Work Text:
Freddie's POV:
His curly hair poked out of the covers, his whole body buried in heat. He usually snored, but now he didn't, so I guessed he wasn't really asleep. The air of the room was chilly, barely bearable in shorts and a T-shirt. Every lights were closed.
The wall in front of the bed was pineapple yellow, every other one was white. Brian didn't want it to be too flashy when I wanted it to be full of colours. But it was okay, I still decorated the house with my style and he didn't complain so much.
I walked quickly to the bed, freshly out of the shower, hair still damp. I got under the covers and curled as closely as possible to the warm body beside me. His arms held me tight against him. He put his long leg on top of mine, it made me even more confined, but I couldn't get enough of it.
He put a light kiss on my forehead. His comforting gestures quietened all my worries and soothed my anguish. His long fingers caressed the wavy hair I always insisted on straightening, much to Brian's dismay. I didn't feel cold anymore, all of the warmth of my boyfriend embracing me so well.
"I love you." I whispered against his collarbone.
"I love you too." He answered as quietly as me.
It was a quiet and dark night. I didn't like them so much, I was glad there was someone with me to make it better. He didn't need to say anything to make me feel loved and less lonely. He made every single thing in my life better.
"You seem nervous today. Is everything alright, baby?" He asked me with concern.
I prayed for something like that all my life. For a man to be able to read me like an open book, without me having to say a word, without having to say everything that was on my mind. He could do it better than anyone else.
"It's the bloody album, Bri." I said without pulling away to look at him like I usually did.
"What about it?"
He rubbed my back gently. I didn't want to say. I didn't want to disappoint. To make him feel like what I was doing wasn't good enough, that I wasn't good enough. It kept ringing in my head, and it was so fucking loud. Because if it was true, it meant I didn't have my place in this band.
"John has already got a song, Roger has already done two and I can't count the number of songs you've already written. And I've got nothing, absolutely nothing!" I exclaimed.
He shushed me a bit, telling me to calm down, to not stress out too much. But it was too big in my head, I couldn't get rid of it. It kept eating me up from inside. It kept getting me anxious. And I tried so freaking hard. I was trying every night until so late to find something. I spent so many hours at the piano, playing random melodies to finally find one that was good. But it didn't happen one time.
"You told you had started to write something?" He said, a bit confused.
"I lied." I whispered as quietly as possible.
"I'm sorry." I then said.
His arms tightened around me and I felt like crying. He kissed in the crook of my neck and put one of my legs around him. I could feel his beating heart with the palm of my hand, he could feel mine with his own hand.
"It's okay, we have time, love. Don't stress you out with something like that, you'll come up with something eventually. You always do and they're hits more than half the time." He said, not knowing how much more weight it truly added more on my shoulders.
What if I couldn't do it anymore? It was beginner's luck. My songs weren't nearly as good as Brian's songs. Or any of my band mate's songs. And they kept creating new ones, while I was left with my old ones, not being able to find one lyric that was any good. I didn't want to disappoint everyone. I didn't want to let them down.
_____
We were trying to record some song Brian had written. I couldn't hit the bloody note he wanted me to reach well. Well I could, but it was either too soft or to harsh. I tried countless times, but I just couldn't do it, and it was insanely frustrating.
"I could try." Roger said.
I went to protest, because I was the one singing in that song. Not him. But I didn't because it was his song, and maybe he'd prefer it was Roger singing instead of me. Because I couldn't sing it properly.
"Sure! Go for it, Rog!" He exclaimed.
The blonde man went in front of the microphone and sang it. It was clear, he hit the note, not too soft, not too harsh, it was perfect. Brian gave him a thumbs up and told him it was perfect. Of course he'd get it perfectly in one take when I tried multiple times with no good result.
Brian and John were discussing Brian's song while I was trying to get any freaking word to put on the sheet of paper in front of me. John changed something on my boyfriend's sheet and Brian said he liked it. He was always arguing when I ever tried to change anything in his songs.
"I'm not sure the piano part fits in anymore though." Brian quietly said.
I felt all hot. I didn't know if I felt angry, or only disappointed. Maybe he just though I wouldn't be able to do it? Maybe he was right to think that. But now I had nothing left to do on the song, since I was neither singing or playing piano in it.
"You're removing the piano?" I asked quietly.
He looked at me with slightly wide eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but he closed as quickly, not saying a word. They didn't really need me. They could do well without me, maybe it would be better. They wouldn't hear me complaining so often.
"It's fine, darling." I assured, but I didn't feel fine.
The following night, I slipped into bed before him. He took his shower and I didn't join him like I usually did. The bed wasn't as warm as any other day. It was cold and uncomfortable. I wished I could have fell asleep before Brian came to bed, but I didn't.
"What's wrong, love? I missed you in the shower and you don't usually go to bed so early." He asked me as he put me closer to him.
"I'm just tired."
I wish he didn't believe me. I wish he held me closer in his arms and insisted on me telling him why I was so sad. I wish he had cared more, enough for him to notice that I wasn't only tired. I wish he let me play the piano in his song. I wish he let me sing even if it wasn't perfect like he wanted it to be. I wish he loved me as much as I wanted him to love me.
What was wrong with me?
I was expecting him to see things I wouldn't have noticed myself. I wanted him to know me more than I knew about myself. I was expecting too much from him, I wanted things that would never happen to me.
Maybe I could leave them. Let them find someone that would bring them up, not down like I did. Let them find a singer that was good and could sing what they wanted for theirs songs. Someone that wouldn't disappoint them. Someone that would be better. Someone that wouldn't be so selfish. Someone that was good enough.
"Go to sleep baby, you need to get some rest. " Brian whispered.
"I love you." I said.
"I love you too." He replied.
I wish he meant it.
_____
The stage lights were hot on my skin. Drops of sweat gathered on my forehead quickly. The audience was crazy, screaming and singing along to every song. It was one of the bests we ever had. Brian, Roger and John were playing incredibly well.
But I couldn't do it. It was only the third night of the tour. And my voice was cracking every time and Roger has to sing half the bloody songs to let me rest it. It never happened so soon, my voice was usually fine this early!
It was ruining everything. I wouldn't be surprised if people walked out. It wasn't even enjoyable. Many people could have done way better than I ever did that night. The worse was that if it was that bad tonight, it would be even worse the next nights. It wouldn't get any better.
When the show ended, I didn't bother waiting for the boys to go to the hotel. I took a taxi and went to Brian and I's room. I removed my leather pants and leather jacket and went in the shower, wanting to finally feel clean instead of sweaty.
The water and the soap didn't wash away my thoughts like I hoped they would. I dried myself with the towel and put on boxers. I put my clothes back in my suitcase and got in the bed. The heating was high, but it was cold. Because Brian wasn't there to wrap his arms around me.
The door eventually unlocked and Brian was there. He took his shower and got under the covers a few minutes after. He took my head in his hands and put a soft kiss on my forehead. I smiled weakly at him and he whispered he loved me.
"I was worried about you. Roger and John wanted to go to a bar. Why did you leave so early?" He asked.
"I'm sorry, dear, I wasn't really in the mood." I responded.
"It's okay, love." He said while kissing the back of my hand.
_____
The press was as brutal as I expected them to be. There weren't any wishes of getting better. All insults, worn out Mercury, became too old to do this, lost his magic, never really been a good singer.
I was tired of their opinions.
I sat Brian in front of me. He held my hands for me to talk. I'm pretty sure he understood it was important. I crossed my legs while his stayed straight. He looked at me for a while, waiting for any word to come out, and some eventually did.
"I can't do it, Brian." I quietly said.
"Can't do what?" He asked me while he squeezed both my hands harder.
He looked confused and I tried to explain, but I was too scared.
"Singing, writing, performing. Queen." I explained.
His eyes widened and he let go of my hands. I looked away, not able anymore to look at him in the eyes.
"Where the hell is this coming from?" He asked with drops of anger in the mix.
"And what are you gonna freaking do? Because if you're not with Queen, how are you gonna be with me? I don't fucking understand! Why are you doing this?" His voice got louder.
I put my head in my heads, I could feel a headache coming.
"It's better for all of us."
"How is this fucking better for all of us, Freddie? Have you got a deal? Is that why you're not telling me? You've a got a solo deal?" He rambled.
I felt like I was gonna explode. It felt like my chest was on fire. Brian watched me with eyes that could kill. I never wanted something like that to happen. I never wanted him to look at me with those eyes. The eyes he usually gave to others to protect me.
But the truth is that I knew something like that would happen. I had thought about this, losing Brian while doing that. I mean, it's not like it would be such a loss for him, well aside from losing his career, temporarily. Because they'd quickly find a new singer.
"I haven't got a deal, Bri. I just can't do it. Look at me! I've been doing shit for months! We had to move the making of the album to later because I couldn't write anything! And I'm not even able to sing anything properly anymore!" I explained.
He nodded, his face still bitter, his eyes still a bit angry.
"Fine, so what if you left the band. What would happen to us? Did you even think of our relationship?" He asked.
When I looked away, he understood.
"Wow." He deadpanned.
He crossed his arms, shook his head and scoffed. It wasn't anger anymore, it wasn't bitterness, it was disappointment. This heart wrenching disappointment, that made me wanna run and never look back.
"So you were willing to throw everything away, weren't you? To turn everything upside down, and for what?"
I didn't understand, why he was so offended, why he was so angry and disappointed. He wasn't losing anything big, and he'd get better in the end. It wasn't like I was taking from him something so important and great.
"I don't get why you're so angry, Brian." I whispered.
He looked at me and laughed out of disbelief.
"What the fuck is going through your head, Freddie? I'm angry because I love you and you just want to break us up for some stupid reason you're not telling me! I fucking love you! Is that a good enough reason?" He said with wide eyes.
"I'm not much to lose, Bri." I added quietly.
He frowned at me and took my hands silently, he made me sit on his lap. I didn't dare look at him.
"That's not true." He affirmed slightly firmly.
"I thought you'd be more relieved. You wouldn't have me to let you all down. You could have someone that could sing right and that could write and you could have someone that could love you properly. I know I'm a lot to handle for what I'm truly worth. I-I'm not enough for Queen, Brian." I said, not without feeling like I was gonna break down crying.
He stared at me with his mouth half opened, his eyes slightly wide. Like it was surprising. Like I would ever be enough. He wiped away the tear I had never noticed had fallen. I sniffles, trying to keep it all in. So fucking embarrassing.
"You don't need me, Brian. None of you does. Roger's great for the singing, you're great too. You don't need the piano, and if you did anyway you could do it. I don't know what I'm doing here, honestly. And it's all gone tits up because of me."
"It hasn't gone tits up. Is it because of my song, baby? Is it because Roger sang instead of you and that I cut your piano parts?" He whispered.
His hands laid warmly on my cheeks, forbidding me to look away. I don't know why, but just that made it more difficult to hold the tears in. Him, looking at me with the sweetest eyes. I finally let go, more loudly than I ever intended to. He brought me closer to his chest.
"Oh love... Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say?"
"It's not just that." I said, my voice damp with tears.
"It's all the songwriting that I just can't do. The tour I fucked up, and then the press saying all these things. I can't take it, Bri. I can't take all the pression. I can't do it, I'm not good enough to do all this." I cried.
He sighed loudly and rubbed my back at a steady pace. The same beat as the one of my heart. I held onto his back, my fingers almost digging in his skin with how much I wanted to feel him, to get closer and closer to him.
"Freddie, you're fabulous. I love you and I'm here okay? You can do this! You're good enough for it, and you didn't fuck anything up. You just need to relax a bit. Talk to me when it gets too much okay? I don't want those kind of thoughts to take over in your head, it can't be good for you. Understood?" He said with a small smile and a small frown on his face.
I nodded, face still buried in his chest. I inhaled his scent. Just that made me feel so much better. It was fine, he was there, he understood. He loved me.
_____
"I did it!" I screeched at Brian.
I held up in front of me this sheet of paper, filled with words. I had done it, I had written a song. He smiled at me, straightened up his arms in front of himself and wiggled his fingers at me. I jumped in his arms quickly, probably crumpling the paper.
"I told you you could do it, baby. So, will you show me this new masterpiece?" He whispered soothingly.
I pulled a bit away, still sitting on his lap. I unfolded the sheet and gave it to him. Before even looking at it he kissed me on the forehead. I shyly put some hairs behind my ear while he read my song.
This time, the words had formed quickly and easily in my head. The pencil slid on the paper like a knife in butter. The words were felt and from the bottom of my heart. And I was so proud, I had done it.
You Take My Breathe Away
"Oh I love you, Freddie. It's perfect, you're perfect." Brian said my a wide smile at his lips.
He let go of paper and squeezed me between his arms and his warm body.
"I love you too."