Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hello? Is there anybody in there? Is there anyone home?

Was it?

That is apart from scattered polaroids, clothes tossed here and there in every corner and side of the small room, scooped out wardrobes and suitcases opened wide. Was it really anynone there?

That is apart from physical presence. What about mentally being there? Existing, living.

That is apart from ripped or broken objects and hearts, memories filling a void and frankly, turning it into a deeper one instead of rapidly, effectively vanishing it.

It's hard for one to come to terms with not being able to decipher whether or not they're actually somewhere. Whether it's not just the body present, but the spirit is as well. This shit's ought to be crystal clear, people have to be sure and not constantly question where it is they belong to.

Or whom it is -they belong to-.

Come on now, I hear you're feeling down

More like simultaneously feeling all the feels if she had to be honest which she did, for once in her life she did have to without any terms or conditions whatsoever. It's never a piece of cake neither phsycially, nor emotionally when you're forced to say goodbye to an old self, an old love, an old house.

Especially if you were the one who made all of this happen. If you caused this madness. If this was all strictly your fault, if no one else can either take the blame upon their sleeve or share it with you instead.

Well I can ease your pain, get you on your feet again

It wasn't necessarily pain she was feeling, one could say it indeed wasn't the first thing that came to mind if someone went straight up to her and asked her how did she feel, no. It wasn't pain.

It was something far worse, that sickening feeling piercing through her guts.

Great philosophers -or phychiatrists- call it guilt, that something you feel when you act on your bad, intrusive thoughts causing the people closest -or not- to you to get hurt. Yes, that's the accurate description.

Guilt was eating her alive, devouring every cell of hers.

And that's not even the worst part. You'd guess guilt would disappear into thin air in case you finally made up with the person or the people you caused great sadness to but no. This wasn't the deal with her.

The only person who could currently erase all negativity, take away her pain and stick the broken pieces back together was the person who actually put a hand in all of this, who contributed, the person with whom she spread so much unbearable sorrow.

Her boyfriend's best friend.

Or should she say, ex boyfriend's?

I'll need some information first, just the basic facts, can you show me where it hurts?

Honestly? Pretty much everywhere.

Now one can interpret this both on a literal and a metaphorical tone. Like for example in a literal sense, her entire body was aching because of carrying suitcases and bags all day from her place back to Brian's and the other way round, climbing ladders to tear frames away from much too high spots on the light yellow wall of his hallway, folding her laundry before she neatly places it in her suitcase etc.

No one usually talks about the mental pain the mind suffers with when you have to let go though. When you have to take a step back and turn into a plain observer in your own life, when people decide for your life whereas it should've been you. Because it was the truth. Brian did decide for both of them.

"LISTEN TO ME, HEY, LOOK AT ME." He screamed on top of his lungs amongst both of their excruciating cries, letting a few more tears shed before his palms found her shoulders in a manner that wasn't supposed to be aggressive but eventually turned out to be so whether or not he wanted it. "It's over. Done with. I don't deserve this and you're too fucking well aware of that. You're storming upstairs, packing your things and leaving, right the fuck now, go."

His honey coloured, watery eyes never looked so serious.

She wished they shimmered out of happiness.

There is no pain, you are receding

How can there not be? And from what was she receding? Shame? Guilt? Fear she might pass out if she ever was to run into him ever again? And by him she meant the person she'd thought she'd spend the rest of her meaningless life with.

Why did she always have to fuck everything up just like that?

"My happiest days are yours you know that right?" He happily sighed, pressing her slim form tighter on him while her back hit his torso.

"I might've gotten a glimpse." She gracefully raised her head for him to catch her lips to a lasting kiss. Breaking it they both shared a prominent smile, which developed into a full on grin before he attacked her right cheek with another kiss. "What about your nights though?" She coyly brought up, clearly mocking him.

"I don't know actually." He shrugged and she gasped, immediately backing off from his embrace to turn her body around and face him, staring at him utterly shocked.

"Whoa whoa what's that supposed to mean I demand answers." She might or might not've joked but Brian wasn't having it. He knew her way too well, so he stepped up his game.

"It's about me and the stars mostly." He started off, warmly smiling to her direction. "Unless..."

"Where are you going with this?" She smirked, crossing her arms on her chest before lifting an eyebrow. Brian ever so slightly moved his body to stir closer to her and wrapped her in his long arms again.

"Unless you're not my star." She felt his breath inching just above her ear, his whisper invading her personal space, surrounding her.

A distant ship, smoke on the horizon

Ah, the trip to Greece. Wonderful experience and people, transcendent cuisine and flavors, the deepest blue seas their eyes had ever taken in.

Landing on the Eleftherios Venizelos International Airport of Athens took place at 5 pm that Friday afternoon thus they had plenty of time until 7 to get a taxi and hurry over to Piraeus to ascend the ship and travel to the place that's so called one of the prettiest, most dashing grounds a person can ever step foot on.

Santorini.

Happy days. Carefree. Their second summer vacation together.

She stared and stared at the picture on the frame in front of her, not quite compehending how two people can be so madly in love one day, then not dare speak a single word to each other the other. Was she so dumb she totally failed to do the math? Was there something she was missing?

Her eyes shuttered closed and she let out a trembling sigh, frame in her hands threatening to drop any minute if they didn't stop shaking right then and now.

You are only coming through in waves, your lips move but I can't hear what you say

"BRI DON'T, I- I CAN EXPLAIN." She attempted to stop the guitarist from exiting the room while she hastily picked up all her clothes from the ground to put them on.

"Fucking hell Bri fuck it's not what it looks like we're- we're literally hammered." Roger added, dizzily trying to collect his pair of jeans and boxers as well.

Brian scoffed, taking reluctant steps back while his quivering fingers awkwardly stroked his sweaty forhead.

You don't walk in on your best mate of the last 5 or 6 years humping your girlfriend of 2 years every day.

"Oh yeah, sorry, pardon me go-" he thickly swallowed and took another 2 steps back. "Go on." He finished, not getting around to reaching for the door before she caught up with him, not wasting time to grab his wrist in order to stop him.

Not calculating that he had no intention of letting her do so.

His palm forcefully got a grip on her wrist instead, silently putting in the picture there's no turning back now. His eyes shooting sparks and his teeth being gritted were more than enough signs for her to read what thoughts were encircling her boyfriend's brain.

Things'd taken a turn for the worst case scenario.

When I was a child, I had a fever, my hands felt just like two balloons

Now I've got that fever once again, I can't explain, you will not understand

This is not how I am

"I SWEAR TO GOD IT'S NOT WHO I AM I-" she sobbed and sobbed so intensely for so long, Freddie thought she'd a hundred per cent get short of breath and eventually either have a full blown panic attack or a heart attack right on the spot. "I AM NOT THIS PERSON FREDDIE YOU KNOW THAT FREDDIE YOU-"

"Darling PLEASE breathe, come on breathe with me, inhale." He calmly instructed her, imitating a deep inhale which she tried to reciprocate. "Good, you're doing amazing dear, now exhale." He repeated his guiding actions, now concerning the exhale process.

The tears, frankly, never took a decent break from unstoppably spilling, covering whole of the surface of her already extremely weary face, while she truly did put all her soul and effort into regaining a sense of normal breathing before she went on to say what she had to say, what her heart commanded her to say.

"I love him Freddie." She kicked off, not bothering to wait for her soulmate of a best friend to go first. "I made a mistake, but I love him." She justified while keeping a longlasting stare on the couch below. Freddie deeply sighed before he managed a heartwaming, though apologetic half smile.

"A terrible mistake." He corrected her and approached her on the couch, forcing her eyes to face him by placing his thumbs on her chin and lifting her head. "Don't be embarrassed. It's me you're talking to, I need you to be looking at me." He caressed her cheek and she closed her eyes shut, feeling the warmth of his touch provide her with nothing but safety, love.

And forgiveness.

"I'm willing to fix it. He just needs to let me in that's all I'm asking for." She wiped her tears and sniffed once, doing her best to retain her calmer than before posture and state. Freddie nodded in understanding, being perfectly aware this might be the ideal turn of events, but it's not likely to actually end up this way.

"I know lovie. But you need to be prepared for what's to come. Of course you need to talk it out, but he won't let go of his anger or disbelief that easily. You know him, you know how we works things out, we all do." Freddie lovingly warned his best friend, stroking her long hair that reached down below her breasts. She then nodded tilting her head to look down at the couch again.

"I've no idea how it happened." She confessed, instantly letting the beautiful man beside her know she was about to spill some tea on the incident which she avoided to do before, even to him. "I mean sure Rog and I, we've always been close, we've shared beds, hell we've even shared a single tent that weekend we got away to try camping with John and Ver. It'd NEVER crossed our minds before Freddie I swear to fucking God I-"

"-darling you don't have to defend yourself to me, I believe you. I know you never planned for this to happen, I know that you love Brian and that you never intended to hurt him, I was there when you met him. I saw the whole thing shaping up, flourishing. I was the one to tell you to look out for him, remember?" He egged her on and she tentatively nodded, still switching her look from down at the couch over at Freddie.

"None of us actually believe you and Rog did this on purpose. Not even Brian. But he's hurt dear. He feels betrayed. You need to bear with him on this, give him space and time for his fucked up thoughts to evolve into solid answers he'll be able to grant both you AND himself. Have you tried putting youself in his shoes? Would you just like that forgive everyone and carry on with your life while feeling a part you thought was yours is poof, stolen?"

She felt warm, fresh tears flooding her vision all over again.

Freddie was never wrong.

I have become, comfortably numb

"WHERE IS HE?" She screamed, dashing by nurses all the while she was also bumping into some, pushing them aside a few meters ahead.

"We have to keep calm don't you get it? We talked about this at home." John reminded her, apologising to people she almost shoved to the ground on her behalf as he tried to keep up with her pace.

"I AM CALM JOHN." She spat and John sighed, struggling to get her to stop making a mess out of an entire clinic.

"Right." He mostly said to himself sarcastically, and she stopped dead in her tracks, twirling her whole body around, clearly ready to quarrel with him on such a pointless issue.

"WHAT did you just say?" She growled at his defenseless face right when a doctor thrown from the heavens walked past them and John thankfully got to call him so they wouldn't have to sort it out right now.

"UH DOCTOR!" He yelled, capturing his attention. The doc tilted his head over to their direction and threw them a smile, nodding once.

"May I help you?" He offered and before she butted in in such mad state, John, appearing way calmer, took over.

"Would be splendid, uh, our friend's name's Brian May uh, we got a call a few minutes ago that he's here." John explained, his hands and fingers intertwined in nervousness and anxiety. The doctor nodded and began walking the other way.

"Oh yes, the lad who overdosed right?"

The two young adults stood still, unable to take any step further.

"O-overd-dosed?" She stammered, instantly bringing her palms up to cover her nose and mouth in utter shock before she lost all state of consciousness and control of her body, only to end up collapsing in John's arms.

Okay, just a little pinprick, there'll be no more

But you may feel a little sick

Why did she recall all this, she'd absolutely no clue.

Thing was, she did feel sick. She's felt so for a long time. Even if she loved Roger dearly, even if she never pictured herself wanting to have him so bad, not bothering to give a flying fuck about the consequences, about the chaos that's to break out, all because of hers and Roger's naivety and irresponsibility.

And hormones.

"He's a tosser." Roger said, downing another vodka shot, his 10th or 11th so far. His back hit the couch's below part and he closed his eyes while his head looked up at the ceiling, trying not to let the alcohol affect his system way too much so he can keep on his drinking marathon. She drunkenly chuckled and supported the side of her head onto her palm, biting her lips while nodding.

"He is. But he's hot." She dreamily moaned, allowing her thoughts to daydream about her boyfriend who was currently out grabbing beers with one of his uni mates they hadn't caught up in forever. Roger shrugged and carefully tilted his head and body over to playfully nudge at her, so as not to throw up everywhere on the couch and carpet.

"Your argument is invalid miss." He brought his lips together and she lifted an eyebrow, obvsiously waiting for him to finish his thought process. "I'm hot too does that make me a toss?"

"You prick." She giggled, fixing some of his wild hair flowing on every direction. "You're 80% hot, he's 1000%." She let out in the open, testing the waters. Once she noticed Roger's mood changing she burst out laughing while he grabbed her by the waist and lifted both of them up before he cautiously dropped her on the couch and began aggressively tickling her, earning himself deafening hysterics and squeaks out of her.

"Say that again, what am I?" He repeated struggling to keep himself from bursting into hysterical giggling as well, while she literally punched solid air below him, trying to break free from his endless tickling session.

"YOU'RE A 10 OUTTA 10 ROG GET OFF ME." She shrieked while in stitches, literally doublefolded because of laughing so hard. Roger let go of her and they both wiped the tears off their faces, a few more giggles escaping them before they both completely calmed down and sighed, keeping silent for a few minutes.

"I've wanted you, you know. For a while." He suddenly broke the silence and her head automatically turned to face him on its own accord, eyes going full on wide.

"You're fucking with me." She turned the statement down, reckoning it's just a prank that he could pull on her that he made up just now. Roger chuckled never daring to look at her and moved his head negatively right and left, toying with his hands.

"I'm serious. I've been trying to wrap my head around you being so damn perfect. In and out. I'd never pull you anyway, Bri's a lucky ass bitch." He admitted still playing with his hands, when he randomly whistled to shake off the uncomfortable atmosphere when she didn't come up with an answer. "Now THAT was awkward, cheers." He added, downing his 12th shot for the night.

"Wait so-" she trailed, repositioning herself on the couch. "Lemme see if I got it right you're still there? Yknow like into me? In some way?" She wondered, still appearing unable to actually put her head into what she heard a few minutes prior, still 90% sure it's a prank of some sort. Roger sighed getting up from the couch, heading over to his bag he brought straight from the rehearsal the boys had a few hours earlier. He literally dove his hand into it and got a handful of papers out, giving them away to her as he slumped back on the couch. She connected her eyebrows and turned her attention back to Rog. "What are those?" She asked full of uncertainty, tentatively flipping through them.

"Your answer." He simply replied, biting his upper lip in nervousness. "He'll beat me the hell up what am I even doing." He said more or less to himself while she went through all the papers full of lyrics before he literally grabbed hold of them and stole them all from her hands leaving her completely dumbfounded.

"I never wanted you to find out. My bad. But since I blurted two or three things out like the asshole I am, you need to know it was never in my plans for you to know. And you're way too good for us both." He attempted to explain, her persistent silence making him question whether or not it was actually a good idea to initiate further conversation concerning this topic. Roger huffily sighed, lifting himself from the couch to snatch his things and leave hers and Brian's place but right at that moment she stormed up as well.

"NO Rog, hey." She gripped his arm, yanking him for both of them to take a seat back on the couch. "I'm sorry I just- I got overwhelmed yknow, as in shocked." She clarified, grabbing his shotglass and refilling it, handing it over to him. Roger was hesitant with his next moves or words, his drunken state worsening by the split second he downed the shot as he already had done so with a bunch more of them than he should have.

"You don't seem that shocked." He pointed out and she did down one too, hissing afterwards.

"There's no female you don't like Rog." She sat straighter on the couch then laid her head on his chest, facing the ceiling. Roger decided not to down another shot then helped her head up and away from his chest, their faces now inches away. A single huff. His blue eyes somehow turned both darker and more vulnerable all at once, traveling all around her face from her eyes down to her parted lips. They both gulped and stared at each other a lasting while.

"It's not the same with you." His tone dropped an impossible amount and his voice cracked. No matter how hard he tried, God knew how much he did, he could not help himself and his eyes from returning down to her lips. He'd gotten an expert to that, he could not avert it anymore. She on the other hand, despite seeming taken aback, never dared take a step back or interrupt this moment between the two of them.

In fact, all she cared about was receiving answers. More of them.

"What's with me?" She heard herself murmuring and she was certain she never commanded her brain to do so, it took the initiative by itself. Roger swallowed, knowing what he was about to do wasn't exactly appropriate, especially among friends. It probably, was first in the 'friendship don'ts' list and he straight up was commited to offend against it without looking back.

He was determined to show her exactly what it was he meant.

"Why are you letting me do this?" He whispered, licking his lips as she knowingly raised an eyebrow, half smirking.

"Do what?"

Spoiler alert; she was exactly aware of what he was about to do next. Point was

She knew exactly what she had to do herself. Which the right thing was. She had to stop him.

Why wasn't she?

Why did his kiss feel so good? No matter how wrong it was?

Can you stand up? I do believe it's working good

That'll keep you going for the show, come on it's time to go

Keys on the lock.

She thought she heard keys on the lock downstairs, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was precisely cause guess what?

There's no way Brian was at home yet. It couldn't be him.

See, their relationship and interactions after the decision to call it a day was made were not the ideal. They -meaning mainly Brian- kept all back and forth communication to a preferably minimal extent and why's that, one could ask.

Because they couldn't have it any other way.

How can you have it any differently when the second you try to reapproach the person you hurt and kind of fix things, show them you're eager and honestly contemplating to sit both your asses down and hash things out, they waste no time warding you off?

Little did she know, he'd act the very same way again. Or at least give it a go. But he wouldn't get his way this time.

She hurriedly shut her suitcase and zipped it up, feeling an extreme sense of panic overtake her while she gathered the last few spread clothes lying on the floor, pairs of underwear from her nightstand that's no longer her side of the bed cause surprise surprise

She'd never sleep on that bed ever again.

She wasn't allowed to.

"Please don't be him please don't be him God please." She kept whispering to herself all this time, as she clearly overheard more and more movement coming from downstairs.

Sadly for her, it was him. Sadly for them both, this was only the beginning of the show.

And it had to go on.

Chapter Text

Why was going back home still so incredibly painful?

Like does it ever fade? Or get better? Will it ever go away for good?

Brian could not for the life of him depict what was fucking with his brain, insisting he feels like trash, like a lost cause. Like his existence did no longer matter, as if there was absolutely zero sense to it. After all, he wasn't the one to wake up one day and go ruin everything.

On the other hand, why did he give so many shits really? You get in a relationship with someone, you love them, you like spending time with them and then it's over and that's fine, that's normal. All good things come to an end and it doesn't really make much of a difference whether that happens because of cheating, because of not sharing interests anymore or because simply life happened. You accept it, hold onto all positive moments and get over it. That's self-growth.

It was at moments like this Brian really wished he hadn't cancelled his therapy appointment. But some days just weren't it and he couldn't pretend they were, he was so exhausted of pretending, making up for bad days, trying his hardest to convince himself there shouldn't be bad days at all and he'd somehow have to change them into good ones. No more of this.

So he went straight back home after rehearsal.

The plan was to get his mind together after a tiring day, take a shower and pour himself a cup of steaming hot tea. Initially, Freddie was persistenly asking him to hang out so that was the original plan but he just wasn't feeling it so he passed. Luckily all of his friends were extremely supportive and understanding during this tough period so they weren't pushing his limits concerning this type of stuff. If Brian kindly asked to be left alone there was no further discussion.

What he missed was that he wasn't to be left alone tonight.

Entering the house, he instantly acknowledged something was off and that things weren't as he left them early in the morning before he took off to work. The lights for example; they were turned on whereas he was 100% certain he did turn them off. The frames on the staircase wall were slightly shifted and sort of inclining to the left and in the air was hovering a specific smell, as in a perfume?

For a minute there Brian considered turning back and abandoning the house in wild case there was a thief having indeed broken in earlier but hadn't yet caught wind of him getting home. There was something that wasn't on his radar though.

Deciding it was much better to investigate, take a more expanded look he pulled his keys out of his pocket then rushed to hang them inside the key case and that was when reality hit his face like a ton of bricks.

Her keys were hung as well.

"What the-" He blurted out, closing the key case shut before he pulled himself out of his coat and placed it on the hanger right after.

Brian currently wasn't in a place to figure out whether or not he was okay with her being in this house, doing whatever chores she was doing which probably were picking the last of her things up, checking she got any frames, mugs, plates all wrapped up and stuff. Truth was he should at least be partly okay considering it's been a good 3 or 4 weeks since they parted ways. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and tried to keep his temper down.

It was about time he got all exposed to what he feared the most those 2 or 3 weeks.

Her.

Cause to be fair, it wasn't purely her he saw when he looked at her face, it wasn't the girl he fell for, tried to manipulate into loving him, spent the most wonderful of his days and nights with. All he saw was way darker, deeper than that.

He saw betrayal. A stranger.

And the unfamiliarity of it all was so much worse. It hurt more than he expected it would, more than words could explain. And Brian wasn't precisely a man of words, but a man of actions.

Off to face his fear he goes.

Not once had climbing the stairs felt as such hard work. It felt endless and challenging, as if he was throwing himself to the wolves. And he did in a way if the wolves stood for the demons his mind constantly battled with.

Reaching the floor his room was in, Brian took a moment to himself and stood still, thickly gulped once or twice and gave himself a short pep talk, which in any other case would have left him split in two in laughter.

There's been a while since he last laughed his ass off, since his soul felt truly content and full.

Brian knew at this point that instead of doing the obvious, as in entering his room and spilling a word or two to his ex girlfriend, he did anything but this. He procrastinated and procrastinated, avoiding going for such a simple act of humanity such us saying good evening to another person with whom by the way, you shared lives for a minute there. There wasn't anything more humane, more compassionate.

Guess it was easier said than done.

His weak ass hesitated more by each passing minute and in all honesty it made him see red given the fact that most of the time, he was the one to urge people to carry their business out and not drag their feet.

Especially when they were so long and quick to perform such things.

His sweaty palms found his as sweaty face and managing a somewhat steady pace he stood before the wooden door of his bedroom, a huge wave of memories making his head throb to immense amounts. This was their bedroom once.

It wasn't easy to recall how to it feels to exist in utter loneliness. To carry the burden by yourself.

It's always nice when you share.

There she was, looking through the drawers under the mirror table, potentially searching for stranded pieces of makeup, jewellery and accessories. How did Brian know?

She used to store them there. Those few objects that made her look impossibly more gorgeous and breathtaking.

He always made sure he let her know that she didn't need any of these to look beautiful and she giggled in sarcasm because next time she ran out of them, she'd drag him along to makeup stores to purchase more and more of them.

What a stubborn woman she was.

To hell with it, it was time for him to get this over with.

"Amy."

The jewellery instantly fell of her hand in a manner neither her, nor Brian could accurately portray. Was it panic? Was it shock? Was it dread? Was it all of them combined? Regardless of any description of the feeling, it should've been one of those previously mentioned.

His inpact on her was so powerful, he made her feel all of these simultaneously anyway so it didn't actually carry any weight.

Brian felt his mouth growing drier by the second and heavily swallowed, dashing by her side to help her pick up the necklaces and earrings that dropped off her grip. Kneeling down beside her he began collecting as many as he could and Amy, still standing towering him out of genuine shock, got on her knees shortly after as well.

"N-no it's- it's fine I can g-get them myself." She stammered, stuffing her hands with jewellery as well.

They both worked in earsplitting silence, not even bothering to look at each other's faces. Brian gently placed her stuff on the bed whereas Amy to her side and once they were done with she got up and gathered them all before laying them in a case inside her bag.

Truth was, so far neither of them had actually registered the fact that she was packing all her stuff to once and for all leave his place instead of simply packing to go on a trip for instance.

Routine was a pain in the ass to cut off.

Rumor has it endings of relationships at times,if not most of them, represent an actual death one has to mourn. The loss of an old life, an old normality. It almost feels as if t ihey're reborn, and there's no easiness in trying to build an existence from scratch, the adaption's not a walk in the park for everyone.

All that being said, both of them frankly went through a rough patch while plainly standing there, facing each other, trying to process the fact they weren't a couple anymore. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend existing in the same bedroom, they weren't going to take a shower and hit the pillow, talk about their day, probs watch a movie and wake up together to have coffee and tea together first thing next morning.

Amy awkwardly toyed with her fingers while intensely staring at them and Brian cleared his throat as uncomfortably, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Breaking the silence not once had it been such a nerve wracking issue for any of them.

"Did you get-"

"I came to-"

Silence again.

They've always liked being ride or die, yknow, either all up or all down. All or nothing.

Funny how they usually wouldn't shut up, now any words hardly come out.

Amy nervously chuckled just so and Brian scratched the back of his neck, indicating how tense he felt.

"Please." He urged her to talk and it was now Amy's turn to clear her throat.

"I came to pack, uh, some last things yknow, makeup, brushes and all. I got all my clothes ready over the weekend." She explained, biting her lower lip. "Hope I won't have to bother you anymore."

Brian scoffed. "You know you're not bothering me." He made clear and Amy brushed her arm in uneasiness, breaking a small, regretful smile.

"You haven't run into me all this time that's why."

A condition she herself set.

"You won't have to see me." She muttered, sniffing then rubbing off some more shedding, warm tears.

"Good." Brian expressionlessly nodded, wiping some freshly cleaned glasses to place them in the upper cupboard.

"I'll be here tomorrow." She announced and Brian agreed, shutting the cupboard.

"You know when I'm off. Have a good week."

"You chose this." He reminded her and she proceeded to snap the suitcase shut, settling on that all the essentials were now in it.

"You agreed. In a flash." She opposed as she zipped it and Brian sighed, putting his hands on his sides.

"I was hurting. You'd do the same." He insisted and Amy remained silent as she lowered the suitcase down on the floor, knowing deep down he was right and that whatever she took the risk of saying would most likely turn against her. So she hushed, making terms with the fact those were their last peaceful chats and they'd better stay that way. Peaceful. For their own sake.

"Yeah, probably." She confirmed and grabbed the suitcase with her left hand while repositioning the bag on her right shoulder. Brian rushed where she stood right away and helped the suitcase off her hand.

"Here, let me have this." He offered and Amy cracked a tentative smile, nodding.

"Thanks."

The walk down the stairs could easily identify as "the walk of shame" alternatively. Brian carefully carrying his ex's suitcase while she still put every ounce of effort into accepting and coping with this one being the very last time she steps foot in this home that's been her shelter for more than 2 years by now. In a way, strangely enough, that was both a blessing and a curse. Blessing because of having learnt a handful of lessons while in a healthy and loving relationship that are to accompany you along the rest of the way.

Curse, obviously, in the sense of losing a part of you, losing a person that meant the world.

Home is a person, they say.

He was hers. Both metaphorically and literally.

She wished she could tell him. Make him feel what she was feeling.

How pretty he was. How good he smelled. How familiar.

He even smelled like home.

"How come you're home so early?"

Instead, that was all she could blurt out. Pathetic, wasn't it?

Brian situated the suitcase right next to the dining table and sighed a short breath, placing his hands on his sides. "You on a rush?" He asked and Amy lifted an eyebrow in apparent curiosity.

"Uh, no? Why?" She wondered and crossed her arms on her chest, obeying Brian's sign to follow him.

"I was thinking we could maybe yknow, grab some tea, if you're okay with it." He proposed and quite frankly, caught Amy off guard big time, astonishment written on every proportion of her face.

Now that was an unexpected turn of events, given the fact that last time they stood in the same room all they could do was violently scream to each other, beat each other up till they couldn't have it no more, till they couldn't take it.

It all went down to her knowing too damn well this was the last of everything. The last time she rested eyes on his wild curls, the last time she could breathe in the smell of wood, of this house's warmth, the last tea she had with him. Therefore, it didn't take her much longer to make up her mind.

"Sure."

Now in any other context, Brian and Amy would boil then pour themselves some tea all the while they set the table up for board games marathon and rot their brains out pulling an all nighter playing and playing till the sun came up. It was almost out of instinct, out of reflex getting him to bring a bunch of them downstairs and she forced herself to suppress it as if her life depended it on it.

He's not the Brian you knew he's not the Brian you knew he's not the Brian you-

"I canceled therapy." He began, closely watching his step as to not drop the tea cups and stain the entire surface of the carpet. "I don't know I just wasn't in the mood to attend today." He added and cautiously positioned the cups on the table while Amy made room for him to join her on the couch.

"Thank you." She thanked them for the tea and waited for him to lower himself down. "That's okay, I mean therapy's only working if you want it to work. Like if you don't wanna go that's fine."

"It's not that I don't want it to work, it's just there's days when it honestly feels too draining." He explained, sipping some of the tea he poured them both. "Freddie wanted to drop by, but I turned him down too."

"Freddie, a modern Samaritan." She joked and Brian nodded, slightly smiling. The silence that came with the joke could only lead to one thing. And they both knew.

"I'm sorry."

The two apologetic words flowed like water. And felt balsamic, curing. They resembled the exhausted, sweaty marathon runner who hadn't drunk water in a while and they finally did feel it on their tongue, felt it heal their insides.

So many things unsaid that screamed, ached to be told, heard, taken into consideration. That's what those last weeks really were all about.

Brian struggled to master his energy into immediately accepting the apology. His mind yelled at him to knock her out, forcing all of what it was he specifically wanted to hear out of her. So all he was left with was a plain why.

"Why?"

As in why did you do this to us? Why did you treat us this way? What did he have that I didn't? Why would you put us down like that?

"Why what? Why am I sorry?" She took a step back on the couch. Brian's eyes were thoroughly expressionless and as much as he wanted to, his body wouldn't act on his own accord, leaving him stand there in apathy, the only feeling he sensed being numbness.

"Why did you do it." He sternly corrected her, his questioning tone sounding more like affirmation rather than a question. "Yknow, why did you fuck my best friend."

Ouch.

Truth might be precious, but that doesn't mean it's always pleasant to know, to hear, to experience.

What stroke her the most is that he literally went through all of this in a state of never ending nirvana whereas all she wanted to do was throw up alongside the entire house, kick this feeling of disgust out of her system. How the fuck did he do it?

"Because I was hammered and had no idea what was going on." She calmly repeated both to herself and him for the millionth time. "I've already told you."

Brian scoffed and looked the other way. "Do you by any chance can guess how many countless times I get wrecked during tour?" His tone turning strict and serious. "Hm? Do you? Got any idea how many women we meet along the way throughout being hammered?" He raised his voice more and more, Amy quickly realising he's beginning to go off the deep end, losing all bits of control.

"Brian calm down. I didn't-"

"Would it work for you If I came back and told you I screwed them all, one by one, because I was fucking WASTED?" His aggravated anger starting to increase, making him scoot up from the couch. Amy's trembling palm found her forehead and she as shakingly sighed, struggling to prevent the tears from making an entrance.

All she did was ball her eyes out lately. She was tired.

"NO IT FUCKING WOULDN'T." She squealed back in tears, shooting up from her seat as well. "BUT I CAN'T TAKE WHAT HAPPENED BACK, NOR I CAN ERASE IT. I FUCKED UP, I KNOW BUT I CAN'T FUCKING TAKE IT BACK AND I'M SORRY." She sobbed among the words, taking her jacket off.

"OH YOU'RE SORRY? PARDON ME THEN, APOLOGY ACCEPTED. LET'S GO RUN IN FIELDS AND COLLECT FLOWERS NAKED SHALL WE?" He sarcastically suggested and Amy brought her arms up in surrender.

"You're unbelievable. Do you got ANY clue of how I'm holding up lately Brian? Huh? Do you even CARE?"

They both were fully aware their screams echoed around the entire neighbourhood by this point but they didn't give a crap. All they worried about was to humiliate each other, put dirt on their name. Not actually conceiving that the winner doesn't take it all.

Cause there's no winner in the first place.

"I SHOULDN'T CARE. CAUSE FROM WHAT I REMEMBER I WASN'T THE ONE TO GO RUIN EVERYTHING."

That was what did it for Amy. The guilt that wouldn't let her get not even one hour of decent sleep, the severe fatigue she'd been experiencing all these days, the lack of appetite, the weight loss, the feeling of constantly being cold, not yearning to meet up with friends, family, go out.

Live.

She's had it up to here by now. And constantly being reminded how, when and what she did to screw her life up was the cherry on top. She had to be off right now, otherwise she'd probably either say things she didn't want to or collapse again, and she couldn't have that. Not now, not ever again. All she did was apologise and give too many fucks about making sure people knew that she was sorry and that she truly meant it whenever she went off to say it. She didn't have to prove herself to anyone but her own self.

Enough was enough.

"That's it." Her tone dropped and her expression turned completely blank while she gathered all her coat and bag from the couch. "It's the last time I'm defending or explaining my worth. Whether you want or don't want anything to do with me that's up to you, the ball's on your court. I'm tired of facing the consequences okay? I've suffered enough." She headed to where her suitcase was located and grabbed the crook as Brian stared at the ceiling, his palms resting on his sides. "Oh, and here's a gift I got you before all this happened."

That instantly drew his attention and his head turned to her side to find her digging inside her bag until she grabbed hold of what she was looking for. She handed him the small box and sighed, wiping some remaining tears.

"Take care."

~

A month later.

"Anywhere the wind blows..."

"That's where I hit it?" Roger asked and Freddie nodded, all four of them thoroughly observing Roger striking the enormous imaginary drum they were planning to place behind his drumset in order for him to smash with an as big drum stick every time Freddie's bohemian song ended during live shows.

Freddie approved of the movement and the sound it made and jumped in excitement once, grinning widely. "Ah perfect darlings! It all sounded just right!" He gave props to all three of them and they simultaneously put their instruments aside to go grab some water and take a break before getting to rehearsal again.

Now the rehearsals were a bit tricky for Brian's mindset, even though for the most part he'd settled both mentally and physically and would appear to be a lot more conciliatory and friendly towards the drummer and the whole situation between them. Truth was, Roger was dying to make amends with his ex best friend and Brian respected that, despite struggling to see things from the perspective he did before all this took place. Nevertheless, being on good terms with Roger was beneficial for his brain and heart because to some extent it reminded him of the good old days and it brought a sense of normality, of familiarity.

There's no greater feeling.

"Hey Bri did you read the lyrics I gave you the other day?" Roger asked, getting him out of a haze. Brian closed the water bottle and forced himself back to reality. He nodded and scratched the back of his neck, trying to remember.

"Uh I'm pretty sure I did. Weren't they the ones you wrote for a car or something?" He asked and Roger fiercely nodded, obviously growing too excited.

"Yep! What did you think?"

Brian raised an eyebrow and put his hands on his sides, chuckling. "Was there anything I had to think?" He confusedly wondered and Roger's expression turned serious.

"What do you mean?"

Brian scoffed and shook his head. "Rog, come to your senses. We've more important things to talk about."

Roger frowned and proceeded to stop Brian from walking away by following him back to the studio couch. "Yeah? Such as?"

Brian sighed lowering himself down, snatching his lyric notebook from the table beside the couch. "Such as which songs are making it to the album. We've only picked 5 so far."

Roger drew back insulted and sank on the sofa near Brian. "Yeah exactly. I was thinking I'm in love with my car reaches the album."

Brian almost choked on his saliva with this and winced, eyes going wide while looking at the drummer. "No way." He only thought of saying and Roger sighed in annoyance.

"Why's everyone so down on it? I don't get it what's not to like?" He complained and Brian rolled his eyes, studying some of the tunes he wanted to try out on his guitar in a minute.

"I don't know, maybe the fact that it's about a man who's in love with a car?" He implied in a sarcastic voice and Roger sulked, crossing his arms in his chest.

"Oh okay so you call me sweet like I'm some kind of cheese is a better option yeah my apologies." He as sarcastically snapped.

"Roger plea-"

"LADIES." Freddie's voice interrupted their small conflict and both the drummer and the guitarist snapped their heads up to look the singer's way, knowing there's an announcement coming as he always called them ladies whenever there was news. "Can I have your precious attention please?"

John took his headphones off and got the bass down of his lap, turning his attention on his friend.

"John booked us a show in Hammersmith on Christmas Eve!" Freddie finally announced and they all broke in cheers and laughter, rushing to give a group hug at the middle of the rehearsal studio. Breaking off the hug, John stumbled on something that apparently one of them dropped without realising. Bending down to get a grip of it, he figured it was a guitar pick, a new one if anything and quickly did the math, coming to the conclusion that it definitely wasn't his.

Thus, that could only mean one thing.

Throwing a closer look, he came to realise that there was a heart shaped on one side of it, and a sentence written on the other, with golden letters.

"Aye Bri." He called the guitarist over. "I think you dropped this." He let his friend know, passing him the pick.

They both smiled and John gave Brian a knowing look, patting him on the shoulder.

Three simple, yet extremely meaningful words.

'I love you.'

~

December 23rd, 1975.

The sound of the phone persistently ringing abruptly woke Amy up today, not giving her the necessary amount of time to process what place, time, year, day it was she was waking up to. Dare she say preferably so, as in any other case she'd sleep in and wouldn't enjoy the rest of her day now that it's Christmas vacay and she has plenty of time to do a thing or two.

Getting out of bed she put on her nightgown and the warmest pair of slippers and hurried to the kitchen to make coffee, all the while she prepared her breakfast.

The weather outside her kitchen window seemed quite nice today, visibly sunnier than the previous days. Coffee mug in her hands warming them, she headed to her living room to open the shutters for the sunlight to peer through her home and brighten it, only to notice a folded paper underneath the door crack.

Curious as she was, Amy placed the mug on the living room table and approached her door, bending over to get hold of the paper and unfold it, immediately sensing her heart rate quickening and her palms forcefully sweating when she recognised the handwriting of the one who wrote it.

Hi.

I realised I never thanked you for your gift. I loved it. Thank you.

If you'd like to see it perform in its full glory, we're having a show tomorrow at the Odeon in Hammersmith at 8 o'clock. Hope we'll meet you there. Your gift and I.

Brian.

Life was nice.