Chapter Text
January 1972 - London
~Brian~
The trial had been going on for about a week now. He was just so tired and all he wanted was for this to be over. He hated sitting in that room, listening to recounts and evaluations of the worst thing that had happened to him. He wanted to kill everyone on the jury and judge. He knew it was their job to be detached, but they were speaking like it didn't happen, like he wasn't a person. The only thing worse than this was watching his friends' horror and sadness. It was a vicious cycle, Brian felt sad, so his friends felt sad, which made Brian more sad, and so on. Oh well, at least he had friends
The trials drew on forever, but at all the recesses and breaks, the boys went out for lunch or relaxed themselves. Brian wasn't eating very much anymore, and it was beginning to show. He had always been lanky and tall, but now he was clearly malnourished and sunken. His friends were starting to worry for him now. "Bri, dear, could you please just eat something?" Freddie patted his back as he tried to reason with him. Brian looked across the table at Roger and John, who both looked equally concerned. He looked at his hands, and nodded his head. It wasn't his friends' fault, and he knew he was causing them pain. They hadn't done anything and they were in pain. It was all his fault. He wanted to eat, to sleep, to speak, to show them he was better, but he just couldn't. You're so selfish he heard the voice in his brain mutter, and he wanted to help his brothers, he really did, but he just couldn't do it. He looked up at their melancholy faces, "I'm so sorry." He whispered before dropping his head and looking down at the table. It was a miracle Freddie had heard it, he had been so quiet. "Oh, darling, you've nothing to be sorry about, we only want you to be better, that's all." Roger and John looked confused, they hadn't heard any of it. Brian only nodded his head in apology. He was too tired to cry.
They'd returned to the courtroom, and Brian decided he just couldn't take any more of this. He just wanted his assaulters gone. He never was one for revenge, but he had been worried they would come hunt him down, hurt his family.
The trial passed after a week. A week of silence and suffering for Brian, but they had been convicted, and they would be okay. Brian had to stop feeling sorry for himself, and tried his hardest to get better for his friends. Freddie and John kept reminding him that it was okay to be sad, but he had to get better for them. He wasn't going to be a burden.
He had tried so hard, met up with psychologists and therapists. He actually did start to feel better, kind of happier. Perhaps it was just being able to do something for his room mates for the first time in a while. Seeing himself improve made his band happier, which made him happier in return. Things were finally starting to look up.
He hadn't seen his girlfriend since the night, the last time any of the boys had contact with her was when Roger had called her when they were looking for Bri. He should have called her, but he wouldn't. Nobody did, it was odd, but they boys were too angry and Brian was too sad, so it was a surprise when she appeared at their doorstep.
Brian had been lying on the sofa, John and Freddie in the armchairs and Roger sitting on the other sofa when they heard a knock on the door. "I'll go get it," said Roger, standing up. He unlocked the door, but he made no sound. 'Rog?" Freddie called out. Brian couldn't see what was going on at the door, but it would be an understatement to say that he was shocked when he heard her voice. "Is Brian here?" She asked shakily. Roger looked over at Brian before turning back to her, "What are you doing here?" He asked, angrily, about to shut the door. Brian stood up on his feet, his iron deficiency clouding his eyes for a second. He walked over to the door, where Roger made space for him.
He looked tired. She took a step forward to hug him, but Brian took a step back. It wasn't her fault at all what had happened to him, and Brian really did believe that it was his fault she'd cheated on him. He didn't know why he was acting like this, but he couldn't stop. His sad eyes met hers. "May I come in?" She asked, almost indignantly. Brian sighed, he really should let her in. "I guess so," he said, defeated. Roger shot him a confused look as Brian opened the door and let her in.
The boys cleared the room and moved into the kitchen to give Brian privacy. She sat in John's armchair while Brian reclaimed his place on the couch. She looked very uncomfortable, and Brian felt a bit sorry, but he was too tired to do anything about it. "I thought we could speak, maybe," she asked calmly. "About what, exactly?" Brian asked. "I'm too tired for this," he said, sighing as he put a hand to his forehead. He actually didn't want to do this. "Brian! Don't act like you don't care!" She yelled. Brian sighed, looking at her in the eye. "Do you have ANYTHING to say?!" She yelled. If he listened closely, he could hear Freddie whisper-yelling at Roger to stop, whatever Roger was doing. Brian just sat there, quietly. "So that's it? You don't care enough to even say sorry? You just left me, Brian. Stop looking dead, it's not all my fault, you know." Brian sighed, just sitting and enjoying the silence for a bit. "No. You're right, it's my fault I wasn't a good enough boyfriend, but you left me, if I remember correctly." Brian met her eyes again. "Bri, baby, I want to get back with you," she said.
It was then Brian's eyes started tearing up. He hated her so much, and he hated himself for doing this to both of them. He shook his head, "No, I'm not getting back together with you," and as he said it, he knew he'd made a mistake, "Brian, you're a bastard, you know that? You leave me, and disappear because you want attention. You didn't even check up on me, once," Brian had shook his head. Nobody had told her, and he really didn't want to. "Okay, now that's settled, you'd best be off," he stood up, about to open the door for her, when Freddie's defeated shriek came from the kitchen, and Roger burst out. "You BITCH! He nearly died, and you have the FUCKING gall to come here." He ran to her, but Brian grabbed him. "Roger, stop," it had no effect though, Roger couldn't hear him, he was yelling. She left the house, crying. They all were. But it was over, and he could get back.
It had been a year since the trial, and as much as Brian had tried to forget the night in September, 1971, he couldn't. Instead, he had learnt to live with it.he would always be scarred, but he was lucky he had lived. The band had really taken off, and it was an outlet to everybody's frustration either. He wasn't glad this had ever happened, but at least it had brought him and his brothers closer.