H.G
London, U.K
May, 20th.

I wearily eyed the photographers that littered the conference room of the Claridges hotel. Surely they were a fire hazard just squished in the walkways like that. I wouldn't be surprised to find a few of them foaming at the mouth, ready to all capture the exact same photo of the one celebrity who would be joining us shortly.

I was about to skulk over towards the wall when my name was suddenly shouted in a thick Yorkshire accent. "Hayes Griffith! Where d'ya think you're going mate?"

There was murmuring at the mention of my name, and I had to force down my groan. Look, don't bloody laugh, but I'm somewhat of a big deal in journalism circles. Yes, it is fairly fucking embarrassing, and it does not fill me with pride. One of the only perks is that I can show up late and get a seat anywhere I want.

There was seventy four journalists already in that room, my arrival had made it seventy five. I was rather late, but thankfully the talent never shows up on time either. I think Mr Bowie was jetting in from Australia so I doubt he would be in any sort of delightful mood.

"James." I forced a grin and managed to chat my way into the second row. I didn't like being in the front, but I certainly didn't want to be too far back.

"Must be a big deal if they're sending out the big guns." James Clarke of Melody Maker chuckled as he patted the seat beside him.

"Oh," I sighed and undid my coat, "I wouldn't say that."

"It's a cracking deal for Bowie." James took a drag of his cigarette, "Would you at least say that?"

David Bowie had recently signed a jolly huge deal with E.M.I after his time at R.C.A came to an end. According to reports, he had been signed for a crazy $17.5 million. Apparently it started by covering his latest release Let's Dance, which was doing a bomb in the charts and in sales.

"I would say that." I agreed, "You know he and his manager also own the recording copyrights? Clever sods."

A glass of champagne was placed in my hand and a tray of hors d'oeuvre was thrust in front of me. E.M.I really do love to flash the cash. I carefully plucked up a blini with gravlax and took as delicate a bite as I could manage. It only dawned on me then, that I couldn't remember the last time I had ate. Between my busy work and travel schedule, I don't know when I last made time to eat.

"Clever?" James repeated, "You're mellowing."

"Hm," I chuckled halfheartedly.

Ajay Singh from News of the World leant over the back of my seat, "Bowie's Moonlight tour seems to be a big operation."

"Be that as it may, watch the most common question at the conference be 'David, why aren't you playing in my city'." I scoffed, "I can't bloody stand it, he doesn't plan the tour himself."

"Surely not," Ajay frowned, "Not when the tour has already been spoken about."

"I could put any amount of money on it." I stretched my legs out and crossed them at the ankles.

I turned slightly, "Any exciting questions lined up Singh?"

"The boss wants me to focus on his film career rather than the music." He said as if it were such a fresh angle.

"He won't expect that." I commented dryly causing James to laugh.

After a few more minutes of stilted small talk, David Bowie was announced to the room. We clapped. He confidently walked into the lion's den, and made a beeline for his table. David looked to be relieving his Thin White Duke years with his clean cut style: neat blonde hair and a fitted grey suit.

David proceeded to half sit on the table rather than the chair, and leant his face closer to the cluster of microphones set up in front of him. Ready for the media circus.

"Ah, a few days ago E.M.I records phoned me up in  Australia and said, 'would you like to take a twenty five hour flight back, and come sit in a room of seventy five journalists?'"

Bowie flashed a playful smile, "So, I dropped everything. And I'll tell you everything they want me to tell you."

Us journalists are the worst part of a musician's career. Now, many of us are aware of that fact, and try our best to make an interview interesting, or treat it just like a chat. Others? They can be mind numbingly painful. I'm sure I can give you an example almost straight away.

After David explained that his tour was kicking off in Europe soon, and that his records were doing well, and that he had a couple of movies on the go, he gave us the floor. Music legend David Bowie is giving you a few minutes to ask him anything, you obviously make it count.

"Why aren't you playing Scotland?"

I rolled my eyes and settled further into my seat with folded arms.

"Sorry?"

"Why aren't you playing Scotland?"

David proceeded to explain that he obviously can't perform in every single city, and that he's already doing ninety cities as it is. He does have a few shows in the United Kingdom already. I know that won't appease a Scotsman, I could already sense the backlash from David saying he 'already had shows in England'.

"Why not in Spain?"

Here we bloody go.

"What's your favourite aspect of your work?"

"Up to present?" David lifted his brows, "Oh well, conferences like this." He chuckled and evoked the laughter of many others in the room.

"Tell us about your films." Ajay piped in finally.

That was the topic of conversation for a few minutes. I had not seen any of his films, so I didn't have any opinions or thoughts on the matter.

"What are the best things in life at the moment?"

David paused before he replied with a serious frown,  "Being with my son, and uh waking up and feeling as though I've got a future-" (after a rather monotonous interview, that seemed to catch my attention) "-as a person, rather than just as an commodity, or something."

"Is that a significant change from before?" I found myself asking. It wasn't like me to piggyback off of someone else's question, but here I was, leaning forward in my seat.

A few people glanced at me, wondering if I was being a sarcastic twat or genuine. I don't exactly know what came over me, this seemed like a personal matter, I never asked about such issues. The word 'commodity' seemed to strike something in me, as did the fact that David had somehow managed to get away from feeling that way. Was I relating to a musician? Acknowledging one as a person rather than just a music making machine? Clearly I was spending too much time with Freddie.

David's face lit up with recognition as he glanced at me, before he nodded, "Very much so, yeah, it's developed slowly over the last five or six years, but it's very- it's very fulfilling to feel that."

"In what way did you feel like a commodity?" I pressed.

Bowie's brows knit together, "Ah, I didn't have very much regard for myself at all. I didn't have that much respect for myself, because I had been living a very archetype rock and roll life up until '76. That doesn't do any good for anyone."

Someone then piped in and brought the topic back onto movies, but I didn't care. I was busy churning Bowie's words in my mind.  It was such an interesting statement for him to make without provocation. His break made sense now. Now he was back, fresh and making the music he wanted. Bowie admitted himself that the album was simple, and that's how he intended it. He wanted fun and positivity. I was bloody off my game for the album and only picked at faults for the sake of it. Bowie wanted simple, that was his vision and he succeeded.

Freddie could scarcely hide his amusement when I informed him of my epiphany. To be fair, I was hopped up on coffee and chattering on about musician's reflecting their current stages in life through their music as if I had solved world hunger.

"Are you telling me that you never took into account that musician's write to reflect their moods?"

"Oh I know you all spewed that nonsense, but it's the first time I believed it!"

"We have talked about you calling moods nonsense."

I cracked a sheepish grin up toward Freddie. I was currently laid out on the couch and using his lap as a pillow. With his fingers massaging through my hair; I couldn't think of a time where I had felt more comfortable.

"So when you wrote 'A Day At the Races', you were feeling lazy?" My eyes flickered shut, "What a revelation."

"Bitch." Freddie muttered, "So you and Bowie had dinner? Anything else you want to tell me seeing as you've been panting over him all evening?"

"You know how I feel about blondes," I hummed, "But he's not half bad in a suit."

"I may never recover from this type of betrayal Hayes, I hope you know that."

I laughed in response and kissed him until he stopped his faux strop. That's how the next few weeks passed, with short but sweet moments between Freddie and I. As he slowly became busier with recording his album, the moments became were fewer and far between. Then I was also preoccupied with reviews, interviews and features. The music industry seemed to be sparking up once again.

One week I spoke to Elton John, who was near impossible to keep up with due to his evident cocaine use. Days later I was flown out to chat to Van Halen in California. Once work was tied up, I was able to carve out twenty four hours in sunny Los Angeles with Freddie. Unfortunately, I threw away most of that time by sleeping. Lindsey Buckingham and Mick Fleetwood were always interesting to chat to and I was grateful to get speaking with them whilst at home in New York.

Now I'm back in the big bad London once again, this time for leisure and not business.

"Is that Guinness!?"

"George, tell your brother to stop being so overbearing." Anne groaned and attempted to hide the pint glass away from my outstretched hand.

"I am not getting involved." George murmured as he perused a copy of the Times.

"You are pregnant!"

"I am low on iron, the doctor suggested that a glass of Guinness every now and then would—"

"Where did your doctor get his degree?" I exclaimed, "At the end of a rainbow in a pot of gold?"

"Since when did you turn into a university snob?" Anne dashed around the other side of the table to get away from me.

"He hasn't," George sighed, "He's just fussing, and this is his way of doing so." The papers rustled as he changed the pages.

"Next he'll be telling you to knock back vodka for infections!"

"If this is how you are with me, I don't even want to know how you'll be with the mother of your own children." Anne laughed as eventually handed me over the glass of Guinness (after taking a large gulp).

The glass almost slipped out of my hand at her words, but I attempted to force a small smile. I felt George's gaze land on me, gauging my reaction. He probably assumed that with all the drama with our father, anything relating to marriage or children would set me off. In truth, I was more jarred by the reminder children may never be on the cards for me than I was at my father's ultimatum.

"Oh bloody hell. Hayes I'm sorry." Annie murmured and tucked herself under my arm, "I didn't mean anything by it."

"I know." I chuckled and gently gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Now, in all seriousness, where did your doctor get his degree? And don't say Queen's University."

George demanded I come home at least once every month for a 'family dinner'. I have to say, I enjoyed the first one so much, that I made the trip to Knightsbridge twice a month. Everyone at the table spoke to each other, they laughed, and I didn't have to be comforted by the cook in the pantry when it was all over. It was bloody brilliant!

"Natalie is going to be joining us this evening." George sipped at his tea, "And you need to be nice- but not too nice Hayes."

"She's vulnerable at the moment." Annie added as she patted my chest, "And you know how she finds you 'sensitive' compared to Oliver."

Yes, that tells you how awful Oliver is. I am the sensitive one.

"I don't understand why she clings to me so much." I grumbled, mostly because Natalie's shine to me  evoked Oliver's wrath.

"You know exactly why," George lifted a brow my way, "It's normal for people to bloody care about each other after dating you twit."

"That was a million years ago." I cringed.

"Obviously you're just so difficult to get over Hayes." Anne feigned a dreamy sigh that had me rolling my eyes in response.

Alright, to cut a short story even shorter, because this is completely trivial and doesn't matter, Natalie and I dated briefly. I was sixteen, she was attractive, intelligent, and ran in my circles. She was the first woman I ever... you know, and I was the first man she... you know. I didn't not enjoy it, but I suppose looking back, a young lad should have been a lot more excited about sex with such a stunner and not have found it to be such a chore. Eventually we got to a point where I viewed us as friends, rather than anything more. She disagreed. I stayed with her for another year.

I'm not proud of how we broke things off, I better lead with that. I may... have asked Julian to attempt to 'steal her' off me. It didn't work, she was faithful, but I er, pretended to have a fit of insecurity. I couldn't handle her being flirted with, wanted by other men, etcetera. Then things ended. A little while later she somehow ended up dating Oliver. That was spectacularly awkward, especially when I had to pretend I was bothered by the fact. Anyway, after a few months of dating there was a shock proposal. The engagement made a lot more sense once their daughter Mathilda was born not long after the knot was tied.

And there you have it. I know how you all love your English toff family dramas, but don't expect much more of it.

"I am very memorable darling."

"Don't bloody purr at my wife like that." George huffed and closed his paper. "Now, why don't you set the table?" He instructed me as if I were one of his children.

"Me? Can't I make a child do it?" I said as Lottie charged into the room.

"It's your turn uncle Griff." She grumbled as if extremely fed up with my attitude.

"Says who?" I frowned and scooped up my godchild.

She squeezed herself close to me, "Me. The boss."

The boss ruled the roost throughout dinner and mercifully demanded all of my attention as we ate. Natalie arrived a few minutes late, and she looked visibly upset at various intervals throughout the night. Oliver was a bloody prick, Natalie was sweet, so naturally I would assume that he could be a bit of a bully. They did fight, constantly. I think now that their children were growing up, the marriage was completely falling apart.

That's none of my business though, so I am not getting involved. We are good at ignoring familial issues in our family, so I didn't expect to be dragged into things.

Of course I did end up being yanked into the issue when Natalie burst into tears out in the back garden when I offered her a cigarette. I panicked and did the only thing I could when tears were involved- I hugged her. She was sobbing about how unhappy she was with my brother, how he treated her awfully, how he's had women on the side. I knew she was in a vulnerable state, so I really did take George's 'be nice, but not too nice' advice to heart. I just hoped the little moment wouldn't come back to to bite me later with Oliver.

My mother phones me twice a month, which has been nice. Dad, once a month. That was not so nice, but at least they were speaking to me. Getting caught up in the dramatic marriage of Nat and Oliver would do me absolutely no favours.

When I relayed all of this back to Freddie over the phone, he went on a rant about families and how awful they could be. Somehow, in the middle of all that, he asked did I want to meet his sister, Kash. Deep down I knew that Freddie didn't mean he was going to introduce me as the man he was... seeing (?). Freddie was not open with his family either. Yet, it still spooked me slightly. I pretended not to have heard - bad connection-  and told him that I missed him and had to sleep.

I found myself smiling into my pillow at the mere thought of seeing him in person once again. That man is bloody ruining me.

***

New York
June, 16th

Things were going very well with Freddie, probably a little too well. So, naturally, I knew it was only a matter of time before I fucked things up. After a nice relaxing day spent with Freddie at home in New York, things took a rather sour turn. I suppose an argument had been brewing under the surface for quite some time now, but it still managed to catch us both off guard when it finally boiled over.

We ended up going out to the dreaded 'Happy's' because Freddie was in a rather restless mood. I was fairly shattered after a busy work week, so I suggested that I drop him and go back home. That earned me a quip about being boring. Today, the comment really seemed to rub me up the wrong way, but I let it slide. I knew I wasn't very exciting, and Freddie knew it too, but at this point if it bothered him so much, I don't know why he would continue to spend so much time with me.

It was one of the simplest jabs I had ever gotten from Freddie, yet it somehow made me feel like I was walking around with an open wound that night. I was prepared to leave Freddie with his friends and wander about the bar, but Joe caught at my arm when I stood up from the table.

Joe fancied me, that was very obvious. It was also obvious that he was well trollied by the time Freddie and I arrived in. So I wasn't all that surprised when he threw a suggestive comment my way and tugged me back down beside him.

A muscle in Freddie's jaw jumped slightly at that. He hadn't told anyone that him and I were together, because I wasn't ready for anyone to know about us just yet. As people didn't know we were together, it meant awkward moments like this. I really appreciated how much Freddie was respecting my wishes, but I knew he was growing more impatient by the day.

"Are you still just looking at the menu Hayes, or have you indulged yet?" Joe joked, and it was clear what he was talking about.

I opted to play dumb. "I don't know what you're talking about." I murmured and sipped at my glass of water.

Everyone else was chattering away, but I could feel Freddie's attention on me. He knew that I wasn't giving anyone else the time of day, but I still probably wasn't doing enough to knock Joe back. I should just say 'sod off, I'm with Freddie', but I was finding it difficult to take that final leap.

Truthfully, I didn't want to go all in with Freddie yet, and not because I wasn't crazy about him. I had never cared what happened with any of my previous relationships, so I didn't exactly have many insecurities or fears. This was different, I was terrified of putting myself out there with Freddie. 'Boring' him, was just one of my many concerns.

A man that I knew to be Freddie's ex soon joined the table. Of course he was the total opposite of me. Leather jacket wearing, charismatic, and 'cool'. Freddie beamed at him in greeting, and I could only hope that his reaction was brought on by all the vodka tonics he has had.

"Hayes you're back." Vince flashed a friendly smile my way.

"So are you." I smiled blandly and impatiently drummed my fingers along the table.

Paul Prenter then leant over and offered me a line of coke, which I refused. He was already on it, so he proceeded to chatter my ear off. Luckily my mother was also from Belfast or I wouldn't have caught a word in that sped up accent. Not that I really wanted to understand the absolute nonsense he spoke.

"Freddie refers to Vince as 'the one that got away'." Joe whispered, "I doubt it'll stay that way though. I don't think he'll be able to resist Freddie for that much longer."

Fuck. Off.

"Mark my words they'll be back together by the end of the week."

"Smashing, good for them." I said flatly, "Lovely."

Fantastic. Brilliant. Splendid. Superb. Exceptional. Fucking outstanding!

"Freddie and I are going to get a few drinks," Vince stood up and ran a hand down to unzip his leather jacket.

Vince drove a motorcycle, and that was his entire personality. I don't care how much everyone else loves him. Vince could not let you forget the fact that he was a biker, from what he wore to what he spoke about. Yet I'm still the fucking dull one. He was also on the larger 'buff' side, which I have noticed is Freddie's apparent type.

Yet here I was, the lanky, boring, English, writer. I couldn't be any further removed from what Freddie usually liked if I bloody tried.

"A water for you Hayes?" Freddie half sneered.

What is his fucking problem?

"I'm driving."

"Ever heard of a cab?"

"Yes I have heard of a taxi."

A simple conversation, but everyone shifted uncomfortably as if we had just hissed all sorts at each other. Freddie was rather pissed at me since we walked into the bar, I don't know exactly what I did. He was the one insulting me all evening.

"I'll come help you." Joe announced in order to subdue the tension. "Don't miss me too much Hayes, I'll be back."

I scoffed in response. Joe playfully smacked a kiss on my cheek and told me he would retrieve me some water. With another loud scoff, I pushed him away.

"I need to use the lavatory." I excused myself.

"Meet you in a stall in five." Joe threw a grin my way as he turned to join Freddie and Vince.

I rolled my eyes but a smile involuntarily twitched at my lips as his unrelenting spew of brazen jokes. Despite of us going our separate ways, a hand tugged at my elbow a few seconds later. I knew the touch immediately, it was Freddie. I whirled to find the rockstar glowering at me.

"How about you tell Joe to fuck off?"

"I have done so, repeatedly." I sighed impatiently, yet enjoying the firm press of his body against mine.

"Obviously, you haven't been clear enough dear." Freddie snapped with genuine fury. That certainly was the result of too many vodka tonics. "Just let me tell them that you and I have something."

"Wouldn't that upset Vince?" I couldn't help but murmur sarcastically.

"For fuck sake," Freddie threw his eyes heavenward, "I can't speak to my friend, but you can have Joe practically on his knees in front of you?"

"That might distract me when you finally catch up to the 'one that got away'."

"You're jealous?"

"Should I be?"

"Maybe," Freddie's dark eyes sought out mine, "If only there was a way of signalling to everyone that I'm off the market."

I didn't exactly appreciate the tactic Freddie was using to force my sexuality into the light. When I was good and ready I would let Freddie tell anybody and everybody what he wanted about him and I. Today just wasn't that day. Freddie could be too 'now, now, now' with his attitude, which ordinarily I found endearing, but when applied to this current issue, I found grating.

"If only." I shrugged a shoulder.

Freddie's gaze dropped to my lips with annoyance. "Okay," He mirrored my shrug, "If that's how you want to play it Hayes."

He whirled on his heel, and sped off to go and find Vince. I could only hope that Freddie's threats were all bark and no bite. I won't admit to much, but the thought of Freddie being with anyone else would drive me insane. Freddie's friends don't strike me as the most trustworthy sort. Phoebe knew about us because I knew he could be trusted with such information. Paul and company didn't appear like the type who would keep their lips sealed.

I returned back to the booth a few minutes later, where only Joe and Thor remained. They were nice people, but I didn't exactly know how trustworthy they were.

"Where's Freddie?" I asked casually after a few minutes of light conversation.

"Dance floor." Thor hummed, "You should have seen the guy I last seen him talking to."

"Wow." Joe agreed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

An hour passed before I worked up enough courage to find Freddie. Alright, 'courage' may have been the wrong word. I was pissed off. I wasn't a chauffeur so he could bloody spend his evening with other lads. I didn't know what he got up to in Germany, and didn't want to know. But this? This was right in front of me.

From the outskirts of the dance floor, I saw that Freddie had indeed become quite enraptured with a man. Although, I wouldn't exactly use the descriptor 'wow'. Seeing Freddie dazzle and attract person after person into his orbit, had me once again contemplating the many differences between us. There's not a chance he would be satisfied with just me, and I didn't expect him to be.

I watched as one of the men pushed himself closer to Freddie - practically pressed himself on top of him. I tensed, waiting for Freddie's reaction, foolishly hoping he would pull away. Instead, he grinned, let his hand fall down the man's back and whispered something in his ear.

A hot flash of jealousy seared through me. It wasn't an entirely new sensation for me, but it was the first time I ever felt it strong enough to act like an idiotic Neanderthal.

I stalked over and when Freddie caught sight of me he merely lifted his brows with amusement. The man sensed Freddie's attention was elsewhere, and turned to face me. Thankfully, I had at least half a foot on him.

"I'm going home." I stared at Freddie pointedly as if to say 'and you're coming with me'.

"Oh that's fine Hayes," Freddie waved a hand dismissively, "I think I have another lift home now, say hello to Tony." He nudged the man beside him, who was now looking me up and down apprehensively.

"We're going Freddie." I repeated, ignoring 'Tony' outright.

"He doesn't want to go with you." Tony huffed as if he had any say in the matter.

I considered him for a moment cool indifference before flashing him a sickly sweet smile, "Fuck off sweetheart."

Freddie proceeded to burst out laughing, "Hayes! Behave." He slowly rubbed his hand up and down my chest, "He's working on his people skills if you must know."

Speaking about me as if I were some clueless fool that he felt sorry for only added to my irritation. So, I peeled his hand away from my chest and backed up a step in defeat.

"Alright, if you have a way home sorted, I suppose there's no need for me to stick around."

"No, there's really not." Freddie shrugged dismissively.

"Bye then Freddie." I averted my gaze as I turned around.

"Don't forget to say goodbye to Tony." He crooned after me, just to get one last barbed comment in there.

Freddie didn't follow me, nor did I wait for him. No, I went home and crawled into bed- not that I could sleep. In fact, I don't think I slept a wink because I was too preoccupied stressing over what bed Freddie would be crawling into tonight. All I knew was that it wasn't fucking mine.

___

A/N: A shorter chapter than usual! I hope you all enjoyed! Also, thank you so much for 7k reads, I really appreciate it!❤️