It took me all morning to return to the flat, the distance from Dominique's apartment to my destination much greater now that I was sober and feeling the consequences of spending the better half of yesterday accepting and downing every drink I could get my hands on. The bright sun hung high in the sky, intensifying my headache that seemed to grow with each step I made and—if I was lucky—masking the dirty looks that were thrown my way.
The people I crossed paths with didn't even have to know me to know what the last twelve-or-so hours of my life consisted of. All they needed was my appearance, which I became increasingly aware of with each shop window I passed by—the unkept blonde locks disguising the hickeys that stained my neck, the fresh scratches stretched across my exposed chest, and the waistband of my underwear peeking out from inside my pants' pocket.
I was an absolute mess.
The lengthy trip I had across town to get to the guys' and my place allowed me time to attempt to fix myself up, but my efforts proved worthless as I was greeted upon my arrival with a snarky, "Someone had fun last night." The voice hit my ears like nails on a chalkboard and sent a shudder down my spine, belonging to neither Brian, Freddie, nor John. Rather, it belonged to him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I growled, slamming the door shut behind me to express my distaste in the man's presence.
"Your friend invited me," the unwanted visitor answered in a mocking, pretentious manner, folding his arms across his chest and straightening his cocky posture ever so slightly. My eyes narrowed in resentment, the thought that any of the three men I almost considered family would willingly extend an invitation out to him boiling my blood like no tomorrow.
His eyes flickered to the spot in the room over my shoulder, his lips curling up into sly grin as I turned around and saw John standing in the threshold between the common room and the kitchen, his eyes wide and his hands wrapped around two steaming cups of tea. "Roger. You're here."
"And where else would I be, John?" I retorted bluntly, crossing my arms and maintaining the increasingly disappointed and irritated expression that appeared on my face the second my eyes fell upon him. I nodded my head once in a taunting manner, spitting out a vile, "Go on. Humor me."
He nervously cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, whispering, "I don't know. I-I was worried about you yesterday." He dared to meet my angry gaze. "Freddie and Brian were too...after Freddie calmed down, of course."
"Oh yeah, I'm sure they were," I snarled, silence falling over the room as I waited for his apology that was never going to happen, for he didn't know he did anything wrong. But I did. Brian and Freddie did too, and I'm surprised they didn't advise him against his decision. What surprised me even more was the fact that they knew each other. Of all the pricks in London, how did John come to know him?
"So, where were you last night, Rog?" he interjected, attracting my glare that encouraged him to go on and say, "I quite missed you and your witty remarks."
"Oh, I bet you did, Paul," I hissed, clenching my hands into fists by my sides as I tried my best to refrain from going off on him and his stupid, mischievous grin. I'd done enough of that yesterday, and I really wasn't searching for a second home visit to Dominique this soon, or at all for that matter. Last night was fun, a type of fun I hadn't had in a while, but there was a reason why I'd stopped playing Tim's game; a reason that solidified itself last night and this morning.
Just as the tension in the room began to peak, the bassist brushed past me, bumping shoulders with me along the way. Whether the gesture was intentional or unintentional was beyond me, but it enraged me nonetheless, especially when he sat right next to Paul, offering the extra cup of tea to him. My mortal enemy gladly accepted the drink and glanced over at me, locking his eyes with mine as he and John mirrored one another, simultaneously taking sips of the hot beverages and setting them back down on the little saucers John had brought them out on. My leg began to shake, and my heart started to pound against my chest. Why did he have to be here? Why him of all people?
YOU ARE READING
Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)
Fanfiction==COMPLETED== "Roger, please. We've been good so far, and we haven't done anything we'll regret. Let's keep it that way." When John joins Freddie, Brian, and Roger's band as their new bassist, Roger wasn't quite sure how he felt about him. However...
