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“Another night, Fred,” Roger’s voice still echoed in Freddie’s ears, long after everyone had left, “We should all be getting back to our kids, and our wives. You know how it is.”
Except that he didn’t know how it was, Freddie thought as he pulled the whiskey from the back of the liquor cabinet. It wasn’t often his drink of choice, but he did have a penchant for it on nights like these when he was cold and alone in the dark of his house and needed something to warm him from the inside. He poured himself a bit more than the few fingers he’d normally go for, leaving the bottle on the counter as the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach pulled him to the sofa.
He wrapped the thick, knitted blanket he kept in the sitting room around his shoulders as he curled up against the cushions, the fire from the hearth casting a warm glow in the otherwise dark flat. His mind kept turning as he sipped at his drink; it wasn’t jealousy that overcame him, Freddie knew that. He didn’t want the wife and the kids and the white picket fence - he knew he would never have that. Even when he was with Mary his heart told him that wasn’t his future. It was just that it all seemed so simple, he mused. The others got to do exactly what was expected of them, and that was one expectation Freddie would never be able to live up to.
He thought about how even if they didn’t have their wives, the slew of girls throwing themselves at their feet certainly gave them enough to choose from. It wasn't that he didn't get his fair share of female advances either, it was just that he wasn't interested. End of story. The agony of being unable to live authentically wasn't a burden he wanted to pass on to another woman - or to himself, if he was honest.
The whiskey gave a pleasant burn as the amber liquid slid down Freddie's throat when he took another drink, smooth and radiating a warmth he couldn't quite seem to find anywhere else.
What Freddie did envy about the others was how they never had to give a second thought to who they had on their arm, how they were able to hold hands freely in the light of day and tuck their honeys beneath their chin without fear of showing gentle affection. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to have that, even if he did by some miracle find someone who loved him. And it was that particular brand of loneliness that ate away at his heart, that the others wouldn’t - couldn’t ever understand.
Instead, he lived his life in the shadows, slinking off to dark corners and abandoned alleyways after finding a big strong man in an underground bar to help him fool himself into thinking he was cared for. That is until the rays of dawn threatened to unveil the sins of the previous night and condemn those who dared act upon their desires.
A helpless tear rolled down his cheek and Freddie was quick to wipe it away before taking another drink of the whiskey, listening as the house settled around him. The creaks and groans that echoed off the walls of the empty home only served as a reminder of all he was missing - the warmth and joy of having friends and family there, the quiet safety of walking through the front door and seeing light pouring out from another room, the sure signs of life blooming around him.
It wasn’t often that he missed the way things were in the early days, they’d struggled so much to finally work their way up to the success that they knew now. But the familiar intimacy of the four of them piled together in a one-bedroom flat, determined to make it work, often pulled at Freddie’s heartstrings, the nostalgia making him fear that he hadn’t taken it all in and appreciated it enough while he still had it.
He couldn’t remember the last time the four of them had a night just to themselves, all squished together on the sofa with far too many blankets as they watched a bad film and passed around a cheap bottle of wine and some cigarettes. He’d lost count of the amount of times they’d fallen asleep curled up against one another back in the day, creating a certain air of intimacy that bonded them so close together from the very start.
They’d cultivated that love, that safety, that togetherness in almost every aspect of their lives, Freddie realized. Even in the most simple ways, like when he’d been the one to do all of their makeup. There was something to be said about being able to take Roger’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilting his head this way and that as Freddie admired the way the light struck his stunning features. He thought of the way John was the most quiet of the three, happy to sit and place all of his confidence in Freddie’s capable hands, only occasionally quirking an eyebrow at his choices for the evening. Brian had always been the most eager to take things into his own hands, often plucking their trusted kohl liner right from between Freddie’s fingers and applying it around his eyes himself.
Freddie remembered how they’d all been inseparable at the start - he knew they still were, just in a different way now. But that knowledge didn’t stop him from missing the quiet mornings where he’d wake up to find Roger wrapped around his back, even though his own bed was but five feet away on the other side of the room. His heart felt as though it was being squeezed as the memories of bumping hips with John in the loo as they crammed around the sink to brush their teeth flooded his mind. He could so easily feel the ease with which John would reach out and brush a stray strand of hair from Freddie’s face, or wipe off a bit of toothpaste from his chin before flashing him a small smile, toothbrush hanging between his own lips.
Living alone had been quite the adjustment, so much so that perhaps he wasn’t entirely used to it yet, years later. There were certain mornings, when sleep still clung to his consciousness, he could’ve sworn he heard Brian padding around in the kitchen as he made tea for them. The way he always used to. But when the clouds of sleepiness would clear and as Freddie opened his eyes, the disappointment was palpable in the back of his mouth and his heart would sink at the realization that he was alone.
Again.
Now, the boys were all off doing those domestic things with other objects of their affections and Freddie was left to linger through the past as an escape from a future he didn’t want to look too far into for fear that the same constant barren isolation was awaiting him. He fought the heavy lump forming in his throat by finishing off the bit of whiskey left in his glass, coughing slightly before he got up to refill it. He knew that in the morning, the heaviness in his heart would lift slowly in the same way that the dew on the grass would evaporate into the sunlight.
But until then, the alcohol would pleasantly blur the sharp edges of his pain before soothing him to sleep, in a bed that was far too big, in a house that was far too quiet.