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The rays of moonlight pool in the room, bathing Freddie Mercury in a glow that's inviting and warm. He knows that's false. The sun usually does that job very well, the moon is a poor substitute, functioning so that the person isn't lonely and that is very different from being alone. He knows that he can't keep doing this forever, at some point his bandmates are going to drag him to bed by hook or by crook, but he promised the world that he would be a legend, and he can't fail, not when he's this close.
He knows they're worried about him. The other day, Roger spoke with Fred about it, which quickly became a shouting match involving crying and saying words they know can never be taken back. The day after, John made him breakfast while quietly pushing a pamphlet about insomnia, to which he got irritated and left poor Deaky all alone at the breakfast table and then yesterday, Brian talked to him about the consequences of being an insomniac, providing statistics to back up his statement (He then yelled at Brian to shut up and stormed out of the studio). It's not that he's not making any effort, his ideas are just too grand, too magnificent to be forgotten the next morning. He knows they're fast asleep anyway. Roger's moving around to get comfortable, John's holding him tightly, and Brian's hushing them both to go to sleep. He chuckles to himself, it's funny how long they've been together to notice those little details. Sighing with content, he tunes his focus to his song. It has to be perfect, it just has.
"Fred? What on earth are you doing at this ungodly hour?" Startled, he whirls around and sees Brian May, starry pyjamas and a raised eyebrow. He's bathed in the moonlight too, and he looks so prepossessing and then he remembers: he's made of stars and planets and whatnot. His breath hitches, taking him all in. "Fred? You still there mate?" Brian asks waveringly.
"Yes I'm fine, darling. Now get back to bed." Fred croaked out. Brian's now getting impatient. He can tell from the worried lines on his face, despite his constant nagging on frowning.
"Another song? Look, Fred, we're glad that you're putting in so much of effort into the band, but you need to take a break too. Come, let's go to bed together. Roger and John really miss you." Fred only stares up at him.
"And what about you, Brian?" he whispers. "Do you miss me?" Brian's now flabbergasted.
"Of course I do, Freddie! Now let's go to bed!" exclaims Brian, tugging on his arm.
"That's unbelievably sexy coming from you, Brian. You should do that more." he smirks, hoping that Brian doesn't see through his persona. He does, he always does. That's when Brian loses it.
"Okay, that's it! You're always staying up late, either writing songs or doing god knows what, and I want it to stop! So far, you made Roger cry, Deacy's concerned and I've had it up to here with your shit! Stop acting like a pretentious prick, and just come to bed. We can discuss it in the morning."
Freddie just stares down, hands trembling. Music sheets filled with wild 3 am thoughts, bandaged fingers from playing the piano way too much, summers spent with delusions of grandeur, only to cruelly wrenched from it all with those words. But is he really one? Thinking of the hurt faces of his lovers, he feels guilt. His palms are sweating, he can't stand, and he feels the world is spinning fast, as though wanting to throw him off, so he does something which anyone will do if they're in his position. He breaks down.
!!
"Fred? Oh god, Fred, I'm so sorry!" Brian's crouching down, and it's when Freddie realises how truly ethereal Brian really is. His curls envelop him, akin to how the night sky cloaks him, keeping him safe. He's now holding him close, not wanting to let go. Brian's murmuring words of encouragement, stroking his hair and kissing his forehead. Freddie looks up at him and leans into a kiss, it's messy but it's Brian, and he tastes of the stars. How can one taste of the fucking stars and planets? They both feel the cosmic collision, and they're loving every second of it. However, that moment is cut short when the door sharply swings open, resulting in both of them pulling away.
"Fred? Brian? What's going on?" Roger flops down on the floor with them, sunshine hair bouncing along. It's one of the uncountable things he loves about Roger. He's an angel, with his voice, his beauty, his personality, it's like staring at a Grecian bust. They both blew hot and cold at times, but something always brings them back to each other. Is it desire? Love? Freddie chooses to believe it's the latter. "Fred? Are you alright?" asks Roger, his big blue eyes staring at him nervously.
"Yes darling, I think I am." says Fred, looking up and Brian. He mouths 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 and blows him an air kiss. Brian, with tears in his eyes, mouths 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰𝘰 and kisses him on the cheek.
"Yay, finally!" Roger's cheers echo throughout the hallway. Freddie laughs in response, not caring if the world wakes up, because what has he done to deserve lovers like them?
"Hey guys, sorry for interrupting this moment, but what are you all doing on the floor?" Deaky's hovering above them, a quizzical expression on his face. Roger's the first to respond.
"Fred's alright now! He now knows that he needs help, and we're going to do this together!" he yells, gesturing wildly at the sky.
"Oh, thank god." John sighs in relief, now joining them on the floor. Roger kisses Freddie, mumbling an apology.
"No darling, I'm the one that needs to apologize. I acted like a prick and pushed you all away when I needed you most. I promise that we will never do this to each other again, you understand?" There's a beat of silence, and Roger nods in agreement, Brian hugs him and John snuggles closer to him. That's all he needs as a validation.
They remain like this until the first sunlight ray hits them, bathing them in a warm glow he's been looking for. Staring at his three bandmates-turned-lovers, he whispers a thank you to the sun, for reminding him that he's not lonely anymore.