𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

48. Remember December

"You just can't keep your fucking dick in your trousers, can you?! You'll shag anything that moves and think it's all alright because you're Roger fucking Taylor and everyone fucking adores you!"

"Oh, everyone adores me enough to want to shag me, and that's what makes you jealous, Brian!"

"Don't be fucking ridiculous!"

I had single-handedly created the most toxic and explosive atmosphere in the history of all moods. And what did I do? I cowered in the corner like a coward, hands covering my mouth, tears cascading down my face as Brian and Roger unleashed their fury.

"Me? Ridiculous? You're the one who bought a damn engagement ring for your girlfriend without even following through with it!"

Brian loved me enough to purchase an engagement ring, using money he didn't even have.

"And it's none of your goddamn business what I do in my private life! You must be so fucking insecure to live the way you do, allowing your own girlfriend to treat you like shit... Pathetic, Roger, absolutely fucking pathetic," Brian seethed with rage, his eyebrows furrowed, and his jaw clenched.

None of this was meant to happen. It was all my fault.

"You have no right to criticize my girlfriend when your own has been lying to you for seven fucking months. I didn't know you were into sluts, Bri," Roger hissed venomously. Something about his final comment struck a chord in Brian's mind, his expression stiffening, his body tensing with rage.

"Do you want to say that again, Blondie?" Brian retaliated, taking a menacing step forward, their faces inches apart. "Go on, I fucking dare you to repeat what you just said!" His words were gritted through clenched teeth as Roger also stepped up, their heated breaths intermingling.

"I said, I didn't realize you were into s—," Before Roger could finish repeating his insult, Brian forcefully shoved him into the table, sending a chair crashing to the ground. Roger fought back, charging at Brian, both grappling for dominance, desperate to deliver a series of punches. Trust me, Brian was more than capable of doing that. Limbs tangled, and onlookers sprang into action, realizing the situation was spiralling out of control.

That's when I knew I had to intervene. I had stood on the side-lines for far too long. I ran toward the two men, squeezing myself between them. "Brian! Brian, stop it!" I yelled over their shouts, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. I pushed Brian away from Roger, guiding him toward the patio door. He tried to break free, hurling vulgar profanities at his best friend, but I shouted at him, ordering him to go outside. Miraculously, it worked, and he turned, flinging the door open.

The night air seemed tranquil, a respite from an innocent game, a chance to sit on the patio and breathe in the natural Yorkshire air. But that ideal scenario was shattered that night. It was beyond salvaging.

Brian walked over to the wooden fencing of the patio, his fist colliding with one of the pieces that held it together. He rested his elbows on the fence, burying his face in his hands. I didn't know what to say. Nothing could undo what I had done, and now he knew.

"Brian, I—"

"When did it happen?" He interrupted me abruptly, catching me off guard. Telling him how long ago I slept with his best friend was more daunting than I had imagined, and the words refused to escape my lips. So he repeated himself, his voice raising. "When did it happen, Maria?!"

I flinched, arms folding defensively. "December!" I yelled back, though I'm not sure why. This wasn't even a two-sided argument. If I were in his position, I would have reacted the same way.

At first, he didn't respond. He shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "Oh, wow, I'm so fucking stupid," he finally uttered.

Furrowing my brows, shaking my head, I took a few hesitant steps toward him. "Brian, you're not—"