Roses in December

Five

Roger didn't know why he agreed to go. When John burst into his room and said they'd be leaving earlier than expected for their recording session, Roger should have told him to fuck off. There was no point in having him go when he couldn't even remember the songs they were meant to be recording in the first place.

John seemed optimistic than usual, which was strange as the last time they had truly spoken was the night of the party. He still didn't understand the annoyance that came from the other three. He wasn't attached to someone. Didn't have a wife or kids to worry about. What was the problem with him going home with someone?

Roger had met Brian's wife Chrissie. He was glad to know the man had met someone and fell in love even if he couldn't remember seeing it. He knew Freddie had been involved with someone, but that had ended some time ago. Now he was mostly living single, enjoying life to the fullest though Brian had mentioned he was somewhat partial to that snake of a man Paul that seemed to follow the lead singer just about everywhere.

Roger wasn't surprised when Brian explained Freddie swing both ways. He always had a way about him, as he would never be satisfied with living just one single way.

John hadn't mentioned if he was involved with anybody. No girlfriends to speak of and Brian hadn't said anything about the subject. Roger chose not to question it. He didn't know John well enough to be involved with his personal life.

Roger didn't know why he followed John into the car. Why he packed his bags and allowed himself to be dragged off to the countryside so they could record an album that Roger had no memory of. But he did. He guessed subconsciously this was what he was supposed to do. Be supportive and help his mates out, even if he felt like he was drowning in the unknown.

The place wasn't exactly as luxurious as the studios they were used to. It was a downright farm and the rooms they were staying in reminds him of his old flat in uni. John showed him to his room, which was upstairs adjacent from Freddie's. Brian's was across the way and John's was apparently all the way down the stairs, in the bloody basement.

Didn't seem very fair, keeping him so far off, but he guessed they just had to make room.

Brian mentioned they hadn't recorded in the farm since they did A Night At The Opera, having chosen to go back and forth between studios in London or Munich, but they decided to bring the band here in hopes of being in such an important place would wake something inside of Roger.

The blond wasn't as optimistic as John or Brian or Freddie. He felt the opposite, actually. Roger had been thinking of it a lot since their last rehearsal. Nothing was coming back to him. No songs. No lyrics. He was overlooking some of the songs they had chosen for the album and found himself hating some of the choices they made. Nothing made sense. He knew he had grown as an artist but he was still lost in his twenty-one-year-old mine frame. Along with student just trying to make it big and wanting to make a difference.

But the difference was already made. Queen was one of the most popular bands in the world and yet Roger felt like he wasn't even apart of it anymore. How the fuck did the others except him to go on when he couldn't even remember anything? When he couldn't even play the songs right or sing the lyrics that were written?

Everything seemed so lost on him and Roger was having the hardest time coping with the fact that he'd have to let go of everything he had worked so hard on.

John has grabbed it when they arrived, allowing Roger to settle in before taking him into the sitting room. He had a box on his lap, an old hat box from Biba that he was proudly showing off. "You used to have this old camera, and would run around taking pictures of everything," John confessed, lifting the lid of the box.