Work Text:
It was your birthday. You weren’t really planning anything fancy, probably just going to stay in and binge on TV shows while eating cupcakes. So, when Brian and Roger called and asked what you were planning and if they could crash, you decided to at least go out. The three of you had a nice lunch at a little cafe, before heading out to browse through small shops. Nothing big, just little places with nick-nacks. You found a jacket that you really liked at a second-hand shop, and Roger found an antique chair that he thought would go great in his living room. All in all, it was a pretty lovely day, away from the bustle of the tour and recording an album.
You got along well with Brian and Roger, ever since the beginning when you signed on for the tour. They had needed a pianist, and you were the one they choose. You hadn’t started out as chums with them, merely having a working relationship. You usually were able to play your instrument to their satisfaction, and you took their criticism well. Despite not being in the spotlight, fans started noticing you, partly because of your dress sense and partly because of the performance chemistry you had with the others. The fans seemed to love you, regardless of the fact that you hadn’t done much more than play the piano.
That changed one night, however, when Adam’s mic stopped working. Brian and Roger managed to bring the song to a close, without much trouble but the next song was Somebody to Love. And well, it would be a lot harder to sing that. You remembered the glances that Brian and Roger had shot at you. Not demanding, but asking. You remembered leaning toward the mic, starting with the beginning line.
“Can anybody find me somebody to love?”
You could recall the panic that rose in your throat as you started the intro on the piano. A♭, E♭, Fm, D♭, E♭7, you thought through chords of the intro. Even now, sitting in a cafe, you could feel your ears burning at the memory.
Brian and Roger had stared at you, amazed. Sure, they had heard you sing before (you didn’t know then that they had overheard your rendition of House of the Rising Sun), but this was different. They knew how nervous you got, how you hated even drawing any excess attention to yourself. The two musicians had only recently been able to coax out of you that you were a fan of their music. It was something else to hear you sing one of their songs. Brian gave you a thumbs up, and a grin, hoping it would help calm your nerves a bit. You blushed, but it helped. At least you had their approval. Now you just had to worry about the crowd. You had sung Somebody to Love before, but only alone, in the shower, or car singing along with the incredible vocalist. You knew you could hit most of the notes, or at least you were able to hop up or down an octave, so you didn’t completely embarrass yourself with a voice break. But you were still afraid. You could feel your palms sweating. You had only just gotten a little bit used to performing with Queen. And now you were singing and playing. But the show must go on.
You had finished the last notes of the song on the piano, and the whole audience burst into cheers. Adam came up to the front, and you could vaguely hear him complimenting you, and explaining why you had to make that impromptu performance. Your ears had been burning, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. You had barely made it through the rest of the setlist; having to run off stage and throw up. That’s where Brian and Roger had found you, crouched over the toilet. You were crying but weren’t quite sure why. They had comforted you, praised you, and reassured you that ‘no, we do not hate you.’
So from that day on, you had helped Adam with the singing. It was still called Queen + Adam Lambert, but you sang as well. You had worried that Adam would be angry with you, but instead, he had only laughed and said that ‘I’m glad you’re singing too. My vocal cords can’t do it on their own.’
After the tour had finished in 2020, Brian and Roger had wanted you to stay around. So you did. Six months later, Queen published their sixteenth album, entitled ‘To Life and Love.’ You were the lead vocalist. The album featured songs that had never been heard before; ones that hadn’t been right for other albums for one reason or another. Other songs were newer. One was written by you. Unsurprisingly, the album had been a success. For the first time since 2010, a Rock album was topping the charts. Queen fans were loving it. Even the critics were saying good things about it.
“Queen continues to top charts over fifty years after the band started. Their current lead singer is an incredible vocalist with a unique style, reminiscent of good old classic rock. Despite the obvious nostalgia, Queen shows a talent for innovation and creativity. These are not just two septuagenarians remembering the glory days; they are two rock stars continuing to shape their legacy.” - Wrote one well-known critic.
Of course, there was the usual backlash, but nothing that Queen couldn’t handle. But then it got really bad. The paparazzi started being even more invasive (you hadn’t been sure that was possible, but apparently it was). It finally came to a head, ending with you having a panic attack, in the middle of a crowd of reporters, who wouldn’t let up. Even Brian had had enough. It only stopped, when John Deacon, himself, had sent an email to a newspaper, telling them that he was completely fine with you being part of Queen, and even going as far as to say that he thought you had an excellent voice. That had shut them up.
So, here you were drinking tea and coffee with Brian May and Roger Taylor on your birthday. You had all been working on your second album together, and although it was fun, it was hard work. It was great to take a day off. Then, all of a sudden, Roger decided to take a shit on you. Not literally, but his words had the same effect as if he had.
“We want to talk to you.”
You could feel panic rising. Your stomach tightening into knots. They quickly noticed.
“No, no. It’s nothing bad, Hamster. We just want to talk to you about something.”
You relaxed slightly but were still tense. And yes, Hamster was your nickname, it was a long story.
“Rog,” Hissed the silver-haired guitarist. “Is this really the best time?”
“Better now than never, Bri. You never know…”
You coughed.
“What do you want to- ah- talk about?”
Brian took a deep breath, apparently gearing up to say something important.
“Roger and I won’t be here forever.” He began.
You blinked. You usually tried to avoid that fact, but it was inevitable.
“And, well. Rog and I have been thinking. For a while now, actually. And John as well. That maybe-” He paused. For one so usually articulate, Brian was having a bit of trouble spitting it out.
“After we’re- gone, retired, what have you, that you’ll go on making music. Not just you, but Queen, I mean. That you’ll find another guitarist, drummer, bassist, and keep on making music for Queen. Maybe we’ll even find them with you, before, I mean.”
Roger picked up where Brian let off.
“Can you imagine, Hamster? Queen going on and on, new albums. People who understand music and the spirit of Queen.”
You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes. Why me? Of all people, why?
“Why me?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Because if there’s anyone who gets Queen, it’s you. You have the talent and the heart, Hamster.”
“We don’t expect you to spend your life with Queen, though. You can go on ‘till you want, and then pass the torch to someone you think is worth it.”
“And you talked to John about it?” You managed to choke out.
“He thought of it. He wanted you to.”
Brian looked at you, sympathy in his eyes. It was a lot to ask of someone so young. A lot of weight to rest on young shoulders.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. And you don’t have to answer now, take your time. It’s alright to-”
“I’ll do it.” You broke in.
They looked at you.
“Are you sure?”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have offered.” You smiled.
______________________________
You couldn’t help but look around a bit, marveling at all the lights and people. It had been a while since you performed live, and even then, you hadn’t been singing your own song. You could feel Roger’s eyes on you from behind, where his kit was set up. You could see Brian off to the side. The new bassist, Joff Barrons, opened the song with the well-known driving riff that you had written for this song. Hoots of excitement came from the audience as they recognized the song. Then came the cue.
“Self-satisfied and dwelling in despair
Leave me to enjoy my misery.
Let me have my cake and eat it too,
Cut it with the double-edged knife.
Serve it sliced with icing.
Take a bite and relish
The taste of misery.”
Despite the rough and heavy Rock ‘n’ Roll beat, you sang the lyrics with a soft playfulness that caught the listener off guard.
“Did I ask to be saved?
Leave me be,
In my pit of reticence.
Ignorance is bliss,
After all
It does you no harm to
Leave me to enjoy my misery.”
It had been a fan favorite ever since it first came out, on Queen’s second album of the 21st century, ‘Ships That Never Sailed.’
“Despite all that is said,
Minds never change.
Over and over again.
It may be truth, but do we care?
Let us choose our way,
Walk your paths of ideology
But leave me to enjoy my misery.”
People had likened it to Queen classics, such as Seven Seas of Rhye, March of the Black Queen, Tie Your Mother Down, and Killer Queen. But as Roger had said in an interview, ‘It is its own song.’
The bridge was a bit different, a rolling sway.
“Who cares anyway,
In the world of give and take?
Ignorance is bliss,
In a dog eat dog universe.
Leave me to enjoy my misery.”
The audience joined in on the last chorus.
“Did I ask to be saved?
Leave me be,
In my pit of reticence.
Ignorance is bliss,
After all
It does you no harm to
Leave me to enjoy my misery.”
As the song came to a close in a grand finish, you glanced back and Roger and Brian. You grinned. This was Queen now. This is what it was. And you got to be a part of it. Queen would go on, as long as it could. It wouldn’t end with Brian and Roger. Maybe it wouldn’t even end with you. After all, you thought, the show must go on...