Don't You Hear My Call?

Take Me To The Top

Johns POV

I couldn't catch up to Freddie in the lobby. I didn't want to face the rest of the boys. I couldn't go upstairs to my room. It was our room. Freddie and I had always shared a room on tour. Now I'm stuck. I told Lacey about me and Freddie. She promised to not tell anyone, and also offered to let me stay in her hotel room for the night.

Maybe I should go there.

But maybe not.

She'd just pull me into bed. She'd tell me it'll make me feel better. She wasn't wrong, it always did. But I can't. I'm already in deep shit. Sex won't fix it now.

I left the hotel through the back exit, I didn't want to risk seeing Brian or Roger. I already know I fucked up, I don't need anyone telling me what I already know.

Brian 100% told Roger. He tells him everything. I once heard him tell the blonde about his favorite types of bread. A big secret is definitely more interesting than baked goods, the curly giant wouldn't have been able to hold it in much longer than an hour and a half. It's endearing, but leads to trouble.

I grabbed the pack of cigarettes out of my back pocket as I rushed into the cold air. I picked up smoking after my lies to Freddie started piling up. It took the stress off.

I fumbled for my lighter in my pocket. Flicking it on, I lit the cigarette, breathing in at tobacco until I couldn't anymore. I let it come out my nose before opening my mouth to release the rest. I walked down the streets. It was extremely late. The sidewalks were mostly empty except for the few homeless people on the corners. Little did they know, they were luckier than me.

I walked till I found a cheap motel. I only had a bit of money, but hopefully enough. The flickering neon lights read 'vacancy' in a light teal. I opened the door to the round motel entrance. It smelled of stale alcohol.

There was a small man at the front desk, he was much shorter than me and was balding profusely. He had a hair chest that showed through his deep v-neck shirt. He was hunched over the counter reading a dirty magazine, never acknowledging that I entered.

"Gotta room?" I tapped the desk with my fingers as I stopped at the counter. The man tore his eyes from the young blonde woman on the page and stared at me, looking me up and down.

He turned around and grabbed a key off of a rack. He tossed it to me and spoke in his grumbly American accent, "it's 25 for the night."

"You're sign says 20." I countered. "I changed my mind. Now pay or leave, brit." I grabbed my wallet from my coat and took out some US currency that Miami had distributed. I left it on the counter and took the keys off the desk. As I was about to leave the small room, I turned back to the man.

"You do have a telephone I could use?" The man rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance. "There's one in my office. Come on." He waved me over and opened the door to his dark office. "Don't take too long" he mumbled.

He walked out and I picked up the phone. I dialed the only number I knew. It rung only once before someone picked up. I was greeted my a cheery voice.

"Hello, could I get the number for room 402?"

"Of course sir! I'll transfer you right away!"

I waited a second before an answer. "Hello?" It was Brian.

"Hey Brian, it's John."

"For fucks sake does everyone feel like calling us at 3am?!" He was definitely in a mood. My guess is that Freddie had called earlier. I mean, who else was gonna call him. And at this hour? It was definitely Fred. I think Brian was sick of hearing about our problems. He needed sleep, but I needed a quick chat.