"Hey! That's mine!" exclaimed Roger as Brian snatched his coffee mug from the table. "Give it back!"
Brian took a sip of the coffee. He set the mug on the table and looked at Roger. "I think you've had enough already," he said calmly.
Roger scoffed and poked John's arm with his finger. "Tell him to give me my coffee back!"
"Sorry, but I agree with Brian. You've drunk more than enough coffee," John said and shrugged.
Roger glared at John. "You traitor," he muttered. He heard someone chuckling behind him and turned around to see Freddie.
"Someone's in a bad mood," said Freddie with a smirk on his face.
"Well, Brian's to blame for that! He stole my coffee!" Roger whined.
"How shocking."
"Piss off."
Freddie sat down on the chair next to Brian. He examined his hands carefully before looking up at Roger and John and asking: "Where were you two during the party last night?"
"We were talking in the hall outside the bar. Neither of us felt like attending the party," John explained.
Brian stared at Roger in disbelief. "You didn't feel like attending the party?"
Roger shrugged. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
"Well, darlings, you missed out on a lot," Freddie said. He glanced at Brian with an odd expression, like he had just remembered something important. "You're going to tell us everything about Catherine, aren't you?" he then asked, raising his eyebrows suggestively.
Brian's cheek turned red and he let out a nervous laugh. "Uh... I - well," he stuttered. He was staring helplessly at John and Roger, like he was silently pleading them to get him out of the situation.
Roger could have been amused by Brian's awkwardness if it weren't for the sudden wave of anger that was consuming him. He couldn't quite pinpoint the source of it and, as a matter of fact, he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.
Brian started speaking again, this time more composed: "I met Catherine yesterday at the party. We talked for almost an hour and it was wonderful! She was really funny and nice and I think she liked me, too."
"And she was really attractive," commented Freddie, earning a glare from Brian.
After a few moments of silence, Roger stood up and said: "I don't feel good; I'm going to go to my room for a while." He smiled tensely at the others and turned away from the table, not missing the weird look John gave to him.
***
Roger lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling. He didn't feel like getting up. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.
He wished he could stop thinking, even for a few minutes. But he couldn't. His mind wouldn't shut up.
Roger desperately wanted to know what was happening to him. Maybe it was something he would be able to fix. But lately, nothing made sense to him.
Someone knocked on his door. "Go away!" he shouted. Or at least, tried to shout, his voice coming out weak and quiet.
The door opened despite his protests and John stepped in.
