Body Language. Queen

Wishful Thinking.

Rogers P.O.V.

He looked at me with a deadly glare, "Did he really?" He asked with the most unimpressed voice and flat tone.

I nodded my head indefinitely, "Yes. He did. Now if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to go to sleep." I snapped, attempting to push open the door and shove my case in.

"Go on, Roger. Go and have a nice, peaceful, thoughtless sleep. Because that's far from what he's having in there." He pointed to the room in which John was in and I rolled my eyes, "I don't even know how you can live with yourself. That in there, in case you've forgotten, is your fucking boyfriend. The one who you're supposed to love. I wouldn't call this love." He snarled.

"Don't talk to me about love, Freddie. You don't even know what love feels like, you can't keep anyone down for long enough to fall in love with them so don't fucking preach to me about what love is." I turned away from him.

"I would say that I know what it feels like. I do now." He stared at me coldly.

"How cute. You love the guitarist who you can't even bring yourself to fuck yet. Sweet." I taunted, I knew I was going too far, I knew I was on the verge of not only falling out with my boyfriend, but also one of my best friends too.

He stepped closer so his face was in mine, his dark brown eyes had an angry fire in them as he stared at me with clenched teeth, "Because, if there is one lesson that I have learnt, Roger, it's that lust, feels a hell of a lot fucking different than love. Just like you should learn that revenge, isn't always the answer. Just because somebody hurt you, doesn't mean you have to hurt them back, you'll loose him, you know. He'll wave goodbye to you faster than you can pull your head out of your arse...he'll be gone and only then will you realise how special he is and how much of a fool you've been." He spat.

I rolled my eyes at him again, dramatically, even though, deep down, I knew he was right, I didn't want to loose John, and I was going the right way to do so.

He turned on his heel and strode over to his and Brian's room, "I hope your fucking nightmares keep you awake." He hissed with hatred in his eyes, shaking his head at me disappointingly before finally disappearing into his room.

I turned my head away from the door he'd vanished through sharply and growled under my breath, shoving my case into my room angrily, kicking it hard and knocking it over, slamming the door behind me, not caring how loud it banged and not caring who I woke up.

"Cunt." I hissed under my breath, aiming the expletive at Freddie. Why was he taking Johns side? It's him whose been lying and making up stories that aren't true, not me, I haven't done anything! Everybody gangs up on me and tries to make me out as the guilty one...when most of the time it isn't even me.

I threw my case onto my lonely, empty bed and opened it, trying to find something more comfortable to wear but really not having the patience to do it nicely, I pulled out a jumper and pushed the case off my bed, watching the contents of it spill all over the floor.

I was so fucking angry. I needed to pick something up and throw it, punch somebody in the face...or fuck somebody.

Well John won't want to touch me, no use in trying it on with him. I knew of one person who would be willing though...

And then I made myself shudder. How could I? How could I let myself think like that? Let myself think that if I could find Patrick, he'd probably let me fuck him. How low I was. My boyfriend was in the room opposite me yet here I was, standing in the middle of this room all by myself, clutching a jumper, thinking about cheating on him.

I couldn't do that...and I wouldn't. I got myself in such a tangle when Becky kissed me, I thought I was the worst person in the world. And now I'm finding myself wanting do to something worse...with another man.