15. Someone Has Drained the Colour From My Wings.
F.M
New York, USA
25th, September
I wanted to throw the tantrum of all tantrums.
I was quite prepared to go down in rock'n'roll history as the person who has the biggest fucking meltdown ever witnessed. I was all fired up and ready to just go for it, but I physically couldn't, which only served to piss me off even more.
"Alright drink this," Phoebe quickly handed me a cup of honey and lemon infused water, "The kettle is on again, you're going to have to keep steaming your throat."
Olbas oil had found a way to fucking dominate all my senses, and I was fairly certain that I would never, ever rid myself of the scent. I winced as I tentatively sipped the scalding liquid, praying it would soothe my tender throat. If there was ever a time I needed my voice, it was now.
I finally split from Bill Reid last night, but it wasn't exactly a clean break. There was a screaming match, and apparently I fucking lost because here I was with only a shred of my voice left. No voice, on the very day Queen were set to have a crucial performance. I was furious with myself.
I wasn't all that upset about ending things with Bill (which is obvious I'm sure because I talk about him so much), in fact, I was relieved that I didn't have to worry about him anymore. We had been rocky for months on account of his possessiveness, but things had reached a tipping point last night when I just couldn't bear him for a second longer. He was just smothering me with his jealousy, and it just wasn't... right. We weren't right for each other, and there was no point forcing it for the sake of me having company on tour and in New York.
Now, I'm the first to admit that I am not an ideal partner. My silly infatuation with Hayes Griffith is a prime example of my wandering eye. Still, Bill was like a bloody ogre when angry, and nothing I did ever warranted the monstrous way in which he treated me at times.
He was so fucking intense the daft tart, which is exactly why I think I was still entertaining my stupid little crush on Hayes: because he was the exact opposite. He didn't give a two shits about me, and he was pretty. What more could I ask for to distract me? It was a little bit of fun, escapism if you will. I never expected Hayes to ever return the attraction, and it's much easier to fancy the unobtainable ones. If you know you can never have them, well they can't really hurt you can they? It's safe and somewhat entertaining. Although, it's important to note that it's only easier until you end up actually liking them. Which I fear is happening to me.
One day I just enjoyed the sight of Hayes like a niece piece of art, and now? Now I actually... oh god I don't want to even bloody think it, but I genuinely miss him. And it hasn't even been a full fucking week since I had seen him last. How sad is that?
I tried phoning Hayes yesterday when we landed in New York, but I got no answer. Which is fine, but he hasn't called back today. I had a gut instinct that our little misunderstanding had sent him running for the hills. If that's all it takes to send him packing, I really do need to wise up and let the infatuation go. I'm free from Bill now, I don't need the Hayes outlet anymore.
Mhm, that all sounded quite reasonable.
"Freddie!" Roger slipped in the door. He choked a little, looking like he may pass out from all the fumes. "How are you feeling now mate?"
I cut him my most apologetic expression which said it all. Roger sighed and slumped down beside me. He then quickly removed his sunglasses as they instantly steamed up.
"Do we need to play the backing track? I hate it just as much as you Fred, but if you can't do it-" I must have shot him a piercing glare because he backtracked, "Not that you can't do it, but it might be safer to let the track play."
I know most acts on Saturday Night Live tended to lip sync, but I was feeling fairly stubborn about singing live despite of everything.
I merely shook my head at the drummer. Roger cracked a smile in response, "Knew that would be your answer. I'd be the same in your shoes."
I arched my brows.
"Yes, yes I know. I wouldn't be in your fucking shoes because I'm just the backing vocals."
I grinned at that and he returned the smile. "You know Freddie, I could just take over. Put me up front and centre. You can just do wardrobe or something."
Roger didn't know how to behave on stage when he wasn't behind a drum set, and he certainly couldn't lip sync. It really was a struggle not to open my mouth and tell him he's hidden in the back for a reason, with love of course. Based on how Roger suddenly frowned, I could tell we had finally reached the point of telepathy in our relationship.
"Alright Freddie," Phoebe snatched the empty cup from my hand, "Get over the sink." He then threw me a towel.
"At least buy him dinner first." Roger deadpanned before he slapped me on the back, "We need to rehearse soon, you can just talk through it if you want."
I nodded curtly before I slunk over to the sink, draped the towel over my head, and proceeded to smother myself with steam for the next couple of hours.
Crazy Little Thing Called Love went deceptively well at the start. It was a song that had no frills and flounces vocal wise. I played the simple three chord guitar rhythm, feeling pretty good about the whole thing. That was until my voice cracked in an awful way singing the title after Roger sang 'Ready Freddie!?' Clearly, I wasn't ready, because my voice wavered in a way that made me look like a bloody amateur.
And once the seal on my voice broke, it kept on breaking for the next few lines. I tried to adapt, and lowered my tone to produce something that sounded Elvis-esque. Which did the trick for a while, until I added some random vocals during the outro instrumental.
"Go for it." I sang into the mic, oh good lord. "Go!" Even worse. That note hit so wrong that I had to toss a laugh away to the side. "Crazy!"
The second the cameras cut and we got away, Phoebe was there instantly with another hot drink. "That was fine Freddie! You sounded good!" I'm going to have recurring nightmares about honey and lemon for the next few years.
I shook my head furiously. This may very well be our last live performance in the US, and I am fucking it up. All they'll remember me for is the shitty performance, moustache, and the banned bloody tunes from our latest flop album.
"That was brilliant." John exclaimed, "Well done Freddie."
Why do people think giving compliments as though you are a child, is ever flattering? I forced a grateful smile John's way, but dropped it the second he turned away.
It felt like no time at all before the boys and I were bundled up and pushed on stage again. I threw a jacket on over my new tank top and I was fit to go again. My voice wasn't.
I glanced over at John who was bopping away to the baseline of Under Pressure. Hopefully the camera will love him and I can get away with not being able to hold the right notes. With every misstep my anger grew, as well as my disappointment. Thank fuck for Roger backing me up, he was salvaging this whole thing.
Under Pressure did not go half as well as Crazy Little Thing, and I had to adapt a lot of notes to avoid any voice cracks. The note changes didn't exactly suit, well, in my mind they didn't. I don't know if I was being my own harsh critic, or whether it genuinely sounded awful. The audience cheered of course, but they bloody have to do that.
When it finally all ended, and I stalked back through into my dressing room, there may have been an item or two kicked over in my bursts of fury. If my voice was simply gone because of strain, or illness, I could have lived with that. But the fact my own personal life had fucked things up for not just me, but Queen, irritated me to no end. It could have been avoided.
A small kernel of hope spluttered in my chest once I remembered what city I was in. Maybe I can see him. For some reason, what little voice I had left, I wanted to waste it on speaking to Hayes.
He just never picked up.
The Arse-end of Nowhere, England.
November, 5th.
"How do you enjoy living somewhere so isolated?"
"It's not isolated." Roger huffed.
"It's smack bam in the middle of nowhere, sheep shagger."
"Far better than being smack bam in the middle of Kensington. You're going to be driven mad with journalists and fans, and noise in that new manor." Roger quipped back, "City fucker."
After the disastrous SNL performance, I was grateful that the Asian leg of the tour went off without too many hitches. The adrenaline of the tour had drained from me already, leaving me in a little slump. The highs of performing are quite difficult to replicate in ordinary life, and you can't help but feel a little depressed once home again. Especially now that I know we are taking a little break from recording. The exact terms of that break were being talked out at Roger's home in Surrey, which was where we were heading now.
I laughed, "Nothing interesting happens out here, it's dull. No life."
"The views are beautiful." Brian argued from the passenger seat, "And there's a whole abundance of life out here Freddie."
What did I just start?
Before I could receive a full on lecture about biodiversity in the British country side, Roger mercifully cut in. I don't care what anyone says, it's fucking dry out here in the middle of nowhere.
"What's that twit doing?" Roger asked incredulously.
I was just about to learn that all the drama happens out here in the country.
John and I both leant over the middle seat rest to get a glimpse at what our drummer was staring at. A figure just cleared a hedge, and was running in our direction. He had made it a few meters closer, when not one, not two, not even three, but about eight dogs jumped the hedge too and chased after the man. Roger slowed down but continued to crawl forward slowly in the car.
"What the fuck?" He muttered, "It's your twit."
"Who's?"
"You." Roger exclaimed, "It's Hayes bloody Griffith."
I mentally scolded my chest for twinging with excitement at the mere mention of his name. "He's not my anything, thank you very much!" I gasped dramatically in what I hoped sounded like believable horror.
"Let him in!" John instructed quickly, "He's being chased."
"The exercise will do him good." I yawned, feigning indifference, "Come on then Rog, let's get this show on the road."
Roger slipped out of the car, "Hayes!" He shouted, "Need a lift?"
"He's blind as a bloody bat, he won't know you." I made the mistake of scoffing.
"Bats aren't blind." Brian commented.
"Oh fuck off."
"It's me! Roger." I watched the drummer make a squeaking noise of surprise before he quickly dove back into the driver seat.
Hayes was suddenly at my door, he almost skidded past but grabbed a hold of the handle and flung the door open. He stared down at me with surprise, whilst I narrowed my eyes up at him. His face and clothes were dirty and tattered. A paddy cap was askew on his head, and his chest was heaving up and down.
"I'm not moving." I declared, and haughtily jutted my chin away.
"Freddie!" Everyone snapped as the dogs drew even closer.
I thought that would be that, but no, Hayes proceeded to clamber over me. His long limbs clumsily went everywhere, I even received and elbow to the stomach, until he was sitting between John and I. Brilliant. I glanced down at the live bird on his lap. I folded my arms and readied myself to turn around and give Hayes the silent treatment, since he's so fucking fond of it.
Wait... Bird?
"What the fuck is that!?" I hissed as we made a getaway.
The brown bird flapped it's wings, causing everyone but Hayes to screech in surprise and confusion. But... in a manly way obviously.
"A pheasant." Hayes replied calmly as he attempted to catch his breath. He stroked his slender fingers down its feathers as if this were normal.
Brian's head whipped around, "Why do you have her?"
"How do you know it's a her?" John frowned.
Brian prattled on about the plumage differences between a male and female pheasants, whilst Hayes merely just sat there, looking out the window blankly. He was squeezed into the middle seat, his knees practically up at his chest with the effort of trying to fit his lanky legs between the seats.
Curiosity and concern somehow stifled my anger towards Hayes. This whole thing was just insane, and I think it may be a cry for help. Maybe this manic episode is why he hasn't been chatting to me. So what, he could have at least told me to give him space.
"Hayes..." I sighed, "Why do you have a pheasant?"
"Helping her." He mumbled.
Okay...
A few moments of tense silence passed before anyone spoke again. Thankfully, Blondie got his priorities straight and piped up.
"Eh, Hayes, mate." Roger asked cautiously, "Can we let the pheasant out of the car before she... makes a mess?" He used a tone I had only ever heard him use with Felix, suggesting that he also noticed Hayes was potentially unstable right now.
"Mhm?" Hayes blinked as if he were in a trance, "Oh right yeah, just pull up here. Cheers."
This time I moved so that Hayes could get out. He strode towards the fence with a purpose. We all watched as he placed the bird on top of a gate which led out into a vast emerald field. Hayes made a shooing motion. When that didn't work, he gave her a gentle nudge, expecting her to fly off and be free.
That's not what happened.
The pheasant didn't fly off. No, it merely flopped to ground and flapped around clumsily. After a brief moment she rolled back onto her feet. Then she turned, ruffled her feathers, and stared blankly up at Hayes. From here, I could see his entire body just... twitch.
And then he lost it. Fully lost it.
The expletives that left Hayes mouth, would make a sailor blush. He was shouting all sorts. I will not even attempt to repeat it. I simply can't imagine where he heard some of the words that left his mouth. I was impressed and mildly horrified all at the same time. I also wondered who had corrupted Phoebe's Hayes.
"What the *beep* are you *beep* doing you *beep beep beeeeeeep*!"
"Oh heavens." John eyes widened.
Roger slowly started rolling his car window up, looking rather scandalised. Brian had covered his mouth with his hand. All I could do was stare in horror as Hayes threw his cap on the floor, still cursing and still shouting abuse at a pheasant.
"Spread your *beep* wings and *beep* *beep* beep* off! Are you *beep beep beep BEEP*!?"
"Is he uh," Roger cleared his throat, "is he okay?"
Everyone had turned their gaze to me, as if I was the parent of a child who was screaming bloody murder on a plane. Since when was I responsible for him? It's not like we're even fucking friends, the past month has bloody taught me that.
"Oh *beep* me! I *beep beep* hate *beep* everything!"
"I..." my eyes flicked back towards Hayes who was now tearing at his thick hair, "It doesn't look it."
"Maybe you should check on him."
"That doesn't seem safe." I murmured as I watched him with morbid fascination.
The pheasant seemed to have had enough of being verbally abused, which seemed fair, as she slowly wandered off. Hayes now had his face in his hands, and alternated between groaning with fury, and cursing.
"Freddie, I really think you should check on him."
"He seems fine to me-" I began before everyone in the car hissed 'Freddie!'
"Alright. Alright!" I snapped, "My god. I'm going." I took an extremely long time getting out of that car, because I did not want to take the place of that poor bird.
"New York?"
Hayes was now on his hunkers, his hands clasped behind his neck as inhaled deeply, but seemed unable to exhale. 'Are you alright?' Seemed to be a stupid question to ask right now.
"Hayes?" I cautiously placed my hand on his back.
He stood up immediately, and I quickly took a step back. I don't really know what I expected from him. Probably for him to lash out in some way. I witnessed him have a bloody breakdown. That's far too much vulnerability for that man to show in front of an audience. Oh lord he's going to take hostages, murder witnesses.
Out of all the possible scenarios I was expecting to transpire, nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
Hayes Griffith hugged me. He bloody hugged me. His fists were bunched into the fabric of my jacket, and his head had dropped to bury into my shoulder. Hayes' arms are actually around me. After my initial shock wore off, I carefully returned the gesture. Well this feels very good, which is probably dangerous considering it's Hayes.
"Are you lulling me into a false sense of security before you kill me?" I whispered as I cautiously patted his back.
Hayes let out a long drawn out sigh. Unfortunately, it wasn't an 'oh I'm so comfortable with you darling, this is fantastic and exactly what I have been missing my whole life' sigh. It was more of a 'why do you have to ruin things by speaking?' huff. Despite of this, he held onto me for another few seconds.
Hayes' cheeks were tinged with red when he pulled away, as if he realised what he had just done. I didn't think a blush would be something he allowed happen to his face. He quickly ran his hands down his jacket, they shook ever so slightly. He looked to be struggling to get a hold of himself once again.
"I- Jesus I'm- I'm so sorry-" he quickly brushed off my shoulder where some of the dirt from his cheek transferred, "Sorry- okay, I'll-" he forced his hands back down to his sides, "I'll stop touching you now."
As if Hayes cursing his shrivelled heart out wasn't enough of a shock to my system, now he was acting clumsily. Flustered. Night and bloody day to his usual behaviour. This must be the day version of Hayes Griffith when all I have seen so far is the bitter night.
"Are you finished," I waved my hand toward the field where the pheasant had vanished, "whatever that little performance was?"
Hayes seemed to deeply consider this for a moment before he nodded, "Yeah, I think so."
"Okay." I surveyed his unruly hair and dirt streaked face, "Do you want to be dropped back somewhere?"
Hayes shook his head.
Helpful. "Well then, do you want to come along with us and figure out what you're next move is?"
He nodded.
"Right." I murmured and gestured for him to return to the car, which he did willingly.
My eyes dropped down, noticing the tight breeches he wore. Look away Freddie. Look. Away. Okay, I'm going to stop looking at him, right... now! I forced my eyes to remain on the back of his head until he slipped back into the car. It is very difficult to stay angry with an attractive person, they have such a fucking unfair advantage.
But I'm going to stick to my guns on this one, I know I can.
It was decided that Hayes could join us in Surrey, to get a hold of himself again. So whilst we chatted about the direction of the band, Dominique proceeded to fuss over Hayes in another room. I launched a cushion towards Roger's head once he made a joke about our two 'girlfriends' being sent off so that they couldn't get involved in band business.
Why Roger kept making such jokes about Hayes and I, well I didn't know. Either he saw something and I didn't, or he wanted to make all the jokes he could after recording our gay club album debut 'Hot Space'. My money is on him simply being an annoying prat for the sake of it.
I left first, because I now seemingly had the responsibility of Hayes. There wasn't all that much to discuss once Roger told us if his plans for a solo album. I threw it out there that I was considering an album too, but it wasn't a priority. My mind was simply on other things the whole time, so everyone suggested that we talk business in another couple of weeks once we're rested.
"Terry is outside," I informed Hayes, who was sprawled out on the floor with Felix, letting him win at a game of Snap. "Come on."
Hayes was eerily silent the whole car journey home. I suppose it didn't help that I sat in the front and made no effort to speak with him. Just a tiny taste of his own medicine. Who am I fucking kidding, he probably loves it when I don't chatter away to him. Conversation offends him. If he wants to stew in silence, I'll let him stew in silence.
The first time we spoke to each other was when I handed him a glass of water once he sat down at my dining room table. "Thanks- thank you." He stammered as if startled.
"It's nothing."
Hayes lifted his eyes to mine, appearing lost, "You look tired."
"I am tired." I huffed and took the seat beside him. "Care to tell me what happened to you?"
Hayes didn't reply, he simply swept back his tangled hair and stared down at the table. It seems every time I go a few weeks with seeing Hayes, his demeanour changes slightly and it takes him a while to get back to normal. This time his behaviour had shifted completely. It seemed to be an entirely different person sitting at my table right now.
Whether that was a good different or a bad different I couldn't tell just yet. I also didn't know whether I wanted to stick around the man long enough to find out. There's only so much time you can spend on someone who clearly doesn't appreciate your efforts. I doubt anyone else is this bloody patient with him.
And maybe that's part of the problem.
"Can I get Terry to drop you home?" I sighed, "To your brother's? Airport? Anywhere?"
Hayes shook his head slowly. "No. It's fine." He chewed on his bottom lip, "It's fine." He returned his gaze to mine. "I'll figure something out."
My god his expression half broke my heart, how the bloody hell am I meant to turn him away? Hayes may as well have been wearing a flashing sign that said "can somebody please just take me in, care about me, no one ever has before," because that is exactly what his entire demeanour communicated. I'm too much of a soft touch.
Alright, so maybe I can give him a little more time. I sighed deeply, annoyed that I was finding it so difficult to stay angry with this man, "I have a spare room, it's yours for a couple of days if you want to... recuperate."
"You don't have to do that." Hayes said softly, as if in disbelief, "It's too much trouble." This way of speaking was new too, where was his usual cold bite?
"What is? Letting you sleep in a room I don't use? Don't be daft. It's fine."
"You're sure?" Hayes asked suspiciously, his head tilted to the side.
"Of course I'm sure," I waved a dismissive hand, "I'm recuperating myself for a few days."
Something about my tone seemed to strike Hayes as he glanced over at me, "Is everything alright?"
"Had a shit month." I shrugged carelessly, "Mhm, if you tuned into SNL, you'll see one of the worst performances of your life."
"I don't watch it."
Of course you don't.
"Thank god for that, it would be far too much cannon fodder for you darling." I smiled sweetly, "Told everyone I was sick, but in reality had a screaming match with my newly ex boyfriend the night before. It was truly a lovely trip to New York."
Hayes winced, "That sounds rough. Are you okay?" His hand heavily rested on my shoulder. What the fuck is he doing? How does he know what basic human comfort gestures are?
It seemed the prospect of staying here had improved Hayes' mood slightly. Although, anything that gets him away from his family would probably do that for him. It was the same at his party, and at the Races. When we were alone he was fine, but add other people to the mix and he seemed miserable (especially his relatives).
"Yes, I'm fine." I clipped coldly, "Which you would have known if you bothered to pick up the bloody phone!"
Another wince, but this time he said nothing. Instead, his thumb idly brushed up and down my collarbone. A steady warmth lazily radiated from the gesture, but my breath sharply turned uneven. As if finally aware of what he was doing, Hayes once again pulled away. This time he stood up, putting a physical distance between us like the skittish creature he is.
"I apologise for ignoring you, I just- well- I want you to know," his newfound inability to speak with his usual silver tongue was unnerving, "I want you to know that it wasn't anything you did that caused me to act like... like such- such a- you know."
"Like a cold, miserable, moody tart?"
Hayes nodded, a faint smirk graced his lips, "Exactly that."
"Apology accepted on a temporary basis." I sniffed, "Now, piss off and have a shower, you stink. I'll give you some clean clothes to change into."
Hayes rolled his eyes at that, but a small laugh escaped him. "Don't go too mad with power Freddie, you'll regret it when I'm back on form again."
I scoffed, "Keep walking until I can't smell you anymore Hayes, please."
"I'm even more sorry that I ignored you for so long now," He gestured between us, "I missed this." He cooed playfully and shot me a crooked smile.
I mentally scolded myself when I returned the smirk, because I certainly didn't give my mouth permission to do so. Hayes' lips parted, as if to say more, but he shook his head and disappeared. I watched as Tiffany appeared from the other end of the hall and followed Hayes. That may be a problem I didn't account for. A dose of karma would serve the diva right, so I remained seated and let Tiffany wander off.
If I was going to take in a high strung stray for a few days, I probably should have put a little bit more thought into it.
——-
A/N-
Hope you all enjoyed! And wanted to say a quick thank you for all the engagement, I really appreciate it! ❤️
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