Queen Oneshots

Maylor: Don't Be Scared (2)

Tw: Drug Use, Prostitution, UnderAge Prostitution, Stealing, Over Dosing Mentioned, Attempted Over Dosing

Roger tracks Brian down worried for him once he got no calls or texts from him by the second week they're been friends for nearly a year now. He bought Brian his very first phone and now he disappears off the face of the Earth.

Roger stands in front of the house Brian's GPS was last at and it looks well... Like a crack house, you know the one. The one that stains the perfect suburban neighborhood, the one that looks ugly and a health hazard to anyone that crosses its path or lives in it. The one with a jungle for a lawn and junk littering the yard. Roger steps onto the cluttered pathway and starts to walk the long grass tickles his ankles, "Y-You're doing this for Brian. You're doing this for Brian.'' he tells himself as his heart races thinking about the older man. He stands on the broken porch he thinks about seeing those beautiful hazel eyes again and those bountiful curls he blushes darkly and shudders, he knew he was falling hard for him. He looks at the door which was barely a door it was hanging onto the frame just by one hinge and it was crooked as hell along with a bottom chunk missing from it.

Roger knocks, "Hello?"

He heard the scrambling of footsteps and a voice, the door flings open harshly making Roger flinch.

"What?" the man looked to be in his late forties his dyed red hair a greasy unkempt mess he was standing there in only a pair of stained dirty boxers and worn combat boots he had a messed up eye that looked different than his left.

"I-Im looking for, B-Brian." Roger says meekly, stepping back as the smell of urine and blood hits him.

"Pleasure or business?" spit nearly hits Roger in the eye and he sees the man's many missing teeth.

"B-Business?" Roger gets grabbed by his wrist hard enough to bruise and is pulled inside the stench of the place made him want to vomit. It smelled like a bunch of dogs had went wild in the house.

Something catches Roger's eye in the barren living room, a man was, no a boy, he was too young to be called a man yet, was laying on the floor in women's lingerie a once nice lacy set he had torn stockings on that were badly stained. He had a needle in his arm and was looking quite dead.

"Who-"

The man holds up a hand, "Paul, his name is Paul." the man kicks Paul harshly making the kid let out a wheezy groan, "His pimp hasn't picked him up today."

"The- Wha-"

"If you need a pimp J.L. is your go to. You're in J.L.'s age range. Young and dumb. What are you 15? I won't tell I'm not a cop," clearly you're not, "Unless you are one?" he slams Roger against the wall making Roger get the wind knocked out of him.

"I-I' m only 18!" Roger cries out, "I just wanna graduate! Don't kill me!!"

"Bowie," that voice, "Let him go. I know him, he's my friend." it was Brian.

Roger breaks free from Bowie, "Brimi!!" he slings himself onto him wrapping his arms around his thin shoulders, Brian smells again he was in desperate need of a shower poor boy couldn't shower here.

Brian puts a protective hand on Roger's waist a blush dusts his thin face, "Why did you come here? This isn't a place you should be in."

"Look dad thinks I came here to lose my virginity... He knows you didn't sleep with me that one night..."

"In a whorehouse?" Brian's voice drops to a whisper, "Is he insane? Does he want you diseased?"

Roger looks away his face red, "Why didn't you answer my calls or text. That's truly why I came here. I care about you."