roger on the cheek. A soft, pink blush crept up Roger's cheeks as he turned the page of the magazine around, miming the words of 'Young Americans' a track from David Bowie's new eponymous album, that was playing casually in the background. After he had looked at the boys for a minute, Brian cleared his throat.

'Deaky? Roger?' The two boys looked up from their occupation and Brian continued, but not before saying: 'You make such a cute couple. Anyway, Freddie asked if you'd like to go to the cinema with us to watch a new movie. He's told me about it, but I stopped listening halfway when that demon started undressing me... I remember it has something to do with zombies, a passionate love story and some hot actors. And something with the apocalypse. So, what do you think?' Brian snickered.

'Well alright, then. I absolutely love half dead brain-eating creatures,' John agreed and got off the bed, running his hands though his messy dark brown hair in an attempt to get it back into shape, but suddenly he seemed to remember something. 'There's not gonna be too much blood, I hope?' John said, gesturing at Roger, who blinked innocently at the two boys. Brian smiled softly when he saw a sparkle of concern in John's eyes – ever since Roger had admitted that he was actually quite afraid of those kind of movies, John always wanted to make sure that a movie wasn't too horrifying.

'No, I think it's gonna be fine.'

'Is it alright with you? If you'd rather go to another movie, or stay home, just tell me,' John said, but Roger said it was alright.

'Okay, then we'll go with you guys. Just have to find my shirt...' John mumbled as he looked around the rather messy room – Brian followed his eyes, looking at the pile of books and worn clothing on the chair in the corner of the room, the crappy bed sheets, the dust-covered albums next to the record player. But the room also had something very homey – the kitschy floral curtains and the embroidered duvet, that had once belonged to Roger's mother, formed a funny contrast with the Jimi Hendrix and Rolling Stones-posters and some of John's precious bass guitars, hanging with the guitar strap on an improvised clip on the light-blue painted wall. And even though it might be a bit of a mishmash, just the fact that this was the room where the two boys lived, laughed and loved, made it the most precious room in their small London apartment.

'Such a shame. Can't you go without your shirt on?' Roger pouted as he handed John his shirt, and John rewarded – or reproved – him with a soft tap on the nose.

'Come on, sweetie. Get your shirt, then we'll go to the movies.'

#

After they had bought their tickets, some popcorn and M&M's, the four boys walked up to the room where the movie was going to be. Even though they were quite late, the room was rather quiet – besides a middle-aged couple, three boys in the front row, and multiple groups of teenage girls that started whispering and giggling immediately the moment they walked in, there was no one.