So Many Years (And Finally, I Believe)
Title: So Many Years (And Finally, I Believe)
Rating: PG
Pairing: Joger
Time Period: 2017-ish
Warnings: a teeny tiny bit of angst in the beginning, but with a happy ending
Disclaimer: I don't own Queen, and this is sadly fictional, for all I know
A/N: There's a lack of Joger fics, as well as a lack of old/present day Queen fics, so here's my attempt at changing that with my first ever Queen fanfic. Hope you enjoy it! ^_^ (AO3) & (LJ)
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It's not like Roger had been out, looking for him. It had been long since he had last stopped by places - or walked by slower - that he knew him to frequent ...or used to frequent. He had soon realized that it was for naught, because if John was set on staying hidden, he was likely not to be found, not even by one of his oldest friends.
Brian had tried, too, a couple of times, had met John once, but the word exchange had been over quickly, and John had been on his way somewhere else. More often than not, Brian and Roger had simply run into each other, exchanging a sad shrug. They missed him around, badly so, but at some point... Brian had sighed and told Roger to let their friend be, he'd let them know if he was ready to come back, talk to them again.
It hadn't happened.
It hadn't happened for years, and Roger's heart still clenched when his thoughts went back to John on random occasions, maybe even more so than the times they'd be playing one of his songs, and he and Brian shared a gaze filled with nostalgia, and sometimes the slightest hint of tears appeared in Roger's eyes.
Of course, he knew, he should be happy for John. He was alive and well, from what he guessed. It was when his thoughts got to this point that he started really tearing up, and Brian would come and give him a comforting hug, because they were old, and Oh God, Brian, we lost half of what we used to be. Tears never made it go away, they just seemed to dampen the air, making it hard to breathe.
Sometimes he dreamed they still were the band they used to be. The friends they used to be. Some years he sends silly post cards to John's old address on his birthday, but not every year, even though he always remembers. Sometimes he feels like it's even worse than having lost Freddie. Losing someone during their life time simply because their path split ways... it feels almost more crushing some days.
It's, in all honesty, not even like he thinks of him every day, or every week or so. He finds himself even sadder when he realizes that, at some point, he had given up on seeing John ever again. He feels ashamed for letting it come to that. But the feeling that's dragging him down when he first gets to that realization doesn't improve even when he tells himself that he had never wanted it to happen.
He only manages to gasp when he runs into John in front of a supermarket in Rio.
They're touring and he. He did not expect to see John. Not here, nor ever again. Brian had talked him through that often enough by now. It's been over two decades, but nevertheless, he'd recognize John anywhere, for they've known each other so well for even longer.
There's panic flashing up in John's eyes, and Roger finds himself stretching out his arms, trying to grasp for him before he turns on his heels and leaves, much like that one time Brian met him on a walk. But he drops his arms. He can't tell why, but maybe it's the fear that he's just gotten so old that he's hallucinating, or maybe... no, he won't even think of anything worse that this could be. So, in the end, all that leaves his mouth is a quiet "...Deaky?"
And he had seen it in John's eyes, that surprising glint of sadness when he had dropped his stretched-out hand, but his mind had been elsewhere.
"How did we let it come to this?" John asks equally quietly, intentionally not meeting his eyes. Roger huffs.
But at the same time, he doesn't feel up for the fight. Or the long talk that they might have if John would allow for it. Or his schedule. They have a concert planned for tonight, and Roger isn't sure how he's going to endure being on stage, when somewhere else in this town of millions, there's John, finally, after so many years.
They stand there, in front of the supermarket, quite awkward, honestly, and Roger knows that he should be back at the hotel soon, Brian will be worrying, and Roger still isn't that fond of smartphones, or rather, using them, and he knows John is probably only there on vacation, or his son is sneaking to one of their concerts again (he'd seen him, thinking about approaching them in the hallway of the VIP area backstage one time, but the moment their eyes met, and he himself must have looked so hopeful yet devastated, the kid had only hastily stumbled away.)
So he sighs; it feels like the same old story finally came full cycle, and here they go again, and will it be another twenty years or other events that bring them together to the same place again eventually, he doesn't dare think, and so he makes sure he meets John's gaze before stepping closer, and holds his friend in a tight embrace, whispering, hoarsely, the slightest hint of tears forming in his eyes: "Come tonight. It's been too long." and he lets go, and turns around, and he can't look back, not now, not if this was the last time.
And that night, he'd love to be able to say that he saw two familiar eyes shining in the mass of the audience, but of course he can't, the concert hall is too big and too crowded, and even though he'd love to be able to say that he felt John was there, in the crowd for once, he knew John would not do that, no matter if he cared, being too scared to be recognized and cornered.
But Roger can say that he never felt as much relief flood through his veins as the moment he spots him, looking quite lost, as always, in front of the dressing room post-concert, and then he's already rushing toward him, and behind him, Brian lets out a clearly shaken "Deaky", and he doesn't mind when his hug becomes a three-person hug, all kinds of messy (and also sweaty, but heck, they just played a concert, and they used to be like this for so long back then, too, really none of them minds, not even John, who hasn’t been on a stage for oh so many years) and Roger lets a laugh that seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat out, raspy because he is exhausted from the show, because he is old, and because he remembers that one time Freddie told him to believe in miracles, because "they do come true, Rog, darling, you just have to believe in them", and he knows that they'll be fine.
He has no expectations or misconceptions about John's being here, doesn't see him wanting to get back into the band, and he knows it because he knows John, but this is enough, and he lets a heartfelt, heart-wrenched "I missed you" past his dry lips, and John looks up at him, still half held by Roger, half by Brian, and holding on to the both of them, and he says, honesty radiating from his words: "I missed you, too."
Later, he tells Roger as they sit next to each other on the hotel couch, long after Brian left, unwilling but tiredly, moaning about his back aching a bit even though he was exercising, "I always got your cards. I should have told you thank you before you apparently moved." and Roger is about to reply to him, say that it's alright since he is right here, right now, in the right place and time for once, but John pulls out a birthday card that already looks so much like those he'd use to send him when they were younger, and Roger freezes.
"I always kept this one around when travelling, just... in case." He nods to tell Roger to just take it and open it already, and Roger can't do this, but in the end, he does, and it just says "I'm sorry. Happy birthday x IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII", each I in a different ball-point pen's trace and colour, marking a year gone by, and John is staring at the floor, and Roger is not having any of this. "We can talk tomorrow, but will you maybe just sleep next to me tonight?" and John looks up at him in surprise, his cheeks still colouring quickly, and he moves his hand up, as if to brush aside his hair the way he did when it was longer, and Roger doesn't think he's ever seen a more adorable-looking 66-year old like him and nods. "If you want to. But I would much appreciate it." And John looks both sad and happy, and there's a smile tugging on his lips when Roger beams at him, and he's laughing when Roger tosses a pair or pyjama bottoms at him and just exclaims - grinning at John's critical gaze and raised eyebrow - "You know that you should wear them even if they do not fit- it's not like it ever made any of us stop sharing clothes, after all". And maybe, he thought, lying next to a dozed off John many an hour later, this was where they would - fitting to their lives now or not, did that really matter? he responded to himself with a clear 'no' - start sharing memories again.