A/N - A crappy filler chapter to keep you all ticking over until I'm finished my assignments haha. Enjoy 🤍

Phoebe
Munich - New York
December

"Freddie, this isn't even borderline stalking, it's literally stalking."

Freddie didn't even glance up in my general direction; he merely exhaled sharply and waved a dismissive hand in my face. He then set about shifting restlessly in his seat for the umpteenth time, which caused the cream leather of the towncar to squeak furiously. My jaw twitched with impatience.

"Hayes sort of knows I'm here, so it's not stalking."

"He doesn't want to see—" I immediately cut myself off when Freddie turned to give me an absolutely simmering stare. "—I ah, what I mean is, Hayes doesn't seem up for any company right now."

I had been beyond shocked when Freddie phoned me on Christmas Eve, looking to flee the country. I was even more surprised when I realised that Hayes wasn't with him. The second Freddie touched down in Munich, he went off with Barbara and the Munich gang for a messy night of 'festivities'. The rockstar was beyond hungover the next morning, but mercifully woke up alone in the apartment. I had been rather worried that he wouldn't because Freddie didn't mention Hayes' name once that day.

Hayes did ring on Christmas Day, which was the only indication the pair were actually together. Freddie practically took a running leap towards the phone the second it let out it's first shrill ring. I  didn't know how he managed really considering he had been throwing his gut up all morning. I was going to leave the apartment, give them both some privacy, but I didn't even manage to get my coat on before I heard the phone being slammed back down on the receiver again.

He can barely say a word! It's like he's reading off a bloody script. What the fuck am I doing here!?

With that rant, Freddie had decided to hop on another plane with poor me in tow. The trip to New York was proving fruitless when Freddie couldn't even get past the doorman into Hayes' building. I stood and watched as Freddie went through several tactics; bribery, threats, and even threw down the celebrity card, but nothing worked. Hayes did not want to see him... and that really rattled Freddie.

"He has to leave at some stage." Freddie assured himself aloud, "Doesn't he?"

Freddie insisted that they give Hayes another day, even after yesterday's failed attempt to see him. So here I was, freezing to death in a car beside my boss, on a bloody stakeout to speak with an elusive music critic. It wasn't exactly how I saw my holiday season going.

"Yes, I'm sure he'll be out soon." I murmured, but didn't know if I believed my own words. Something bad must have went down.

Freddie nodded slowly, "Yes, yes, it'll be fine."

I was Freddie's friend, yes, but I'm also his employee, which made it difficult at times to know how far I could involve himself in personal matters. Surely the fact that I'm here with him means I can ask what the hell is going on. And this is my Hayes we're talking about.

"I know you said you two didn't have an argument..." I trailed off, letting Freddie elaborate if he wanted to.

"We didn't." Freddie replied briskly.

"Then what—"

"—what happened?" Freddie chuckled ruefully, "I don't fucking know, that's the problem Phoebe. I walked into the flat, and he had his bag packed, ready to go."

Before I could question anything any further, Freddie pressed on.

"I shouldn't have let him go in the first place, he was clearly fucking torn apart by something, but I panicked." Freddie's voice caught ever so slightly, "Now he's holed up there in his apartment... you have no idea how fucking terrifying his behaviour was Phoebe. I have never seen anything like it."

And now he's all alone...

"Is that Alex Moore?" Freddie suddenly snapped. "No fucking way is Hayes going to let him in and not me!"

I squinted through the heavy snowfall to catch sight of the figure Freddie pointed out. Alex was dressed in a blindingly bright red overcoat coat so I had to continue squinting against the harsh colour when I  spotted him. Freddie had bitched about the fashion critic on several occasions. I just assumed that Freddie's apparent vendetta against Alex was because of his close proximity to Hayes... and because Hayes' type was clearly bright and bold characters.

"Surely that's a woman's coat- Freddie?" I joked before I half squeaked, "Freddie I think you should calm—"

The door was slammed shut before I could even suggest he calmed down before approaching Hayes' coworker.

"Alex!"

Alex stilled, visibly let out a sigh so dramatic it would give Freddie a run for his money, and turned around. "Freddie, how are you keeping?"

"Fine. Are you going in to see Hayes?" Freddie's eyes snagged on a bag tucked under Alex's arm, "What's that you have?

"A pregnancy test," Alex replied dryly because it was clearly a grocery bag, "Fingers crossed its yours."

Freddie was not amused, "What are you doing here?"

Alex seemed a little perplexed by Freddie's questioning, but had no reason to lie. "Hayes phoned this morning. He's a little under the weather and wanted to know if I would pick him up a thing or two from the shop."

"Did you just get here? I'm sure Hayes will be delighted to see you."

"Yes, so let's keep it a surprise." Freddie chirped and yanked the bag free from Alex's loose grasp. The critic merely huffed indignantly before he threw a polite smile my way, "And who's this?"

"Not important." Freddie replied and pushed Alex in front of him as if to conceal him from the approaching doorman.

"I'm Peter." I ducked my head because apparently my current type was men who worked for Rolling Stone.

"Peter," Alex nodded, "The very important Peter, who has to deal with a high strung rockstar all day and night. Thank you for your service darling—"

"Oh will you shut up." Freddie snapped before pulling on a polite smile for the doorman's benefit.

Trevor the dragon was gone. He was the usual soldier posted inside the lobby of Hayes' apartment block. He didn't even furrow his thick grey brows when Freddie offered him an obscene amount of money earlier. He merely shut the door right in his face once again, and locked it with a slow intensity that would have been hilarious in any other situation.

"Ah Mr Mercury!" Jose, the doorman in my little gossip network, exclaimed in surprise as he creaked the door open, "Hello."

"Ah Jose," Freddie sighed with relief, "How are you dear?"

"Good." Jose's big brown eyes widened in alarm, "Mr Griffith says you can't—"

"Oh come now," Alex scoffed and pushed his way through, "Hayes is sick up there, let's not waste precious time- Jose was it?"

Jose merely spluttered uselessly before he shot me a pleading look, but my hands were tied. Between you and I, Jose was half in love with Alex when they shacked up for a night of fun a couple of weeks ago... clearly Alex didn't even remember him. Poor sod. What a small world.

Seconds later, I was squished between a bickering Alex and Freddie in a cramped lift. It seemed as though Alex had finally caught onto the fact that Freddie wasn't meant to be there. They were tugging the shopping bag between them, as if it really mattered who gave it to Hayes. I merely stared up at the dim light on the ceiling, trying to drown them both out.

Alex beat Freddie to the door in the end and delicately rapped his knuckles against the polished wood. As if realising that Freddie was about to face the man that almost violently didn't want to see him, he conceded a small step. For a brief second all guises dropped, and he looked bloody terrified at the prospect of being rejected.

The door slowly swung open, and Freddie further retreated until his back lightly hit the wall behind him. Alex frowned at that before he returned his gaze to the opening in the door. An overly bright grin graced his lips as if he knew he needed to overcompensate for a stormy Hayes.

"Delivery for Hayes Griffith." Alex quipped and teasingly held out the grocery bag.

Hayes leant over the threshold, his shoulder planted firmly behind the door frame. "Thought you'd send Ricardo." He limply held a hand out, "Thanks."

I winced at Hayes' raw voice as it sounded quite painful. I wondered if he had been crying, or shouting, but then he proceeded to let out a bark-like cough into a handkerchief and it was clear he really was sick.

"Hayes?" Freddie had finally plucked up the courage to approach.

Hayes straightened at the sound of Freddie's gentle voice, and I finally managed to sneak a proper glance at him. He was ashen, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead thanks to the sickly sweat that lay there.  All three of us seemed frozen by the sight of a sick Hayes because only one disease seemed to exist at that moment and we were all being constantly bombarded by the latest figures of its destruction.

"It's just a flu," Hayes clarified gruffly, "I was a little hypothermic a few days ago, but everything's fine now." He plucked the bag from Alex's grasp and went to back away once again, but Freddie immediately pushed his way through the door.

I was rather surprised that Hayes didn't put up a fight considering he so adamantly didn't want Freddie entering the building before. Hayes just seemed as though he was too tired to give a shit about what anyone else did right now. He let out a defeated sigh and gestured for me to come in before he stepped out to speak with Alex for a moment.

Freddie was carefully examining the living room when I caught up to him. It seemed as though Hayes hadn't moved from that stuff and imposing leather couch since he returned home. A pillow was strewn across it, as was a throw. Three empty cartons of cigarettes lay across the brass and lucite coffee table, as did an equal amount of Irish Oak whiskey bottles. L.Ps were carelessly strewn on the floor, half in and half out of their sleeves, and that was perhaps the most shocking part of it all. And he's not even using a bloody coaster.

Hayes returned a few moments later, just as Freddie, yes Freddie, attempted to tidy some of the records away. The critic dropped the shopping bag on the floor near the adjoining door to the kitchen before he slowly let his gaze land on Freddie.

"I'll put that shopping away for you," I offered even though I would have much preferred to wait in the car. Strangely, Fredde looked as though he desperately wanted me to stay put.

"No," Hayes held up a hand briskly, "I let you both in to see that I was alive. You've seen me. You can leave again."

Freddie looked as though his head had exploded with all the varying different emotions that raced through his mind. Hayes merely held his gaze, and tightened his woolen robe around him. I had to give Freddie credit for not immediately backing off, because Hayes' chilly glare would have been enough for me to melt back into the floorboards.

"You're clearly sick." Freddie murmured, "You shouldn't be alone."

Hayes' face fell at a painfully rapid rate, as if he had completely misheard Freddie. "Leave. Please."

"Phoebe will go, but I'm not leaving." Freddie said stubbornly.

"You'll both go." Hayes' hoarse voice further cracked, "Now."

I could easily recognise that Hayes appeared to be going through something awful, and that he was doing his damn best to shove Freddie away. Clearly it had worked temporarily on Christmas Eve. They needed to be alone, but it seemed as though I was just now a part of the furniture, for how much the pair noted my presence. Freddie was bloody blocking the hallway, and Hayes the kitchen. Why do couples insist on putting single people in the most outrageously uncomfortable positions ever!?

"Don't worry, I don't expect you to wait around this time, you're free." Hayes had a cold and cruel set to his lips, "Now just go."

Freddie's eyes narrowed, "What the fuck Hayes?"

I'm going to hide behind the couch, that seems to be my only option. I carefully sidestepped towards the scattered records on the ground, before I went on my knees and attempted to finish the job Freddie started. Just pretend you aren't here Peter, it's all fine.

"Do you need to be told again?" Hayes' broken voice trembled with rising anger, "Leave. I told you I didn't want to be around anyone, and of course you ignored my wishes."

"Because you're fucking scaring me Hayes, why are you acting like this? What happened?"

"Scaring you?" Hayes scoffed with an eye roll, "Can you please just sod off?"

No this isn't awkward, this is all fine and dandy. It's only awkward if I let it be awkward. I carefully slipped 'Kinda Kinks' back into its matching sleeve before I reached for Cream's Wheels of Fire which appeared to now be scratched.

"Sod off?" Freddie repeated. Clearly he didn't know whether to be outraged or remain concerned. If it were anyone but Hayes the former reaction would have been jumped to immediately.

"Yes." Hayes snapped, "Sod off. Thank you."

There was a crackling silence, before Freddie blew out an impatient hiss, "Fine. I'll fuck off."

"Fuck off, even better."

Okay. It's awkward. It's very bloody awkward.

I stood up quickly, and made my way for the hallway. Mercifully Freddie had moved out of the way whilst I had been on the floor hiding. A muscle had feathered in Freddie's jaw, but instead of letting rip, he whirled on his heel, and went to follow me. The plane home is going to be bloody brilliant.

There was a sudden sharp breath, followed by a succession of ragged inhales, "Wait- wait- I'm sorry Freddie- I'm sorry." Hayes struggled to get the words out, and he had now sank down onto the couch, "I'm sorry."

Freddie immediately froze in his tracks before he twisted back around. "Don't leave." Hayes wasn't crying, but he certainly was panicking, "I'm sorry, please don't leave me. I'm sorry."

In a few rapid steps, Freddie had all but engulfed Hayes in a tight embrace. "It's alright honey, it's okay." Hayes' hands had clawed into the fabric of Freddie's white shirt, as he desperately held onto him. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry. It's okay Hayes. It's okay."

I slipped out as Hayes finally seemed to let himself receive some comfort from Freddie. They both desperately needed that moment to happen.

Unfortunately, whatever it was that happened to Hayes wasn't a quick fix.

***

Munich - New York
January, 10 - 24th

I had been walking on eggshells since Christmas, and I was about to bloody throw in my notice any day now.

Everyone, even Freddie himself, claimed that he had an ogre like temper, and that he was quick to rise to it. Yes, he was quick to impatience, but I rarely saw that temper truly come out despite spending 24/7 with him. Luckily for me, Freddie had been going around snarling since his return to Munich just to show it off in case anyone may doubt that said temper existed. In the studio, he was fine, on his nights out, he was fine, but the second his mind wasn't distracted, bloody hell... he needed to be avoided at all costs.

That was a luxury I didn't have.

"FUCK!"

A crash from Freddie's bedroom had me slowly backing out toward the front door of the apartment. Perhaps I could make a quick escape and say that I was out shopping. That was believable.

"Phoebe!!!"

I sighed in defeat before I trudged off in the direction of Freddie's bedroom. Considering I cleaned it last night, I was a bit miffed at the fact that it looked as though a bomb had went off. Drawers were open and spilling out with clothes, the mattress was overturned, as was the piano stool.

"What's wrong?"

"The notebook- the journal-" Freddie spoke quickly, "It has everything from the fucking solo album in it- I can't- where's the fuck is it? Did you see it?"

Before I could attempt to settle Freddie or start up the search, he let out a particularly dirty slew of curses. When he was finished he groaned, "New York. It's in New York."

Things between Freddie and Hayes had been very... strange since the Boxing Day visit. I thought they had said ended things on a lovely note, but Munich seemed to be an awful influence on Freddie as did Hayes' self imposed isolation.

I didn't know what was wrong with Hayes, just that he had severe mood swings that led him to be either melancholic, comatose or irritable. In order to distract himself from both the emotional and physical distance from Hayes, Freddie threw himself into Munich's nightlife, or into work at the studio. Cocaine seemed to be the only reason Freddie could function... which may sound contradictory but it's the 80s, it's how every artist survives.

A depressed partner didn't seem to fit into Freddie's life right now, and Freddie's social appetites didn't fit with Hayes either, so I knew they were quite rocky at the moment. I also noticed that when Hayes didn't make the effort to fly over (as he had always previously done), Freddie didn't rush over to see him to pick up the slack.

I knew that deep down it was just a rough patch because Freddie stayed loyal. I knew that Freddie could twist the meaning of sex in his mind into a typical act done on any night out, as normal as having a drink, so he's never felt much remorse for cheating before. With Hayes I think he realised it was something he couldn't get away with, or something he could do to someone he truly loved. For now, he was behaving.

They'll be fine once they get over this hill.

"You left the notebook at Hayes'?" I asked, "That's good, at least you know where—"

Freddie's dark eyes simmered, "—good? It's in New York. I'm in Munich. It would be good if it were in fucking Munich."

I bit back my sigh, "It'll be nice for you to see Hayes—"

"—I'm not going! I'm far too busy." Freddie scoffed as if I were being ridiculous, "You'll go. I trust you with it. I'll give Hayes a call."

And that's how I ended up in Rolling Stone headquarters on a chilly Sunday evening. I was already drafting my resignation letter in my mind as I walked through the magazine-cover adorned hallway.

I assumed Hayes would look a little better than he did on Boxing Day, but he somehow managed to look even more feeble.

Hayes was sporting some dark scruff along his jaw, and over his lip. Which couldn't be right because Hayes shaves every morning. His hair was still well kept, parted in the middle and loosely swept back so at least he the world hadn't completely gone mad, but it did curl down to the nape of his neck. I also thought that maybe he had purchased a new suit, which he didn't have a chance to tailor yet as it was ill fitting, but it seemed as though Hayes had just lost some weight. Weight that didn't need to be lost.

For a split second, my mind went into overdrive and threatened me with the worst possible scenarios. What if he's sick? What if that's why he's suddenly pulled away? And if he's sick that would mean so is...

"Peter?" Hayes frowned, his voice heavy with fatigue. "Hello."

I rubbed awkwardly at the back of my neck, "Did Freddie not tell you I was coming around?" He did. I had heard him tell you explicitly on the phone what was happening.

Hayes frowned, and was silent as he trudged through his mind. The man had a near perfect memory, it was startling at times, but it seemed he may have lost that ability recently. Thankfully, a young girl suddenly appeared at his side, the misplaced journal in hand.

"Mr Griffith do you want—"

"Christ Reagan." Hayes murmured halfheartedly as if he had to pretend to be startled because that's what would be expected of him. He glanced at down at the girl's outstretched hand, "Oh yes, the journal. Sorry about that Peter."

Hayes plucked it up delicately, mumbled a thank you, and she scurried off. "I promise I didn't flip through it and make the necessary corrections." He joked in a way that suggested he was only doing so to give the illusion he knew how to be social right now.

Hayes Griffith, was currently not Hayes Griffith. He was just some nondescript man in a suit, and that was difficult for me to come to terms with, never mind Freddie. I could see why it was maybe difficult to visit him in this current state. Hayes didn't have a presence in the same way Freddie did, but he had a rather commanding aura all the same. You couldn't help but want to look at Hayes, but then immediately vanish the second he returned your gaze. He was intimidating, but one still desired to be intimidated by him.

None of that translated from Hayes' presence right now.

"Hayes, are you alright?" It was a simple and stupid question, but someone needed to ask it. Ordinarily I wouldn't have dared, but as previously stated, Hayes was no longer himself.

"Nobody's alright at work Peter." Hayes forced a chuckle, "You know how it is." There was a slight narrow to Hayes' eyes that told me not to press.

"Sorry I didn't make the trip out myself," Hayes then said as he sat himself down on a reception room chair. "It's hectic here in January."

"That's alright," I smiled but he didn't return the gesture, he merely raked a hand through his hair and nodded.

We exchanged a brief goodbye before something, well, someone distracted me from making my exit. My eyes caught on the small dip of Alex Moore's waist and it caused me to pause in my tracks. Surely Hayes must have realised he was gay with this man swanning about. The fashion critic traipsed over to Hayes, and half sat upon the arm of his chair.

"Peter, good, you're still here!" Hayes suddenly called out whilst I mentally scolded himself for always wanting the overly pretty lads, "Could you come here for a moment?"

"Yes? What is it Hayes?"

Hayes shifted awkwardly in his seat, his gaze flickered between his fellow critic and I before he finally bit the bullet, "Has er, has Freddie mentioned a visit to New York?"

I had been subjected to numerous rants on the topic of Hayes. Freddie alternated between two mindsets, often in the same sentence. That's it! I'm going to just go to New York, and give Hayes a kick up the ass! He can't keep pushing himself away- no! Why should I have to make all the fucking effort? Hayes can come here!

"Why don't you pick up the phone and ask him?" Alex prodded Hayes' shoulder.

"Why are you still here?" Hayes simmered, "Go and try on some feather boas, or whatever it is you do."

"That's offensive, and I will report you to HR."

Before Hayes could grumble anything else, the fashion critic turned his attention to me.

"Peter wasn't it?" Alex's bright hazel eyes locked with Phoebe's, "I apologise for Mr Griffith," he patted Hayes' chest, "He's been an absolute terror the past few weeks. Well, more so than usual, think it's the dry spell that's getting to him. I keep telling him it's unnatural to go more than twenty-four hours without a shag—"

Hayes straightened in his seat, affronted, "Shut. Up."

"Y-yes, it's Peter." I stammered out, my brain only now catching up to the fact Alex remembered me, and was paying attention to me.

"Alex can flirt with everyone under the sun after you answer my question Peter." Hayes cut in impatiently, "Has Freddie said anything?"

"I prefer under the moonlight, it really is striking against my complexion."

Hayes proceeded to push Alex's impractical but fashionable silk scarf over Alex's mouth, before turning back to me with an expectant glance.

I sighed deeply, caught between the two divas, "Freddie's worried about you, so he wants to visit, but he feels as though he's making all the effort... and that you may not want him there."

Alex snorted loudly at that before he got up, "What a load of shite."

"This is none of your business Alex." Hayes growled and stood up to join him, "So stop weighing in."

"Last time I checked you're always the one dropping everything to catch a flight honey—"

"Shoo." Hayes waved a hand as if dismissing a stray dog.

They then both offered to walk me out. I wasn't ashamed to admit that I enjoyed having the critics either side of me. I watched at Hayes and Alex bickered furiously, which meant they were close. If Hayes didn't like you, he simply wouldn't bother speaking with you. That would be a waste of his precious mental energy. Arguing was a good sign.

I knew a fellow gossip when he saw one. Alex Moore looked like the type who would reveal someone's entire life story if you just complimented his scarf. Now... how did one get chatting to the fashion critic alone? I needed more information on Hayes and Freddie's strange, quasi-falling out... and it didn't hurt that an attractive person may be the one dishing said information out.

"Mr Moore!"

Alex scowled as a receptionist practically ran towards him, "If that's Halston, tell him I'm not here." He whispered furiously.

The receptionist paused in her tracks as the telephone chord reached its limit, cupped the speaker and whispered: "I already told him you were here."

Alex rolled his eyes before he snatched the phone away from the girl who immediately scurried back behind her desk after a glance from Hayes. "H, hello dear."

"Roy Halston?" I whispered toward Hayes.

"Mhm," Hayes hummed distastefully, "Have you heard of him?"

"I've heard the name." I murmured.

I was sure that Freddie had thrown out the name once or twice through an association with Liza Minnelli. Aside from that I had the vague notion that the Halston name was a big one in the fashion world, and in the New York clubbing department.

"I'm sorry Halston," Alex sighed deeply, "I simply can't go to dinner, Hayes has already called dibs..." Hayes narrowed his eyes at that, clearly he wasn't about to go out with his colleague. "Yes, yes, the pretty one... What do you bloody mean Victor is here!?"

"Alex, hello darling."

Alex was startled enough to drop the phone and it whacked against the receptionist's desk with a loud rattle. We all turned to find a very attractive man with a smarmy grin twitching about on his handsome face as the receptionist scrambled to pick the phone up.

"Halston sent me to come get you," Victor purred, "He's upset, he thinks you've been avoiding him."

"Avoiding him?" Alex placed a hand to his chest, "Never. I simply have plans with Hayes here. You've met him."

"No," Hayes smiled blandly, "That's tomorrow, you go ahead! Have fun." He patted my shoulder, "Goodbye Peter, gave a safe flight."

With that, Hayes turned on his heel, and gracefully made his exit. Victor stared appreciatively after him before he arched a brow in the fashion critic's direction. Alex's mouth dropped open at the betrayal before he attempted to fix his expression into something cool and collected.

"Did I say I had plans with Hayes? I meant Peter. My dear friend Peter." Alex threw me a grin that had him immediately flustered.

Victor sighed deeply, "I don't really care, you can deal with Halston, I've done my part." He then cracked a self-satisfied smile, "Maybe you'll get Hayes to come out with you some night."

As if.

"Oh I'm sure he'll love that." Alex flashed a false grin and dragged me off after him.

"You are so much better in a crisis than Hayes," Alex huffed, "That eejit loves to watch people crash and burn." He then bitched about Hayes for a solid three minutes before ending it with an "I love him to bits though."

Yes... Alex Moore was definitely a man who dished the dirt. I had now somehow found myself alone in a canteen with the man, without even having to try. It was all coming together nicely.

Alex cracked a pearly white smile, "Sorry about that, can I offer you some tea?"

Yes. Yes you certainly can. "That would be lovely, thank you."

***

Munich

I walked towards Freddie's bedroom, cup of Earl Grey tea in hand, and a local lifestyle paper tucked under my arm. It was the usual morning routine whenever Freddie was actually in the apartment.

The paper had been sent over by Freddie's friend Winnie, who was keen to show Freddie the Brienner Quartier: the sophisticated shopping and culture quarter in Munich. Winnie had barely a word of English, and I didn't think he understood that Freddie was off the market. It seemed to me that Freddie didn't mind the Austrian's infatuation with him all that much. Nice little confidence boost I suppose, and it was all harmless.

I creaked the door open. Usually I would knock, but I trusted that I would find no unwanted guests in Freddie's bed... and I also just forgot. Freddie was sitting up against the headboard, looking as though he had literally just woken up. The rockstar rubbed at the corner of his eye as a deep yawn escaped him. His recently cropped hair was tossed about thoroughly.

"Morning Freddie..." I trailed off once he saw the unidentifiable figure beside him in the bed.

"Morning." Freddie whispered innocently and rubbed at his bare chest.

I simply could not comprehend what was happening. Surely Freddie's wasn't stupid enough to throw everything away with Hayes on some quick shag. Freddie was a twit, but he wasn't that much of a twit. Or maybe he was, maybe Freddie had simply lost it.

According to Alex, Hayes had simply shut down and practically holed himself into his office everyday. He also dropped a hint or two towards the fact he often heard Hayes arguing with Freddie over the phone. Which was interesting, I thought they weren't speaking. They were, it just never ended on a good note. Hayes seemed to be completely cracking down on how open him and Freddie could be, and at first Freddie was in agreement, but was slowly growing irritated with Hayes' almost crippling paranoia. Freddie insisted that he couldn't just hide away forever, but whatever had happened with Hayes made him feel that hiding was entirely necessary.

But still... cheating!?

"What's this!?" I hissed under my breath.

Freddie's brows lifted in surprise, "Huh?"

"I'm not hiding this from Hayes!" I drew my line in the sand with a defiant lift of my chin. "You can't expect me to." If it were anyone else, I wouldn't give a shit, but this was my Hayes.

Freddie rolled his eyes in a rather thunderous way and slipped the duvet down to reveal Hayes' bare back. Oh. My eyes accidentally snagged at the base of Hayes' spine, where the duvet only barely concealed what lay beneath those dimples. All of a sudden, I was extremely dehydrated. My face burned, and I quickly took a sip of the only nearby liquid as if that would help matters. I may have forgotten that it was Freddie's tea I was clutching.

"Hey!" Freddie hissed, "That's mine and—" his eyes widened as he realised where my gaze and mind had gone. He rapidly yanked the covers back over Hayes' head. "—That's mine too! What do you think you're looking at!?"

Hayes obviously woke up at the sudden suffocation. There was a brief struggle under the covers as Hayes sought to free himself. I was floundering about the place but ultimately didn't end up fleeing like I should have. I wasn't expecting him! It's not my fault. I offered Freddie his tea back before realising I had gulped down at least half of it. I  instead just placed it on the bedside table. Freddie was waving me off furiously when Hayes eventually resurfaced.

Hayes' raven coloured hair was tossed about in every direction, and he was squinting furiously. His eyes were extra bleary in the morning. I only found out later that Hayes was also sporting an intense hangover, which was making this wake up call particularly awful.

The last thing I needed right now was to hear Hayes' rough morning voice, but here we are. "What's going on?"

"Phoebe thought you may put on a little show for him darling." Freddie joked and affectionately reached over to brush down Hayes' hair.

This is brilliant! All couples struggle with distance, I knew they'd be fine if they just saw each other. All of which flitted through my mind after I attempted to stutter an apology out towards Hayes.

Everything was going perfectly that morning... well, until it wasn't. Freddie insisted I cook Hayes up some breakfast and I obliged because he was still looking a little gaunt. Thankfully, he was no longer quite so blank, and brief flashes of humour seemed to escape him once again. So I busied myself in the kitchen as the pair got dressed and woke themselves up a little further.

As I said, Hayes and Freddie seemed to be getting over that hill, but within a brief window they seemed to trip and fall down a sharp ledge.

"I know that we need to be secretive Hayes, you don't need to keep saying it." Freddie said, not sounding entirely impatient, but he wasn't exactly patient either, "I understand, but we also need to be able to live our lives."

"You do Freddie," Hayes said in a tone that I was unable to decipher without being able to see his expression, "You get to live your life, no matter what you bloody do. There's never any consequences for beloved musicians are there? After a few days of scandal you'd be a bloody hero!"

Alright, I need to turn on television or the radio. This is going to turn ugly fast and I need to drown it out.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Freddie snapped as I fumbled with the wireless.

"You get to have your cake and eat it," Hayes simmered, "I'm the only one who ever has to make any bloody sacrifices. I lose my job if I'm found out, my reputation, I've already lost my family—"

"— the sooner you realise that you never had that fucking family in the first place, the better."

There was a thick, tense, silence. I finally wrestled the radio on, and could have face palmed once I realised that one of Hayes' most hated songs was playing. Freddie thought Boy George was brilliant, whereas Hayes thought his popularity only came from his shock value. That had been a playful argument in itself, but now the Culture Club track was becoming the soundtrack to a truly horrid fight.

"I'm sorry Hayes, I didn't—"

"You can't always say things that you know are going to fucking hurt and immediately apologise after." There was the sound of a door flinging open, "Just keep your mouth shut in the first place."

The door slammed shut, signifying Freddie followed after him. "So what? I'm not allowed to defend myself when you completely lose it out of nowhere?"

"It's not out of nowhere!?" Hayes sounded on the verge of shouting, and that didn't seem like a point Hayes Griffith would ever get to, "You have always put so much pressure on me to be out, to have me okay with you telling everyone about us. I let you push me, but I want to pull back just for a little after everything that's happened. Do you not know how to bloody compromise!?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous!"

"You fucking slept with somebody else, just so you could force me into being alright with you flashing me off to your friends—"

"—why the fuck are you bringing that up!?"

"Karma, karma, karma, karma, karma chameleon
You come and go, you come and go!" I turned the radio up as the couple crept closer, soon they would be in the living room.

"Because you don't understand what I'm going through, and you never will because your Freddie fucking Mercury! Everyone bloody knows your gay, or at least bisexual, and the most you'll ever get is a few trashy articles, you'll never lose everything for it!"

"I'll lose fans—"

"I can't even see my nieces and nephews because I'm a bloody 'danger' to them. Oliver is threatening to phone up my boss and make him aware that I'm gay. So for the love of god stop saying you understand when you don't!"

I eyed the heavy bread box on the counter and considered sliding it so that it would fall on my foot. Surely that would get me out of here. A broken foot would be a small price to pay for freedom.

I knew what happened next would depend on if Freddie recognised that Hayes was a trembling raw nerve right now and comforted him, or if he ignored that and retaliated.

"Did you not see the backlash I had for the moustache? For Hot Space?"

Oh. Well. That was an... interesting direction to take things Freddie.

"You're comparing your fans disliking a choice in facial hair, and disliking an awful disco record... to everything I just said?" Hayes laughed with disbelief.

"You're right, it's not the same but—"

"You've always put so much pressure on me Freddie, to accept myself, to be as public as possible, but you never practice what your preach. All I ever see in the tabloids is about you and your girlfriend, yet if I were to even think about having such an arrangement, you would accuse me of being ashamed of myself! You can have a full on beard, but I can't keep things under wraps for a while?"

I liked Barbara, I did, but I often caught her stirring the pot with Freddie and Hayes, especially when Hayes was not there to defend himself. Even on the first night they met she had purposefully wound him up with jokes hinting that her and Freddie were sleeping together.

"Barbara is a friend! Don't fucking call her that. I can't help if people put us together as a couple!"

"Of course you can, you can say there's nothing happening. Instead you tell everyone that'll listen that you're shagging anything with a pulse, which includes her. Don't bloody lecture me on hiding myself when you're going to great lengths to hide away with a woman, who I can't even get a fucking direct answer to whether you've slept with her not!"

"I haven't fucking shagged her!" Freddie snarled, "Or anyone else! You're being insane!"

"What? You go to a club every night and hold hands with everyone you meet? At least give me a convincing cover story sweetheart."

"I can't deal with you when you're like this!"

Hayes strode past the kitchen, so I whirled around to stare at the opposite wall. "Leave me alone."

"Leave you alone!?" Freddie charged by, "I'm apparently a cheating hypocrite, and you won't give me a chance to speak!"

"You're always bloody speaking! I can barely hear myself think. Everything is you, you, sodding you!" Hayes exclaimed and now he was heading toward the front door. "Who cares what I'm comfortable with, we all have to move at your pace or we're left behind!"

Freddie's jaw slacked open before he stormed after him. I found himself... accidentally... peaking my head out into the hallway, where things seemed to have reached boiling point.

Hayes flung open the door, where of course Barbara was standing, all dolled up, with her fist raised mid knock. The timing of that couldn't have been any worse. They exchanged a brief stare. Hayes' expression was full of irritation whilst Barbara was merely curious. Hayes stepped past her with a bland smile, before he tipped his head to the side to address Freddie with a throwaway comment.

"Your beard is coming in so nicely Fred."

Freddie visibly short circuited as Hayes left, before he finally managed to hiss "that little bitch," and swept past Barbara to chase after him.

That hill I mentioned Freddie and Hayes were trying to get over earlier? Forget that. It seems to have turned into a mountain.

_____

A/N—

Hope you enjoyed! I hope the next chapter will be a little better ahah x