TWO YEARS AND SEVERAL DAYS LATER....

Freddie realised the one thing that would change his life forever. He rushed home from the recording studio, battling the bitter cold. He opened the door to his apartment, locked it behind him, and took off his jacket and shoes. After that, he sat at his desk, found his diary in the lowest drawer, and scribbled:

January 27 1973

This is perversy. This is pederasty. This is paedophilia.

But I am crazy about the boy.

* * *

Roger was sitting at his desk. His blond head was buried in his arms. He was worried. What was wrong? Everything was wrong. He, whom all the girls ran after, wanted nothing more than... no, this as wrong. He needed to see the doctor. Was he going crazy? Was a brain tumour making him delusional? How could he EVER feel this way?

He took out his diary and stared at a blank page, not knowing where to start. Five minutes later, the only progress he made was:

January 27 1973

Another five minutes later, he decided that in a diary, he did not need to think - all he needed to do was to write. And so he did.

Why John, of all people?

He wrote in neat, small letters on the middle of the page. After this, he put away his diary, rested his head on the desk again, and started crying.

TO BE CONTINUED...