Chapter Text
'I'm so fucking done'
'No, wait. Fucking hell, Jim stop, wait. Where are you going? It wasn't that bad. Please wait, what the fuck, c'mon.'
'No, actually - it was. How long?'
'What?'
'Was I bleednig? How long before you told me?'
'No, man, if I didn't notice, nobody did. Stop worrying, Jimmy, please. It was fine'
Fine. Everything was always fine and good enough. For Rodgers it was always good enough. No matter how many fuck ups.
'He hit me. Was I this awful? To hit me in my fucking face?'
Paul seemed shocked. 'Who? When? Somebody beat you, Jimmy? Why?'
He didn't believe. In his fairy, ideal world violence didn't exist.
'Nobody beat me. The guitar guy hit me in the face. With my own guitar. Didn't notice, huh?'
'No, what? How come? I mean it wasn't on purpose, c'mon.'
Of course. Accident. Shit happens. Especially when you fucking pitiful, pathetic shit. Jimmy was. Everybody knew it. In fact everybody saw it. Tonight. Every night of this nightmare of a tour.
'Told you it was a stupid idea. Making a moron of myself in front of them. Poor Jimmy. Junkie Jimmy.'
Broken.
The last one he left out.
It was the fifth night of their American tour. The worst so far. The most humiliating. Why did he agree to do that? Because of Jeff? Out of boredom? Obviously, Ronnie Lane and his condition didn't have to do with anything here. Bastard friends assuring him that it will be fun? It will be good? Maybe. Well, it didn't matter anymore. He was so done. Everybody has seen him bled through the song. Poor Jimmy. Addicted Jimmy.
Broken.
'Jimmy? Please, come on. Stop it. They all fucked it up. We all did. Wasn't your fault. At least some of it.' Paul Rodgers. Child of happiness and optimism . Everything is fine. At least according to Paul. He was probably the only reason Jimmy hasn't gone back to England yet. Paul was here and apparently he wanted to continue this comedy. Not sure why, Jimmy had been following him and doing the gigs. Till now.
'Please, I fucked up big time. "Midnight moonlight"? I don't know what happened there. I'm sorry, I really am. Anyway, it's not the reason to call it off, right? We'll get better. Now come on. Let's join them, they've already started drinking. Stand up, Jim, let's go.'
So they went. The party was warming up. Jimmy always tried to sneak in and out unnoticed. With Paul everything was easier. Child of optimisim. Smiling and laughing. Maybe one more evening won't hurt that badly. Maybe we'll get better.