Chapter Text
After Freddie’s apologies the guitarist just gave him a little smile and a head shake before gesturing him to follow him into the kitchen. They could talk there and let Roger take his well-deserved nap.
“Tea? “Brian asked as they entered said kitchen, “Just made myself one, water’s still hot.”
Freddie simply nodded, giving his friend a weak smile,
“Yeah, thanks, Darling,” he whispered – it was almost inaudible.
Brian just nodded one more and turned around to get a cup and tea bag.
“So, why exactly are you here, Fred?” the taller man eventually asked after handing his friend the hot cup of tea and sitting down at the kitchen table where the singer already had sat down as soon as they entered.
Brian already could image why he was here but he still wanted to here it out of his friend’s mouth. And so, he patiently waited for Freddie to reply. In fact, it took the older man a little while to actually answer, minding the curly haired man’s eyes for as long as he possibly could – just shaking his head and looking down at the steaming cup of tea in front of him.
“You know why I came,” Fred said as he finally looked at Brian who was now raising his brows as if to say. ‘I do, but I still need to hear it from you’.
Freddie sighed, getting the message,
“I came to apologize.”
“There we go!”
“Look, Brian, I – I’m sorry and I – I didn’t want any of this to happen, I just – I still can’t –,“ Freddie started but was interrupted by the guitarist who knew that Freddie was being honest, he had seen it in the singer’s eyes as soon as he had appeared on their doorstep just a minutes ago.
“I know you are,” he simply said and there was indeed a little smile on Freddie’s features to see after that, relieved that the astrophysicist believed him,
“and I know you didn’t want any of this to happen, it’s not you who put Rog in that state but, Freddie – it’s not only that, you know that, don’t you?“ Brian stopped and let out a sad sigh while shaking his head and giving Freddie time to think.
“Do you really trust that man more than your own friends? Your family? Well, that is if we’re still your family – because, as you claimed the other day, we aren’t anymore. . .”
“Brian,” Fred started.
“No, Fred, look – I know it’s a rough time, we all know that. The Album wasn’t as much of a success as we had hoped for it to be, we know you find touring to be rather exhausting right now too, we understand, obviously we do. Nonetheless and especially since we’re all going through the same thing right now, we truly thought you knew you could come to us. If you’re really feeling alone, not cared for and in need of help you should have at least told and talked to us about it rather than let a stranger; let Paul take control. Let him get inside your head, let him poisoning your mind. . . the drugs, the alcohol. He’s using and destroying you, Freddie but you can’t see it, just like John had told you two days ago. You told us you’d have nobody but, Freddie, you forgot that you have us; all of us and you had us right from the very beginning. Roger, John and myself, we all just want the old Freddie back – we watched for far too long without doing anything even though we should have. And God knows, John and I should’ve listened to Roger in the first place,” Brian spoke his mind.
He wasn’t raising his voice, wasn’t loud or angry but said all this with a gentle and meaningful voice and serious expression.
“I don’t blame you but you have to understand that we’re all mad in a way, disappointed too, you chose him over us, Fred,” he added, his eyes fixed on the singer, whose expression was full of regret.
“What happened to Roger isn’t your fault but Prenter’s, we know you could never do such a thing,” Brian went on, “Rog was lucky, it could have ended much worse for him. It’s not that we could have lost our drummer and our great vocalist, I could have lost the man I love and you, Fred, you could have lost your very best Friend.”
At the mention of that, especially Roger being his best Friend, the older man’s heart broke a little. Roger was indeed his very best friend. He had been even before QUEEN; before he even joined SMILE. They had lived and worked together, they had spent Christmas together with a can of beans and dry toast, barely getting by and yet it still they had made it and it had always been fun because they had each other and now this.
Why did it have to come so far for him to notice?
Freddie’s mind was racing and full of things to say but yet he was speechless. Brian watched him but didn’t say anything either. He knew that the singer needed some time to think about all of this, if he hadn’t already when he left two days ago (Which Brian hoped he had).
“What can I possibly do to make this right?” Freddie said after long ten minutes of silence, mainly to himself. His voice suddenly shaky and he spoke so quietly that the guitarist almost couldn’t understand him.
“I’ll be honest with you, Fred, I can’t tell you that for sure. What I can tell you though is that it will take a bit of time to be fully forgiven. You should speak to Roger about it and John too. They are hurt, just like myself. As much as I’d like to help you. . . but this is something you have to do by yourself now. If you truly are sorry and want to make things right again, which I know you are and want, you can do this.”
Freddie nodded slowly while his eyes wandered from Brian back to his now cold cup of tea. He wanted to make this right so badly but he was unbelievably scared that it was too late now. Obviously, he was more than happy that the curly haired man understood despite him still being disappointed, like the rest of the boys.
What if they weren’t so understanding? – but then again, he couldn’t blame them either. Not in the slightest.
“We need you, Freddie and you know that you need us. What we, especially you, don’t need is Paul Prenter. And you know that very well.”
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Roger who had been deep asleep, sprawled out on the sofa with a blanket on top of him which his loving boyfriend had placed there before he had opened the door to let Freddie in, was now slowly waking up. The drummer whined a little in pain due to his injuries but mainly in displease as he felt Brian’s lack of contact. Slightly, he opened his blue eyes, adjusting them to the bright light in the living room, while looking around rather confused, searching for Brian.
It was already dark outside and still raining heavily, like it had been for literally days now – which made Brian not being there unusual, he wouldn’t go for a walk in the dark while it was raining, especially not without letting Roger know while he was sick – so where was he?
With another groan, the blond sat up, running his hand through his messy hair, yawning before stretching.
“Bri?” the drummer asked but his voice was a way too quiet, hoarse and drawn with sleep for anyone but Roger himself to hear.
It wasn’t too long after that, that the blond got up, deciding to look for Brian when he heard his voice from the kitchen.
Who the hell was he talking to? Was he on the phone? No, their phone was placed in the living room. Ronnie and John? But they had left this early afternoon, right?
Roger had his suspicion but decided to check anyway. And as soon as he stepped closer to the kitchen he could indeed hear the voice of the man he had suspected. Freddie.
‘What can I possibly do to make this right?’, the drummer heard his friend say before Brian’s words followed.
Roger didn’t dare to say anything just yet, waiting for Brian to finish and carefully listen to his voice and words as well.
‘We need you, Freddie and you know that you need us. What we, especially you, don’t need is Paul Prenter. And you know that very well.’ Brian had said and that was when Roger decided he couldn’t hold back.
“He’s fucking right,” Roger suddenly said with an unreadable expression as he entered the kitchen. His eyes, maybe or maybe not, filled with tears. Tears of disappointment and pain.
“Roger?”