Maylor: The Love Story Of Roger Taylor, And Brian May

Chapter 11

BRIAN'S POV
    "How're you feeling, Brian?" Freddie asks. Everyone was looking at me with concern. I didn't want them to feel bad for me, I really didn't.
"Really good actually," I say. I feel Roger squeeze my hand tighter. "Really guys, I'm good." I say, and put a big, stupid grin on my face.
"Cut the bullshit, Brian! Look at yourself," Deacy says. I was quite surprised he cursed. Deacy rarely cursed. I look down at myself, and jump. I never really looked at myself. I had cuts all over my hand, and a cast on my other arm.
"Hand me the mirror, please," I say. Roger hesitates, then hands me it.
"Oh my god!" I cry out. There were cuts, and scars all over my face. I had a huge, dark red scrape on my nose. My right eye was black, and blue. My left eye had a blood clot in the corner of it. There were stiches, and a bandaid on the corner of my forehead. There was a large IV in my arm too. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. I needed to get up, I needed the bathroom. I let go of Roger's hand, and use that hand to start removing the blankets.
"What are you doing?" Roger asks, concerned.
"I need the bathroom," I say with blankets fully off.
"You need to stay in bed," Deacy says. I start to swing my legs around.
"Ouch!" I cry, Roger jumps. A pain rises up my leg.
"Please Brian?" Roger asks. I manage to swing my legs around, and use my free hand to push myself up. The pain in my leg intensifies, and my leg gives out. I feel myself start to fall, but am catched by Roger. I look up to him, fear on his face. I was making him worry again... I stand up, with Roger's hand on my back, other hand holding mine. I see Freddie, and Deacy just staring. I put my head down to avoid their gaze.
"You guys can go now. I've got this," Roger says. Thank god, I couldn't bare their stare anymore.
     They leave the room, quietly.
"I got you," Roger says in a soft voice. He guides me to the bathroom. I'm limping with almost every step. Everything hurt. We reach the bathroom, and I haul for the toilet. I can't hold anything in anymore, and I vomit. I really shouldn't have drunk that much yesterday. None of this would be happening.
     I feel Roger pull my hair back, as my face is in the toilet. He's rubbing my back, telling me everything is going to be okay. I just want to go home, and sleep for days.

ROGER'S POV
     Brian spent a majority of the day over the toilet. I felt bad for him. I know he said it was okay, and it wasn't my fault. I didn't believe that, and I still don't. I needed to make it up to him, somehow. I'll take him out when he's allowed to leave. Fred and Deacy wouldn't be coming tomorrow. They had to talk to Jim, and other people about pushing the tour back. The tour management heard about what happened to Brian, and wanted to set the tour back. It would be a couple months before Brian would even be able to play again. I wonder how Brian would take it. Playing is his passion. It's all been ruined because of this accident. Because of me...

     It was going on 9 PM, and Brian was doing was better. The nurse brought in dinner for him.
"Roger, you need to eat," he says looking at the food.
"I'm not hungry."
"Roger!"
"Fine! But I'm taking some of your food," I say, while moving the chair next to his bed. He lets out a laugh, one of those laughs of pure happiness. He pushes the tray so half is on him, and half is on me. We ate dinner, and talked about the tour. He was so upset that the tour got pushed back. He was convinced it was all his fault. I told him that it wasn't all him. On the brighter side, we got more time to practice. He agreed, but still felt bad. Brian was being too hard on himself. He needed to know it would be okay.