When You Get The Chance (maylor)

Jazz

Roger's POV
"You WHAT?!" Freddie just told me and Brian about the "experiment" he tested on us. Brian and I have been fighting for a week, we were almost about to break up. Brian accused me - ME of all people - for stealing his private journal. To be fair though, I accused Brian of stealing my car keys. I just bought a new car, it's awesome and old, too. It's a '67 black Chevy Impala, and boy, is it cool. The way Brian found out about the experiment Freddie pulled was he was rummaging in the freezer for his frozen veggie strips when he saw his private journal in a sandwich bag under the strips. Freddie came into the kitchen and saw Brian gaping at the bag, and that's when I walked in.

"Freddie, what is this?" Freddie looked sheepish. "Well, I can explain dear.." I looked between the singer and guitarist and put two and two together. "Freddie, did you have something to do with the stuff going missing?" "You need to come clean." John appeared beside me, or maybe he was there the entire time- he's quite quiet. "I hid your things because I thought you argued too much! I wanted to see if you would jump the gun and blame each other, guess I was right. It's not good to be fighting this much in a relationship." "Well, since Brian's book was in the freezer, where are my car keys?!" Freddie sighed. "They're on top of your ceiling fan; I knew you wouldn't be able to see up there." He's technically right, but rage clouded my judgement. "What right do you have to interfere in our relationship," I yelled. "You could've broken us up, or worse- given me a broken arm and Brian an ex-boyfriend! You know what's wrong with your side of this?" "What?" Freddie looked nervous now. Good.
"I, I, I. That's all we ever heard from what you told us. You never think about the future consequences!" "Well neither do you, Mr. Perfect! It's not like I ever see you so drunk you break a window, or getting all bitchy and throwing your drumsticks at our manager! Who are you to judge?!" That was it. I was so mad I was calm. I walked towards Freddie and stopped. His face was red with anger, and I did not care. I turned around and launched my fist into Freddie's mouth. He fell to the floor and John gasped. The singer stood up and threw himself into me, taking us both to the floor. Brian stepped out of our way, and John ran into the dining room. As I was having my ass handed to me, I realized that I had an advantage over Freddie. Being a drummer gives me arm muscle and leg muscle. I brought my knee up as hard as I could, catching the man in the nuts. He stopped hitting me and rolled to side. I stood, and the room shook. I brought my foot into Freddie's side and felt something crunch. His ribs, my toes, who knows. I put my foot on Freddie's leg, and for once he looked truly scared. "Don't you ever call me out like that or screw with my love life again! 'Oh, I'm Freddie Fucking Mercury, the gayest singer alive, hur durr durr!'" I was ready to snap his leg when John ran in front of me, tears streaming down his pink cheeks.

"Roger, please!"

And in that moment, I saw just how terrified he was. The shyest man in our little family, standing alone against the most violent. "Don't! P- please...." his voice cracking with a sob. I looked down at Freddie, still looking like a deer caught in front of a speeding car, with my foot on his calf. And then I looked back at Deaky. Little 5'10" Deaky, standing with clenched fists and a red face for the one he loves.

I can't hurt him.

And then we come to this moment, with my foot again still on Freddie's leg. I know that if I break it, he'll be in a cast for several months, and we'll have to cancel the next tour. Do I really want to put him through the same agony that I went through, not being able to drum? No. No matter how pissed I am at Freddie, he is still my best friend. He makes me live, and I can't betray him like this. I remove my foot and hold out a hand. The singer takes it and pulls himself up. " I'm sorry." I looked once more at Deaky. He still was crying, though not so violently. His fists were unclenched and at his side. I feel like a dickhead for attacking his boyfriend.

I love John like a brother.

I can't hurt him.