Chapter Text
"Drinks, Brian?"
Bri sighs as John asks that question so timidly of him after they've done recording. He feels the thrum twanging still through his fingers and works them a bit, glancing at Deacy through the curtain of his midnight curls. "...In a bit, yeah," he manages, trying to offer a smile that he is sure looks like a rictus bloody grin. Great. "Think I ought to go for a walk first."
Get out his kinks and his idiotic self-loathing rage, perhaps; the heavy freeze of anger that is still dogging at his heels from when he exploded earlier. He wonders if John will say anything, but Deaks just nods at him and walks to the door with Freddie, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans jacket, and leaving Brian to feel an ache bloom and grow and spread through his heart.
Rog looks back over his shoulder and offers a cheeky wave and obscene gesture after John obviously mutters something about what Brian has chosen to do instead of going for drinks with them right now. He is almost persuaded to change his mind, but at the sight of John and Roger giggling about something and Freddie beaming fondly at them, the ugly green-eyed monster of jealousy rears its fiendish head and Brian turns back to put his guitar in her case. He therefore does not see Freddie blow him a fond kiss as he leaves. Nor does he register the gentle understanding in John's backward glance, or the flash of concern in Roger's.
The lights go out in the rest of the studio and Brian is alone now as he sighs and puts Red down. He runs a hand through his hair and looks away for an instant, only to hear a disapproving "Oh, too big for your britches to go out with them?" He jerks and whirls back to see Red, sitting in her case with legs folded and fingers tapping on her arm. Her mahogany gaze bores into him. "What was all of that, Brian? You traumatised poor Deacy."
"I--" he instantly swallows in shame, even as his heart is thumping madly because here she is again and is he more insane to imagine this happening twice? A jacket hangs by the door and she grabs it, slinging it round her shoulders, and he sees clothing on her shapely legs and torso this time. How on Earth did--no, leave it, Brian, he remonstrates himself. Wait. Hang on, hold the bloody phone- "... Traumatised? I HARDLY think--"
"No, you wouldn't, because you were so involved in your own hurts that you didn't think about his." Cocking her head, Red adds "Did you take to heart anything that I told you last night? You can't keep doing this to yourself and the boys."
She raises an eyebrow as she studies him, and Brian's shoulders slump. He feels like a chastened child. "...I know," he admits. "It's just--" I feel so much and my worries are endless and "... I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since I have no idea when, save for last night, at least."
She shakes her head and sighs. "That isn't all of it, and I know as much as you do, you stubborn man." She leans forward and up onto her toes to ruffle his curls fondly, and Brian blinks, unable to stop a tiny smile from flitting across his face.
"I'll--I will talk to Deacy," he promises. "I just really do need to take a walk first."
"And you ought to eat," she reminds him. "You haven't had a thing since breakfast."
"Err... I-- didn't exactly eat breakfast," Brian admits hesitantly.
Red gasps and whacks him lightly on the arm. "What! Well that's certainly part of your problem, Brian May--you are most assuredly hungry." Shaking her head at him in a fond manner "What am I going to do with you?" She asks.
Bri ducks his head. "I don't know," he offers. And then because he cannot help himself: "But... please don't leave me."
Red's features soften and she leans against his side. "I would never," she says. "Now let's go--I'm sure there are ample places to get a meal around here, and I've simply got to try some food!" The guitarist stares. "What? It won't be a problem, just close up my case and let's go."
"So you're...not a figment of my imagination, then?" Brian asks her as he obediently holds open the studio's door, slinging his case over one lean shoulder. "...Or am I going to look mental, talking to myself?"
She winks at him but does not answer his questions. "It depends on what you believe," is all she says.
"Ugh. Are you always going to be this bloody cryptic?" Bri rubs his curls in frustration. Red laughs at him, skipping ahead down the hallway and out into the world.