Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 3

Months had gone by and I was surprised to find that I didn't actually mind John's company. Maybe it was because he didn't feel the need to be the center of attention like the rest of us did, staying out of the arguments the three of us would get into over the stupidest of things. Sometimes I'd meet his gaze during those fights, and it was the same look he gave me the first night we met. That stare, that smirk, saying everything he wasn't: "Go on, Roger. Don't act different just because I'm here. You know you want to yell at them; you know you want to pick that up that chair and chuck it across the room. Just do it. It won't change what I think of you."

What did he think of me? It was hard to tell. He didn't say much, keeping to himself for the most part. Freddie had told me the only time he'd heard him mention anything about himself was the first night they met, and John was so shitfaced that, the next day, he didn't remember meeting him; acted like they were complete strangers.

We were roommates now, the four of us, and it was hard to keep secrets. Yet somehow, John managed to do it. He managed to sit right beside us, eat dinner with us, and go out for nights on the town with us, all while maintaining the mystery that enwrapped his entire being.

I thought I'd figured out all the kinds of people in life - the people like Freddie trying to make a name for themselves, the people like Brian riding the wave and letting the tide take him wherever it may go, and the people like me, wanting nothing more than to have a good time. Then there was John, unlike anyone I'd ever known. I wondered why it didn't bother Brian and Freddie as much as it bothered me. It could've been that they liked him because he didn't give them such a hard time when it came to our music like I did, so his strange behavior didn't concern them. It consumed every thought of mine, though.

"What's your problem?" I blurted out one morning, catching him off guard while he was in the middle of eating his breakfast. He met my gaze mid-bite, his jaw dropped and the piece of toast he had pinched in between his fingers hanging limply in the air.

"What?" he murmured.

My eyes shifted from his face down to his hand, my eyebrows furrowing together. I raised my hand and pointed to his breakfast, asking, "Is that cheese and toast?"

"Yes," he replied in that same way he always does, straightening his posture as if he had something to prove.

I stared at him for a little longer before shaking my head and remembering what I had joined him at the small dining table for. "I just..." My voice trailed off as I found my thoughts still fixated on the piece of bread with a slice of cheese on it in John's hand. I sat forward, dropping my elbows onto the table, and gestured again towards the food. "I don't understand how you're eating that."

"What's wrong with it?" he replied innocently, examining the toast like it was a piece of evidence in a crime scene.

"Stop being a jerk, Roger," a third voice joined the conversation, attracting both of our attentions to the doorway separating the kitchen and the small apartment's common area, where Brian stood tall with guitar case in hand, the sunlight shining behind him giving him an almost angelic glow. "Leave the poor boy alone."

I scoffed, exclaiming in defense, "I'm just asking him a question!"

The guitarist rolled his eyes and said, "Get yourselves ready, you two. Freddie's waiting for us."

I couldn't hold back the groan that emanated from the back of my throat as I fell back into the chair, pouting at Brian who shot me a paternal look that wordlessly expressed stop your whining and suck it up. We'd been working ourselves to the bones for this album, and we didn't even know if it was going to get us anywhere. As cliché as it sounded, our lives depended on the outcome of this. It wasn't our intention, but we'd given almost everything for this band. One skipped class turned into two, two eventually turned into three, and before we knew it, the four of us stopped showing up to school altogether. Sleep had escaped all of us, our days and nights blurring together as we lost track of time, and we were running on low fuel, which John seemed to think could be replenished with toast and cheese.

"What's he got planned for us today?" the weirdo eagerly replied, setting his arguably dissatisfying breakfast down on the table and wiping his hands on his boxers.

"Beats me," Brian answered with a defeated chuckle, turning around and disappearing into the sunlight. I returned my attention to John and found his gaze that had been waiting for mine. An awkward moment of silence passed over us before I heaved a sigh and tapped my hand against the table twice, standing up and slipping my hands into my pants' pockets.

"Come on, Cheese Toast Boy." I smirked. "Let's see what crazy thing Freddie's going to get us into this time."