Roses in December

Fifteen

Roger had almost forgotten how much he loved album release parties. Just a whole bunch of people, standing around and celebrating the hard work they had put in. There had been a few where the albums were harder to put together and the parties were more of a chance to blow off some steam, while others were a downright blast right off the bat.

This particular party was a bit of both. The band had gone through hell and back due to his accident and while no one truly knew the bullshit they put up with, the group themselves were ready to put all that trouble behind them.

The party was in full swing and Roger couldn't have been more pleased. He was mingling with the likes of Elton John and David Bowie, happily signing his signature on anything that was presented to him. He knew it was a bit ridiculous, but after losing his memory and having to fight to get it back, Roger didn't want to forget another minute of this wonderfully ridiculous life he had going on.

Freddie and Brian were celebrating the way they always did. With Freddie handing out gifts he had purchased on the record labels dime, surrounding himself with dozens of people who would make him feel like a million bucks. Paul was around somewhere, doing Freddie's bidding like the pathetic little lemming he was, but Roger paid him no mind.

Brian was sitting in the corner with Chrissie, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Roger was sure the guitarist would stay for the polite amount of time before finally dragging his beautiful wife so they could have a celebration of their own.

Roger planned on doing the very same to John the moment they found themselves growing bored of the night. John was off on the dance floor, doing that thing he did whenever he was even the slightest bit tipsy. As their careers had gone on, Roger had been the one to dabble a bit into the drug uses that went on at parties like these.

Powder and pills had always been something worth his while, but tonight all he wanted was a bit of a drink and the promise of a cold bed that he and John could very easily heat up. Roger had bobbed his head to the music that was playing overhead. They were funky beats that he was sure John had personally requested, though he didn't mind so much anymore.

After his accident, Roger took music a tad more seriously now and while rock and roll would always be his main focus, the only thing that mattered to him was the creation behind it all.

Halfway through the night, after greeting nearly every guest he did or didn't know, Roger found himself in the corner with the rest of the band. Freddie was in the middle of telling some overly dramatic and extremely exciting story when he made his way over, drinks in hand.

They had heard it time and time again; a fantastic report on something amusing that happened on their last tour. It was interesting at the time and Freddie could make it interesting now. He could make the phone book sound magical because that was who Freddie Mercury was. A damn miracle worker.

"Same story as last time?" Roger asked John, going to stand beside him and handing off his drink as Freddie finished up his tale.

They kept their usual distance. Close, but not too close. They were bandmates after all. Being close physically wouldn't be the biggest surprise, especially on a night like tonight when it was all about getting down and having the time of their lives.

"Different ending this time around," John mentioned, lifting his glass to take the final sip from it, placing it down on the edge of a nearby table to focus on the glass that Roger and brought him.

The party was a little way after everything that had happened to the two, meaning they were finally in proper physical health. The sling John wore had finally been removed and the black eyes and nose stint were gone from Roger's face. They both had scars (physically and mentally) that were healing day after day, allowing the two men to finally move on with their lives.