He Makes Me (Queen AU)

Chapter 69

Roger clenched his jaw, looking down at the brunette's gift. His leg bounced anxiously and his hand with the cigarette trembled. After a moment of contemplative silence, he returned his attention to his old friend and asked, "What about Brian?"

Tim grimaced. "What about him?"

"How are we going to get him out?"

The brunette chuckled, taking a hit from his cigarette and coughing at its bitter taste. "We're not." He smashed the white stick into the table, a faint sizzle hitting the two men's ears as a small mound of ash swallowed and extinguished the burning end. He flicked the half-smoked butt aside, candidly explaining, "He's dead."

The blonde's eyes doubled in size. "Dead?"

"Killed," Tim elaborated, lying straight through his teeth. "Stabbed to death by a cellmate." In reality, Brian was alive and well, unharmed, keeping to himself and hoping his deference would improve his chances of sooner receiving parole.

The blonde wouldn't know this, though. He hadn't seen the curly-haired guitarist since they were torn apart on their final day in court, the room exploding in an uproar as their sentences were dealt. He remembered time slowing down after the judge threw down his gavel, his feet dragging beneath him as he and Brian were promptly escorted out through different exits. They'd locked eyes, and the wordlessly profound gaze they held with one another didn't break until they were shoved out of the court room into separate hallways—the heavy doors slamming shut behind them.

Roger shook his head, his brows furrowing in dissent. "You're lying."

"If only I was," the brunette replied morosely, pouting his lips for added effect. "But it was all over the news. Hard to watch, really. It's probably best you didn't know." He stood up, the blonde's distrustful eyes following. "Now, what's it going to be, Rog?" He placed his hands on the metal table and leaned in. "Are we leaving here together, or am I leaving by myself?"

Roger stared at Tim for a moment before dropping his gaze to the box by his feet.

Neither of his options were great. Stay here, degrading himself every day for cartons of cigarettes and extra time outside, or leave, surrendering himself to the man who put him here in the first place. The thought of accepting his offer only to ditch him afterwards crossed his mind but ultimately left a sour taste in his mouth, feeling that Tim would undoubtedly find him wherever he tried to hide. Besides, it wasn't like he had anywhere to go, or anyone to turn to. He really had lost everything.

The blonde took one last drag from his cigarette and smothered it on the table, muttering, "One more question." The brunette rolled his eyes. "What made you change your mind?"

"About what?"

"About putting me in here."

Tension filled the air as the blonde waited for his answer. He met his visitor's troubled gaze, his baby blues seeming to say, Well? Spit it out.

Tim straightened his back and slipped his hands into his pockets. "What did I tell you about asking questions you already know the answer to?"

"I don't care what you told me," Roger retorted, rising up from his stool and rounding the table to stand toe-to-toe with his former friend. "I want to hear it. I want to hear you say why you came back for me."

Tim heaved an irritated sigh, turning a dismissive cheek and staring out the window. "Because letting you waste away in here isn't good for anyone," he mumbled, turning his back to the stupefied blonde and stalking towards the surveillance room. "Especially me," he tacked on conclusively, knocking on the smudgy glass and startling the officer who had turned an intentional blind eye to their visit, busying himself with the rotating security footage on the small television on the desk and digging into his lunch early. His REID nametag evidenced this with a dollop of fallen ketchup.