Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 59

Another moment of silence passed over the two of us before the singer cleared his throat and began, "You know, Rog, I may not be the person you want to talk to about this, but...I'm here for you. Brian and I both are."

I held a blank stare with him, wishing I'd done something the second Freddie announced he wanted to talk with me alone. I could've objected. I could've stopped Brian from getting up, making it clear that I didn't want to be left alone with him; that I just wanted to lie there with the two of them and wait for the storms to pass, both literal and metaphorical. For fuck's sake, I could've left while he was making the tear in our sofa worse. Yet there I found myself, in the midst of something I wasn't prepared for, something I didn't sign up for, and I couldn't get away.

"You know, you're quite lucky to have found each other...all thanks to me, of course." I rolled my eyes and turned my head again, refusing to acknowledge the smirk that curled the corner of his lips upward before he went on to say, "But...what the two of you had...it was a wonderful friendship, maybe something more, and I understand you may not want to feel anything. Hell, you may have never wanted to feel anything, but feel something, you obviously did. And I envy you, you know. Hard to believe since, well, you're you and I'm me—"

"Hey!" I snapped, his remark jerking my head back his way, along with an offended look on my face, "What's the supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know what I mean," he dismissed my question, waving his hand and continuing, "What I'm trying to get at, though, Rog, is that...you're lucky. Most people hope that things like this will just go away and pray that you'll come back and land on your feet, but...I'm not one of those people.

"We sacrifice so much of ourselves just to feel normal, like we're doing the right thing, that by the time we're older and our years are behind us, we've got nothing left to offer. Each person gets less and less of you, and so to make yourself feel nothing, so as to not to feel anything, that's such a fucking waste." He glanced down and over at me, a sadness in his eyes that I couldn't bear to look away from.

I'd never heard something like this from Freddie before, especially directed towards me. Our relationship had always been one of back and forth, a sort of you-bother-me-and-I-bother-you deal that always ended in sharing a drink or a drag and putting aside our differences to enjoy one another's company. However, it'd never gotten to this point before, where we were both so vulnerable, so open with one another. It was a bit scary, in all honesty, scarier than my feelings for John were when I was first faced with them.

"Have I said too much?" Freddie inquired when I didn't respond to him, adrift in a world of my own. I snapped back into reality and subtly shook my head no, prompting him to wrap up his long, oddly endearing speech. "I just want to say one more thing, then. I may have come close, but I've never had what you and John have. Be grateful you shared something so beautiful, because something always held me back...or stood in the way.

"And as much as I'd like to, because god knows you don't know what the fuck you're doing, I can't tell you how to live your life. All I can tell you is that we only have one heart and one body, and before you know it...your heart's worn out and your body...well, I hate to break it you, darling, but your looks aren't going to last forever. At some point, no one's going to want to look at you, let alone come near you."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better, Freddie," I snarled, sitting up from my lying position and moving to the opposite end of the couch where Brian previously sat.

"Look, I'm just saying that right now, you're hurting, and you're in pain," he stressed, trying to save himself and keep me from running off like he anticipated me to, "But don't you dare drown that pain out in booze and drugs like I know you want to, babe, because if you kill that pain, you're going to kill the joy that came with it too."

The world around me started to blur for the second time that day as his words rung in my ears. I blinked away the tears that distorted my vision and sniffled, biting my lip and asking, "Do you think Brian knows?"

The singer laughed, as if my question was absurd. "Well of course he knows, darling. He was the one to tell me about your little crush on Deaky. His on you, too."

I smirked, shaking my head. "No, Fred, I-I knew that. I meant about you. Does he know about you?"

I half-expected to already know the response to what I was asking, for Brian and I had an inkling about it for a while now. We just never spoke with him about it; there wasn't a need to. But Freddie had just hinted at it himself, and I needed to make sure I wasn't hearing things or misinterpreting them, since not understanding things seemed to be my newest flaw.

His face gradually fell, and an uncharacteristic awkwardness washed over him, dominating his brash personality. His reaction was enough of an answer for me, but he dropped his head and shrugged his shoulders, mumbling, "No, I don't think he does." He hesitantly met my gaze after a short pause and flashed me a small grin that let me know that that's what he was telling himself, that he knew the guitarist was aware of his situation but wasn't ready to admit it yet. I returned the grin, knowing exactly how he felt.

"Hey, you two haven't killed each other in there, have you?" Brian called out from the kitchen, where he still was hiding out, "I-I'm not hearing anything, and it worries me!"

"Oh, stop being such a drag, Bri. We're fine!" Freddie shouted back to him, shooting me one of his biggest smiles and punching me playfully in the arm. I couldn't help but smile back, returning the favor by doing the same to him.

The water shut off and the clink of the final dish as it was set in the drainboard echoed through the apartment, followed by Brian's footsteps as he made his way to the threshold and leaned against it, rubbing his hands with a ratty towel. "Okay then, Mr. We're-Fine. Have you told him about the album yet?"

"The album? What about it?" I asked, concernedly eyeing the two of them when neither spoke up. "Well?" I yelled, waving my hands theatrically in an attempt to get one of them to answer me, "What about it?"