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Roger sighs. He couldn't sleep, tossing and turning on the bed for hours— he's getting quite annoyed now.
He looks to his side, a vacant empty bed amidst the darkness of the night. Freddie isn't home yet.
He's been out for a some time— to a local bar he goes to every so often. He said he'll be there for a while, but he's been gone for hours. From all the time he spent trying to go to sleep, Roger guesses the time's around midnight now. Yet still no sign of Freddie.
Maybe a cup of tea would help. Roger thinks
The blonde-haired man gently opened the bedroom door making sure not to wake the others in the flat from their slumber, including Brian. He swiftly makes his way to the kitchen without making a sound.
Roger heats up the water, gets a tea bag and prepares his cup. Nothing's on his mind at the moment, all he wants to do is drink his cup of tea and have a nice relaxing sleep under the covers of his bed— he's really tired after all.
After his tea's been finished he takes a sip, the warmth of the tea spreading through his body feels comforting especially for a cold night. He takes another sip and enjoys his quiet moment in the kitchen.
His moment of peace suddenly stops when Roger hears a slight crack from the front door, the sound of it opening and closing in the quietest sounds ever. That must be Freddie.
"Fred?" Roger calls out from the kitchen. No answer.
He probably didn't hear him, Roger thought. He places his cup on the tabletop and heads out of the kitchen, turning the lights off. He looks around to see Freddie isn't near anymore. He heard the bedroom door shut quietly, Roger follows.
He opens the door. "Freddie?" Still no answer.
Freddie's curled up in the corner of his bed, head down with his knees on his chest— almost like a fetal position under the covers. Roger's worried for his friend, he really is. Normally whenever he comes back home he would either go to sleep or talk to him about ideas going on his head. But no, this is different. This isn't like Freddie at all.
"Freddie, are you alright?" He comes closer and places his hand on his dear friend's shoulder.
"D— don't. Don't touch me." His voice faint, almost like a child's. Roger removes his hand. He can feel his heart like it's gonna burst from his chest. He's severely worried.
"Did something happen? You— you can tell me Freddie, I'm here." The younger gives the elder a reassuring smile. Roger searches for some reaction on Freddie's face, but the dimness of the room could only make him see Freddie's dark, glossy, lifeless-like eyes staring into nothingness.
"I—" He finally makes a sound but he couldn't make up his words. He sniffles. Finally, Freddie turns his head to face the blonde in front of him.
Roger was completely in shock, how could anyone do this? A cut on his lip, a small bruise on his forehead, and another bruise starting to form on his cheek. Roger felt his blood turn cold.
"Freddie... How— what— who did this to you?" His voice concerned as ever. He wants to know who did such a cruel thing to Freddie, one of the kindest and brightest souls ever.
Freddie looks away— unable to face his friend's worried expression, he sniffles again as he tries to hold back his tears.
"It— It's just— " His lip trembles. He wanted to say it but he couldn't bear to witness Roger's reaction. He clenches his hands on the bedsheets. Nobody should ever see him in a state like this, how embarrassing.
"It's alright, you can tell me Freddie. I'm here, always." Roger's gentle voice comforts him a little. He loves his voice, the slight rasp in it makes it comforting in a way Freddie couldn't explain. Just hearing his voice would make his day much more better— but not in this situation.
He finally lets it all out. While hugging him, Freddie breaks into loud sobs on Roger's neck, gripping on his shirt like he's afraid he might disappear any second.
"T— They— It's—" His words blend into his sobs, completely unrecognisable— almost like gibberish. Roger waits for him to finish. He knows Freddie couldn't speak a single word clearly no matter how loud or quiet his sobs are.
"Shhhh, it's alright Freddie. It's alright" Roger lets the elder sob. Seeing him in such a state breaks his heart to a million pieces. He rubs soothing circles on Freddie's shoulder to ease him down, feeling his boney spine on his palm.
He can feel how wet his neck is from all the tears and snot— but that doesn't matter. His friend needs help, and he's there for him.
"I— I'm so sorry.." Freddie managed to croak after all the crying. His sobs died down to much more quiet and calm ones.
"It's fine, it really is." Roger assured, still locked in an embrace as if he's holding a small child in his arms. "Do you mind telling me what happened Fred? If it's fine by you of course."
"They kicked me out." Freddie said, still sniffling.
"Kicked out? From what?"
"From the bar!" He yelled, wincing after realising how loud his voice is when he didn't mean it.
"But you love that bar! You go there all the time, why'd they kick you out now?"
Freddie goes silent, and hesitates. He wants to tell Roger— but a part of him says "Don't tell him, he'll just know how weak you are and can't even defend yourself. You don't want to be embarrassed, don't you?"
"It's fine if you don't want to tell me Fred, don't force yourse—"
"They hated me."
"Hated you? For what?" He sounds so puzzled but he really is trying to help Freddie the best as he can.
"What— what do you mean for what? I— Isn't it obvious??"
"Freddie—"
"They hated me for being such a bloody f*ggot Roger!" Freddie shouted with a hint of disgust on his mouth. He pulled himself away from the blonde.
"They— they hated me f— for wearing women's clothes!" He gripped on the white blouse he's wearing, the top he bought a few months ago from the womens section in a local clothing store.
"They— they said I didn't belong in that bar and I should run away to a gay bar instead..." He murmured.
"Jesus Fred, you shouldn't listen to them. They're dickheads."
"But they're right Rog— right about everything. They were right about how— how much of a f*ggot I am. Right about I don't belong there— I don't even belong anywhere!" He blurted out.
Freddie could feel tears streaming down his face again, he couldn't hold it back anymore.
"They were right about how weak I am that I couldn't even defend myself! I mean look at me! I'm a complete mess!"
Freddie is having a breakdown and Roger couldn't do anything but listen and wait for him to finish. If he cuts him off now, it would just get way worse.
"And that's not all. They stole m—my wallet too!"
"You wallet?!" The thought of someone harassing your friend and mugging them makes Roger's blood boil. How can anyone be this horrible?
"I loved that wallet too, it was given to me by my fucking parents for my 18th birthday, I valued that wallet s— so fucking much. Now it's gone! Because of me!" Freddie bawled. He clutches onto Roger again in an embrace.
"It's alright, It's alright. Let it out mate." Roger pats his back gently. Soon, his cries eased down to quiet sniffles again.
"Hey hey, you know you're loved by people Fred. Me, Brian, the others. You're loved by all of us. Don't let those hurtful words get to you, hm? They're all complete shitheads, you know that."
Freddie nods.
"And how about I'll buy you a new wallet tomorrow, after Smile's gig. Is that alright?"
He nods again. "T— thank you, Roger." He muttered. "Thank you for being such a great friend, I'm lucky to have you." Freddie added.
"You're welcome mate, y'know I'm always here when you need me." With a pat on the back, Roger breaks the hug and rests his hand on the elder's shoulder.
"Let's get your wounds cleaned up in the bathroom, eh?" He suggests.
"That sounds like a great idea." Freddie smiles.