angel | dealor

fifteen

After hearing the third round of bangs on the front door, I remembered that my mum had told me she was working overtime, so I'd have to drag myself out of bed and answer the door. Whoever was there didn't seem to plan on leaving anytime soon. I yelled to tell them I was on my way, pulling on a pair of pyjama bottoms but not bothering with a shirt as I wandered down the stairs, stretching my arms above my head. The keys for the door were hung just beside it, making it easy for me to unlock the door and pull it open.

"Roger Meddows Taylor. You've got some explaining to do." Hello to you too, Brian.

"Uh, come in?" I asked, rubbing my face as I stepped back and pulled the door open. My head was pounding after the party, and upon brief inspection of myself in the mirror I could see that the bruises on one side of my face looked worse than they had the day before. Only one side, however, which I found a little odd.

"I hope you hate yourself," Brian told me, kicking his shoes off and storming past me, into the kitchen. Ouch? "I've not been to see John yet, but I know he's in a bad way. You're a massive cock, Roger."

What did I..?

"Oh, shit." Was all I could say, bringing my hands back up to cover my face. His words jogged my memory, opening the floodgates and letting everything that happened the night before crash over me like a tsunami wave.

I'd hurt John.

"Is that all you've got to say for yourself?" He asked. He sounded more disappointed than anything, but I could tell he was angry by the way he was aggressively making tea. I didn't even realise it was possible to make a drink aggressively, but how he slammed the mugs down onto the side with a force fully capable of smashing them changed my mind. "You fucking break his heart, and all you have to say is 'shit?'"

I never wanted him to get hurt. My plan from the very beginning was to not get involved with him, to keep him at arm's distance so that he wouldn't be dragged into the whirlwind of pain that seemed to surround me. But no, I'd kissed him. I'd kissed him, I'd told him I loved him and I kissed someone else, all with the same lips. All within a matter of hours. How did this happen?

"It was inevitable, Bri... I told him not to get involved with me.." I mumbled, my head too fuzzy to come up with a proper response. Part of me knew that deflecting the blame wouldn't work, and that this one was on me. Still, no part of me could come up with a better solution.

"You asked him to be your boyfriend." Brian stated, glaring at me before continuing to make the drinks. Not that he'd asked if I wanted one, but apparently I was getting one nonetheless.

"Only after his incessant nagging. It was more to shut him up, really," I said, trying to defend myself in a way that would definitely come to bite me in the ass.

"You... Excuse me?"

"You heard me." I shrugged. Brian's jaw was hanging open, clearly shocked at what had left my mouth. In all honesty, I was just as shocked, but wasn't ready to back down.

"You... You ask the boy out, you tell him you love him, and then you say it was all just to shut him up? And, what, for your personal pleasure? That's cold, Roger. No, that's fucking heartless!" He yelled. I knew I was in deep shit. Brian hardly swore, nor raised his voice. He was always perfectly calm, the voice of reason when Freddie and I got at each other's throats. What had I done to make him turn against me?

"But I do love him, Bri! I love him so fucking much! I love him, that's why I didn't want to fucking get with him! I break hearts, Brian. And he knew that before getting involved with me." John should have seen it coming, really. I told him I'm bad at being 'faithful', yet he still wanted to be in a relationship with me.

"Roger, you can't blame him. He's clearly head over heels. Nobody made you kiss her, that's nobody's fault but yours." I couldn't argue with that, it was totally my fault.

By this point I had tears streaming down my face. I shook my head when he pushed my mug across the counter towards me, crashing my fist into the side of it and sending it flying off of the worktop and onto the ground. Mum wouldn't be happy.

"I know it's my fault! I... I wish I could fix it... I've never... I've never caught feelings before. John... John's new. He's special... I should be protecting him, not be the one he's being protected from." I sunk down to my knees, sitting on the floor as I thought back to the events of the night prior. Brian had hit me. I deserved that.

I wept for a while, sitting on the ground with my fingers tangled in my hair, tugging hard. I felt like I was losing grip on reality, and it was a feeling I couldn't explain. Brian was tidying up the smashed teacup and the drink that was on the floor, and I was aware of it happening around me, but at the same time I felt like I was on a different planet. Everything was too quiet, but the sound of the ceramic pieces knocking against each other was echoing loudly in my head, each new sound clouding my brain even more. It was overwhelming. Suffocating, almost.

I couldn't breathe.

I'd fucked everything up. I'd hurt John, bad. There was no way he could forgive me, so was there any point in trying?

My whole body was hot. Even without a shirt on, sitting on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor in the early months of the year, I was sweating.

I'd fucked up. I'd hurt him. I'd lost him.

Fuck. I had to go. I needed to talk to him. I needed to see him.

Without a second thought, I was up and dashing to the door. In my hurry, I noticed that all I could see in my peripheral vision was bright white. That didn't matter, however. I could still see enough to get me where I needed to be.

Ignoring Brian's shouts, I pulled on a pair of trainers and the first jacket of mine that I saw hung up. My hand grabbed the handle and flung open the door, and I was sprinting down the street before Brian could stop me.

I'd done a bad thing.