Chapter 43

                                    

                                          
"I hope you're joking," I responded incredulously.
                          
"John, what about our album?" Brian added.
                          
"Yeah, and who else is going to fit into my V-neck blouse?" Freddie cried.
                          
"Guys, I haven't agreed to anything yet," the bassist tried to calm our rising nerves, "It's just a test period...a trial! All he wants is to see if I'm a good fit or not."
                          
No, I thought as his words settled in the silent air, No, no, no, no! This cannot be happening again; this seriously cannot be happening again. My eyes widened as another thought crossed my mind. Oh my god, Brian was right. He was fucking right.
                          
Brian chuckled in disbelief and shook his head, crossing his arms. "A good fit? John, you're a good fit here! With us! You can't seriously be considering ditching us for another band right now."
                          
"I need a cigarette," I dejectedly mumbled, getting up from the table and scouring through the kitchen drawers for a pack. I needed to stop myself before I let myself get too far. I could feel it happening, and I couldn't afford another outburst. It'd only push John farther away.
                          
The bassist sighed as Brian and Freddie started going off on him, averting his gaze over to me. However, I kept my back to him, my hands starting to shake as I yanked open drawer after drawer without finding any cigarettes. He stood up and walked over to me, wrapping his hand around my wrist in an attempt to soothe my visible anxiety. I instinctively shook it off, though, tearing my arm away from him and meeting his gaze with eyes full of hurt.
                          
"It's going to be okay," John whispered to me, repeating the same five words he told me just hours prior to this and ignoring the singer and guitarist's continued remarks as he gave me his full attention.
                          
I shook my head in disagreement and returned my attention to the drawers, rechecking the ones I'd already looked in and muttering, "Shut up."
                          
"I mean it," he tried to convince me, dropping his hand on my shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze that I imagined he hoped would come off as reassuring. However, reassured was the last thing I was.
                          
"I said shut up," I retorted harshly.
                          
"Roger..." 
                          
"I said shut up!" I snapped, slamming the drawer shut and going to leave the room to look elsewhere for a smoke—knowing that there had to be a pack somewhere in the flat—when John's hand shot out and stopped me. "LET GO OF ME!" I shouted, the scene I was making going unnoticed by the singer and guitarist who'd continued their conversation about John amongst themselves.
                          
"Roger, please," the bassist pleaded softly, keeping his hand wrapped around my upper arm and his desperate eyes locked on mine.
                          
"Get your hands off of me," I growled, trying to pull myself out of his tight, unrelenting grip which he only made tighter in response, wanting me to understand the situation—that he wasn't leaving me; that he wasn't going anywhere. I wasn't a fool, though. I'd seen this happen before and I knew it was happening again. Nothing he could say would change that.
                          
"John? John!" Brian exclaimed, wanting the bassist's attention back after his and Freddie's rant had come to a standstill.
                          
"WHAT? WHAT DO YOU FUCKING WANT FROM ME!?!" he screamed, silencing the three of us almost instantly. His gaze flickered among us, darting from Brian to Freddie to me and then to the floor as he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. He wasn't the only uncomfortable one in the situation. Typically, John was never the one to get heated in moments like this. In fact, he was usually never involved. He avoided our arguments like they were the plague, keeping quiet and finding other things to do until the storm passed, so his outburst was a shock to all of us.
                          
The guitarist let out a long breath and sat forward, clasping his hands together on top of the table and answering calmly, "I want you to tell me exactly what Tim said to you. That's all."
                          
"All he said was that he and his band are doing a short circuit around Britain and he wants me to play with them," John explained softly, keeping his head down to hide the redness in his face that had grown an even deeper shade, "It's just for a week. I-I thought you guys wouldn't mind since all my parts for the album are already done and recorded..."
                          
Brian met my gaze, his eyes saying everything his lips weren't. He knew exactly what I was thinking; exactly what I was afraid of. It felt like history was repeating itself, and I wasn't so sure I'd be able to handle it again this soon. It took me ages to get over Tim abandoning us, and I didn't believe I ever would until I met John. And here he was, doing the exact same thing Tim did. Who knew how long it would take for the wound to heal this time? 
                          
The guitarist returned his attention to the bassist and said, "You know, John, you're right. You shouldn't waste this opportunity. It'll be good for you."
                          
He lit up at the surprising response. "Really?" Brian nodded his head, a small grin accompanying the gesture. "Th-Thanks, man. I-I really appreciate it."
                          
"Of course. But I think you should consider also taking Roger with you."