You And I

7

[SELF-HARM WARNING]

"We should move from the window. People could see us." John whispered when Roger pressed his body against his boyfriends and started licking his jaw.
Johns hair was still wet from showering and sticking on his face, it looked hot.
"I also don't want to have sex with you in the moment."
"Okay..."
Roger let go of John and went into the bedroom to get dressed.
"Can I borrow some underwear from you, babe?"
"Sure, Rog. It's in the upper drawer."
The drummer looked into the drawer and noticed that there was an especially little amount of underwear. He still took one and tried it on. It was a little tight but it would work for the day.
He put on his dirty clothes before joining John in the living room again.
"You have quite little underwear. " Roger said.
"Yeah, thats because I don't wear any most of the time."
John didn't even bat an eye when he said that.
"My pants are so tight that you would see my panties through." He explained.
John continued to sip on his coffee, he had freshly brewed and almost choked on it.
"Um! I meant knickers!"
Roger didn't know that information, but he thought it was quite hot. He gave John a smooch on the cheek.
"You're so adorable!"
John tried to laugh his embarrassment away and added a sugar to his coffee. He changed the subject.
"What do you think about Freddie's idea to let me sing to? You all know that I don't like my voice."
Roger stole one of the sugar cubed and let it melt on his tongue before answering.
"Actually, your voice is rather good. Its unique and you can sing - we all think that. With you, the choir part would be perfect because you voice has that special extra." He said.
"Also, you sound fucking hot when you use your voice like before. It could make me hard again anytime."
Roger wiggled with his eyebrows and put on a dirty smile.
John blushed and fake laughed at this terrible attempt to get a second round. He took a sip from his coffee and sunk in his thoughts.
Roger said they all liked his singing. Then how come, that his mind turned everything they did into something to make him feel bad?
His thumb slid over the two little, parallel scars on his wrist. John obviously wasn't proud of them, but the pressure to be perfect had been too big a while before.
And it started to increase again with the popularity the band gained every day.

When the bassist first joined Queen, he wanted Freddie, Brian and his future-boyfriend to like him and be impressed by his bass playing skills.
The three were very kind to the 19 year old, but the week they took to answer John's application letter and audition was too long for him.
He also had stress in school and his parents constantly put him under pressure to achieve best grades, best looks, best instrument playing, best everything.
John searched for a niche to let out his feelings because crying to sad music in the night wasn't doing enough anymore.
One morning, he watched his father shaving.
The blade left a weird interest in John's mind, so when his dad left the bathroom, John entered it and locked the door behind him.
He never thought about self harm before but somehow his mind was filled with the thought of cutting his skin open.
John took a new blade from the big package his father bought. He removed the wax paper it was covered in and carefully placed it on his wrist with shaking hands.
Funny how he wanted to cut himself, but still put the blade that careful on his arm.
The student slowly let it glide through his skin, cutting only the first layer.
A burning pain was gleaming from the slightly bleeding cut - but it somehow felt good.
John placed the blade a few millimeters below the first cut and let it glide through his skin a second time.
This cut was deeper and it started to bleed immediately.
"Fuck." He mumbled to himself as his eyes teared up.
It wasn't enough for him to stop, though.
A third cut was made.
He teared the slightly bloody blade through his skin so fast, that he couldn't control how deep it was cutting.
This wound hurt so much that he dropped the blade and almost sank to the floor.
There was so much blood.

The lightest cut healed very good and was nowhere to be seen now, the second cut left a little white stripe, but the third one transformed into a thick and light roll.
John ws disgusted from himself for doing something like this and he swore to never do it again.
But somehow the thought of his shaving knife in the bathroom cupboard was creeping up in the back of his head.
He was incredibly stressed by he thought of having to sing. John noticed how his breathing was getting heavier and he could barely hold the cup in his hand.

"John Richard Deacon!" Roger shouted, grabbed the shaking cup from John's hand and placed it on the counter.
His boyfriend was hyperventilating and was completely apathic. It was terrifying to watch.
He grabbed his head and forced him to look him in the eyes.
"Deaky!"
That's when John's finally snapped back and slowly sank to the floor. He was shivering and sweating at the same time.
Roger lowered himself to wrap his arms around John.
His boyfriends eyes were open wide and felt way too dry.
After a while of sitting on the kitchen floor, hugging and calming down, Roger slowly started to take his arms off John.
"Is everything okay now?"
John nodded and took Roger's warm hand. His own were cold as ice.
"What happened?" The drummer whispered.
"I don't know..." John answered, just as quiet.

Brian sat next to Freddie in the gay bar. The stool was uncomfortable and it was kind of smelling like sweat mixed with deodorant in there.
The gin he ordered was slowly bedazzling his mind.
"Do you see anyone you'd like to shag, Brian?" Freddie giggled. Some bloke had his hand on Freddie's thigh, but it didn't seem to bother him.
"Not really. The men in here are not really my type."
His type was Roger. And the men in the bar mostly had short hair and that disgusting mustache, Brian absolutely hated.
There was a dude, who looked similar to Roger though his hair was a little bit darker and he was almost as tall as Brian himself.
He dicided to talk to him - maybe get a good shag too.
Brian pushed through the crowd to get to the young man. He got in front of him and confidently said:
"Do you want a drink or something?"
The guy laughed. He rose his glass.
"Thanks. I already have a drink."
Then he gazed over Brian from head to toe and back.
"But we can talk, if you want to. I'm Peter."
Brian shook Peters hand.
"Brian."
"You have a firm hand shake. I like it. It means you can be quite rough, doesn't it?" Peter smiled.
"Maybe. It actually comes from my guitar playing."
"Wow, so you can work with your finger well?"
...
Brian stumbled out of the bathroom stall while closing his belt again. He had had a few more drinks with that bloke called Peter, who he ended up fucking with.
The two dissappeared into one of the dirty stalls.
They weren't the only one getting it in there.
The sex made Brian come, but it didn't satisfy him. He kept thinking of Roger spreading his legs for him and making that delightful sounds.
The guitarist wished it was Roger's dick he was stroking and his cum he had sticking on his fingers.
"Shiiit." Brian stressed. He was dizzy from the alcohol and it took more than two attempts for him to open the door.
Freddie bumped into Brian when he got out of the bathroom.
"There you are! I've been searching you for half an hour now, darling!" He exclaimed.
By his way of speaking, you knew he was tipsy, but not drunk. Or maybe he was high.
Freddie grabbed his friends arm and started to pull him through the club.
"Let's get you out of here!"
"I just had seeex with Roogeeeer..." Brian moaned while getting along with Freddie.
"Sure!"
Even though Brian looked so skinny, he was actually quite heavy. Especially if he was almost asleep and hanging on your shoulder.
When they had finally left the bar, Brian was feeling better and more sober soon. It got dark and cold, so that you could see your own breath if you blew the air out.
Freddie pushed Brian on the ground. He now sat next to a pile of cigarette butts and some beer caps.
Brian leant his head full of hair against the yellowish wall and sighed. He was now aware what he had done.
"Fuck!" He shouted louder than he wanted.
Freddie watched him while lighting a cigarette.
They didn't talk until the singer had finished. He flipped the butt away and  watched a buff man walking past them.
"I'm sorry, Bri. It was a bad idea to take you here."
Brian nodded.
"You're right. It was a bad idea. But nobody forced me to fuck that twink. It's my fault."