F.M
Munich, Germany
February 4th

"You must be tired love."

I was shattered, and Hayes' soft spoken words only served to lull me further. I adored the contradictions and contrasts of Hayes' voice, and when my eyes were closed, I could savour them even more. It was raspy and deep but velvety and gentle all at once. I just bloody wish that I could hear it directly in my ear instead of through the sodding phone speaker. I was growing sick of all the excuses he had at the ready to avoid making that a reality.

"Forget me," I murmured, "It's morning here, I really should be getting up. You're the one not sleeping dear. It must be late there."

"It's the only time I'm able to catch you." Hayes chuckled. 

Although he was making an innocent comment, it seemed to rub me up the wrong way. It insinuated that he was the one always making the effort... and it ruffled my feathers because there was some truth in it lately. We hadn't seen each other since our last big blow up in Munich, but we had hastily patched things up on the phone a day or two later. Or we at least pretended that things were fine, I'm just taking a page from Hayes' closed book.

At my silence, Hayes quickly sought to fill up the space, "I did catch a couple of hours sleep the last few days, I'm just wide awake now because I had a kip on the plane."

I slowly sat up, rapidly irritated, "Plane? Where were you?"

"England, I told you that—"

"So you'll go to England, but you won't fly over here?" Oh fuck off Freddie, leave him alone.

"I told you the situation with my parents, it was just one visit." Hayes sighed, and he sounded so unbearably weary. "It won't be happening again."

Hayes had told me the basics of what happened with his family on Christmas Eve. He didn't go into much detail (I suspected he physically couldn't), but from what he told me, it was fucking awful. I knew that we had been caught out, that there was photographic evidence of us, and that it was now thankfully destroyed. Despite of all of what his family put him through that day... he attempted to defend them. Which I couldn't fucking stand.

His mother's reaction? Oh she's always been a hypochondriac, and she was upset that she may not get any grandchildren. His brother? He's always been that way, it's fine. His father? His absolutely awful father? I think he's finally making an effort with me now. I know it's not ideal, but he's been phoning me a lot lately. They all just need to get used to it and it'll be fine.

Hayes was so fucking traumatised by that lot, he thought that this was all okay because at least they were showing him some interest. Now, it's quite obvious that deep down Hayes knew that this wasn't how he should be treated, but he's buried himself in deep denial to save face. I know it's his way of coping, but it's making things quite difficult between us.

I want to help him, but he refuses to let me. The more I push, the more he shirks away. The distance is bloody awful right now.

Hayes didn't want to be seen with me at all, and I knew why... but he was being over cautious at this point. Fair enough, the English press were fuckers, but we were safe in New York and Munich. Part of me felt as though he just didn't want to see me, a rather large part of me actually. Hearing that he had been to England only seemed to prove my paranoid thoughts right.

"I saw Julian," Hayes attempted to change the subject, "I had been meaning to for a while..."

Lovely. I'm sure Julian was more fucking useful than me. He must be when you have no problem spending time with him but won't come to Munich.

"He was asking for you." Hayes murmured, and I could hear it in his tone that he hoped I would be nice. He wanted Jules and I to get along, but I couldn't help but feel threatened by him. Maybe I should be less of a tart to Petula if this is how I make him feel towards my relationship with Mary.

"Was he?" I forced myself to sound flattered, "That's nice."

Yes, I'm delighted that Hayes has a close friend, but when that friend has literally confessed his love to Hayes in the past, and I'm on the other side of the world, I'm allowed to occasionally worry about the two of them spending time with each other. Julian bloody had the same upbringing as Hayes so he would probably an expert at comforting him. Hayes may even fucking open up to him, because he certainly won't do so with me. All I seem to do is make him bloody flee and shut down. Yes, years of living together probably had Julian completely in tune to Hayes in a way I couldn't be, because we've never spent more than a fucking week straight together.

A slow exhale crackled through the line, "What's wrong Freddie?"

"You missed the launch party for the single." I blurted out the latest point of contention between us. "You said you'd try—"

"—try. Yes." Hayes snipped and I could just tell he was about to be a right smart arse "Do you know what try means? Attempt. Do one's utmost—"

"Piss off," I rubbed at my throbbing temple, "I know what it bloody means. But you didn't do your utmost. You didn't even try." Yet you'll pop over to England for your family and Julian Wright.

"There would've been press lingering about for a party like that." Hayes said slowly, as if I were stupid. "We can't be seen together for a while."

"You came over to Munich a few weeks ago—"

"That was before you found yourself in German tabloids every night. It's funny how the press seem to know exactly where you are every night considering you claim the German paparazzi are much less involved."

"Oh for fuck sake Hayes, I'm always going to be in the tabloids, are we just never going to see each other as long as I'm a person of interest?" I snapped, "And they think I'm with Barbara here, as you've pointed out several times, so you're safe to be seen with me."

"Because me being seen club hopping with you, a stag film star, and your questionable friends will look really bloody good won't it?" Hayes asked coldly, "That's really how I want to spend my time."

I fucking hate that sneery tone.

"I was wondering why you haven't just cut off your family yet, but you're every bit of a judgmental prick as them aren't you? You'll need to stick together."

The line immediately went dead, which was fair because I had pushed way too fucking far. I couldn't really be nasty by half, if I was going to do it, I was going to do it properly. Brilliant Freddie.

The second I remembered Hayes' face on Christmas Eve, and how he could scarcely breathe on Boxing Day, I was fumbling for the phone again.

Yes, I know that I'm handling all of this awfully, you don't have to fucking shake your heads at me like that.

I had to give up on the fifth attempt at ringing Hayes because it was time to head for the studio, but I would need to try him again later. I couldn't let such a thing fester. Hopefully he was sleeping now at least, he had been having trouble with it lately. Perhaps he could invite Julian over and they could cuddle up like the good old days.

What the hell is going to happen on tour if we're like this now?

I shook my head of the paranoid thoughts that began to pierce my mind and hopped into the shower in an attempt to refresh myself. My routine was fairly rigid lately, and the days were blurring together in a banal swirl of music and alcohol. I woke up, hungover, headed to the studio to lay down some vocals or instrumentals, then made my way to a club or party with my Munich entourage. The cycle started again everyday with a shower, and if I was lucky, a phone call from Hayes.

They were getting rarer, which only fuelled my bad habits.

February 9th

All four members of Queen didn't run into each other much since after the holidays. We sort of did our own thing, left instructions for the others, and then came together for the final production of a  song. That's not to say we all can't stand the sight of each other or anything like that, we're all just doing our own thing. It's sort of been the formula since the Game, and is probably the only reason one of us haven't killed each other yet.

Roger insisted I join him today for a song that was rather special effect heavy. I think that he originally sang on it, but wanted to see how my voice would fare on the track. I'm surprised he asked me, Blondie needs at least one song per album to prove that he is in fact a vocalist too.

I was expecting just Roger, but didn't kick up a fuss when Brian and John were also sitting there. Brian and Roger were both bent over the mixing desk, speaking in tongues whilst John was laid back in a chair, looking rather bored. He offered me a small wave and I flashed him a grin, but found the expression to be a huge strain.

I was doing my best to keep my personal life from leaking into my professional, but it was proving rather difficult this time around. I wasn't in the most happy of places.

"Did you know Elton is getting married?"

My head snapped towards Roger with interest and shock, "Sharon?"

"Yeah, it's fucking crazy..." Roger shook his head, "I didn't even think him and Reid were split up."

"He proposed apparently," John added, "It's everywhere. Did he say anything to you Fred?"

I merely echoed Roger's slowly shaking head, "No. I know he loves that girl, but I didn't think it was in that way... I can't see him going through with it."

The world had officially gone mad.

"I suppose there's no truth in the rumour that you've popped the question to that German actress?"

Scratch that, the world has gone fucking insane.

It took me a moment to realise that Brian was speaking to me. My lips smacked together unable to form a response because I was so shocked. Bloody hell of course I'm not getting married, and they know I'm with Hayes.

"Of course I haven't proposed!" I exclaimed, "Where did you hear that?"

"I saw it in Bild." Brian replied.

"Bild? I saw it in that trashy Munich gossip tabloid, the one you're in everyday." Roger popped out helpfully. "Can't think of the name."

Obviously I looked rather pissed off as I tried to figure out where the tabloids would get such a ridiculous notion from because Roger kept going in an attempt to soothe me.

"I prefer Hayes, but like, whatever you want Fred." Roger rubbed at his shoulder, "You two haven't split have you?"

The way Roger quite regularly flustered over Hayes, I couldn't tell if he was asking as my friend or as someone who wanted to see if Hayes was bloody available again. One day he commented that Hayes had a rather nice cologne, without being prompted, we were just bloody having a drink in the studio. What am I meant to do with that?

I opened my mouth to snap 'of course we haven't split' but Brian cut in, wanting to keep us on a working path "Did Rog tell you about his daft idea for John's single?"

"No." Roger flashed me an impish grin, and I couldn't help but return the expression in anticipation for whatever he was about to say, "What is it?"

"He wants us to dress as women." John mumbled, "Like we're in a bloody pantomime."

Alright. Someone needs to pull Roger aside at this stage and ask him what's going on. Blushing over Hayes, wanting to dress as a woman, what's next? As it is I've only bloody done the former.

"I just wanted to dress you and I up as slags Freddie," Roger laughed, "The other two would be old biddies of course, they couldn't pull it off."

Brian and John grumbled at that, proving Rog's casting was quite accurate. "I was thinking of having it like an episode of Coronation Street. You'd be Bet Lynch of course."

"Of course darling," I cackled at that, "I already have all her frocks."

They all laughed at that, but of course Brian brought us back to earth after a minute. "We'll worry about the video after, Roger and I think this Machines song needs your vocal on it Fred."

"Think the album can finally be wrapped when we have it finished." Roger nodded and searched about in a few loose pages before he finally found the lyrics he was searching for. "You'll know what to do with it I'm sure."

The album was a fairly solid piece of work, it had all the echoes of our old material but with our eighties twist on it. Maybe it was a little safe after Hot Space, but there were some cracking good tunes on it. Still, I felt it was lacking a key element, it didn't have any piano driven ballad. I suppose 'Keep Passing the Open Windows' came close, but that was uplifting rather than a somber contribution.

I suppose not every album needed a hopelessly romantic song. It seemed I didn't have it in me this time around to write a desolate song, I couldn't put myself in the mindset since I was with Hayes. Well I could in the past few weeks, but I wasn't prepared to share the lyrics of my messy and angry draft of a song I coined 'It's A Hard Life'.

I glanced down at the lyrics of Roger's song, "A parahuman- humanoid— what the fuck is this?"

"Parahumanoidarianised." Brian said simply. "I made it up. It means—"

"You expect me to sing that after 'self-perpetuating'?" I asked, knowing I wouldn't be able to rest until I had this impossible line down, "No wonder you didn't have Roger singing it."

"Fuck off," Roger snapped, "I could have sang it but your voice suits the song better."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself honey."

"All I'm saying is that the song could have been on Hot Space because it sounds exactly like the 'noise' you both claimed wasn't rock and roll." John began to grumble under his breath which had the Taylor-May pairing on his back in an instant.

"John!" I exclaimed mockingly, "Don't insult them like that, they're clearly being ironic and clever. Brian's even made up a word for the occasion, the Oxford dictionary and NASA will be contacting him any day now—"

"Oh piss of Freddie and just sing the track so we can get home."

"Put it on after 'Calling All Girls' and tell me it's not a Hot Space reject." John challenged them and I couldn't help but laugh.

I spent the evening having a laugh and recording with the boys, and it was the best I had felt since recording the video for Radio Gaga. I didn't need to spoil the sunny feeling by going out to Henderson's to get trollied, but I did.

***

"Dorothy is missing you." Patrick declared as he plonked a double vodka tonic in front of me.

"We can barely keep her consoled," The Irishman's Dutch boyfriend, Polder, sighed and carefully separated out equal lines of white powder along the back of Barbara's purse. Clearly I couldn't have picked better foster parents.

"I'll pop around tomorrow then." I murmured dismissively.

That's when I should have noticed something was wrong with me, I wasn't more worried about the child I had sent off to be minded by other men.

"Drop by the restaurant first, Winnie has been pining about the place for you." Polder rolled his eyes, "He even has been asking me to help him with his English."

I didn't quite know what to make of that, but couldn't help but find it just a little sweet. Fucking sue me if you'd like, but that is nice. Misguided but nice. A friend with a harmless crush on me attempts to speak another language but Hayes can't even catch a flight over to Munich. No, don't go down that bloody road.

"Love sick eejit." Patrick scoffed, "Wouldn't catch me learning another language for anybody."

"Of course not," Polder rolled his eyes, "The Irish are the least romantic creatures I have ever come across."

"No you're thinking of Northern Ireland— see the likes of Prenter?"

"Piss off." Paul grumbled before leaning his head over the table to sniff up a line of coke.

Patrick and Polder cackled amongst themselves before the heavy petting started. Oh bloody hell. I attempted to move as far away as possible from the young couple until I was thigh to thigh with Barbara. My god, poor Dorothy better not be subjected to that all the time.

"I miss Winnie, where is he?" Barbara asked with a glum pout.

"He actually has a job," Polder broke away from Patrick for a moment, "So he's finishing up there." Polder grinned before his bright blue eyes met mine, "More importantly where's lover boy?"

"Nice arse? Yes where's he?" Patrick asked innocently which received him a smack on the head from Polder.

I stiffened before finishing off my drink, "New York."

"Where he always is." Barbara noted, clearly attempting to stir the pot. It was harmless teasing really.

"He barely visits Fred anymore." Paul chimed in. Harmless teasing.

"Ara," Patrick shrugged, "He isn't some sponger like the rest of ye," he said jokingly, "He actually has a job and his own life. The likes of Hayes can't just drop everything to get pissed every night like all of us."

Patrick and Hayes had gotten along immediately, and the Irishman did everything in his power to make Hayes comfortable when he met the entire Munich group for the first time. Right now though, I didn't need the reminder of Hayes and his independent ways, so I just needed Patrick to be quiet.

In the past, I have always had the luxury of my partners just dropping everything to join me wherever I was. If someone couldn't join me on tour, or whilst I was recording, well that was it. My lifestyle didn't allow for long distance relationships. Hayes was the exception of course because I couldn't expect him to just drop everything to become some glorified groupie. This was a real relationship, and my views were all different.

Until recently, I really wasn't struggling with the distance. Before, my only issue was missing Hayes and worrying about the next time that I would see him, but he was always in my mind in a positive way. Lately, I felt as though I was preparing for the end with Hayes. Every time he avoided me, or fought against me, I thought that Hayes was one step closer towards ending things. It didn't seem like he needed me at all, and I wasn't assured of anything to the contrary. Now whenever I thought of Hayes, negative connotations seemed to attach themselves to him.

So I had to do my very best to shove such thoughts away by any means necessary.

Just as I had lifted my head up from taking a line of coke, Winnie appeared with his friend Hans (or Miss Sinderlla if she were in drag). I scratched at my nostril, and let the rush take over. My eyes snagged on Winnie who offered me a small smile. Bloody hell the man was exactly what I usually looked for; dark featured, big and bulky. If I weren't in a relationship we would've fucked several times over by now.

Nope. That's not a thought I'm allowed to have. Even though a shag is nothing. Just a mechanical act that gets me off. I can equate it to a bloody hole in the wall if I want, doesn't mean I don't love Hayes if I—

No. That's enough of that thinking thank you very much.

"Barbara, let's go for a dance." I exclaimed and tugged restlessly at her arm. "I can't keep bloody sitting here, I'll explode."

"Winnie just got here—"

"And? I don't give a shit, let's go!"

Winnie smiled and attempted to instigate a conversation with me as I desperately tried to pass by him.  Barbara had to stand there and relay what we said to one another. I fear a lot of our conversations got lost in translation, whether Barbara did that on purpose or not, I don't know. All I know is that I've told her several times to inform the man that I'm off the market, and he never seems to fully grasp that.

Not that it's ever stopped me from playing around before, but I knew what I had with Hayes was something proper, so I couldn't go around fucking it up. Now that I was fucking it up, my resolve to not shag anyone else was getting a little weaker every night as I returned home to an empty bed. Look, I'm a person who loves physical affection, and I'm being bloody starved of it. I'm allowed to have a sulk.

I just bloody miss sex right now, and it would be nice if I could go off for a few minutes of affection from another human being because I certainly wasn't getting anything from Hayes. Which you know isn't his fucking fault so quit with the self pity you plonker.

I couldn't even count the number of drinks I had that particular night, but it was enough for me to be proud of the fact I had managed to tell Winnie N-O when he tried to convince me to go home with him. Now, I'm not going to pin all of this flirtation on Winnie, because I was half encouraging of his advances. It was nice to be wanted for a few hours, and to be touched, but nothing ever happens in the end.

Don't get your knickers in a twist. I behaved, and would continue to do so, no matter how bloody difficult it was becoming.

I'm certainly happy I didn't have any other man in my bed that next morning because Hayes rang me quite early with a newfound good attitude. He sounded like his old self which I had missed.

"I finally watched it Freddie."

"Watched what?" I frowned.

"Radio Gaga." Gawh-Gawh. Hayes' tone was thoroughly neutral through the crackle of the phone's speaker, "I saw the music video."

About bloody time. My finger twisted around the chord nervously, "And?"

"Hm." Hayes mused, "Well, you know, I'm not a film critic Freddie. So this is not a professional opinion, I want you to bear that in mind."

I snorted a small sound of disbelief, "That's alright dear."

"Well, I got rather distracted by that clip with you and the clock— was it a clock? Anyway I don't remember much of the rest of it." Hayes explained in a mockingly serious tone, "So I quite liked that, the rest was forgettable, but I'm sure that's no reflection on the video, I just had tunnel vision."

It had been so long since Hayes had being teasing, and upbeat that it took me a moment to recognise that he was joking. Lately we couldn't do so without somehow managing to twist it into a fight. Perhaps tonight is the night.

"Are you flirting with me?" I gasped dramatically, "How very improper of you."

A loud tsk, "Hope you kept the outfit."

"For fuck sake," I laughed, caught off guard, "Wasn't much of an outfit, just a scrap of red fabric."

"Exactly." I could picture the frown he would feign as he said it, "What's not to love?"

Ah attention at last. Brilliant. "So I didn't look fat? I think that bloody camera added about sixty pounds this time around. I attempted to attend a gym the other day but I was bored senseless—"

"Oh for fuck sake Freddie," Hayes scoffed, "You looked fit— in every sense of the word. Do you need me to read you some synonyms from my leather bound thesaurus for a quick reminder?"

There he is. A stupid grin twitched at my lips, "You can't talk dirty to me like that when you're so far away darling. What am I meant to do?"

"You've two hands, pick a favourite."

"You're far too bloody cheeky today," a bout of laughter escaped me, "What's going on?"

"Nothing..." Hayes chuckled gently and a comfortable silence fell over us for a fleeting moment.

"I just," Hayes exhaled slowly, "I feel a little better now Freddie. A lot better actually."

"You do?" I asked hopefully, "Really? That's fantastic Hayes."

"I'm sorry that I have been so distant, and moody, and a right terror really—"

"No! No. You haven't been." I sat up quickly despite of my swimming head, "Well, maybe a little, but anyone would have been in your shoes. I should have been there much more Hayes."

Neither of us could get a proper bloody word in with all of the apologies thrown at each other. It was the most we have talked since Christmas, and I really didn't want the call to end. Hayes had even asked me out to London but I had to decline which was fairly irritating but then he offered to fly out to Munich. He was finally coming over, and my month of sulking seemed to be an embarrassing distant memory.

Hayes would be physically here, with me, and I was definitely going to make the most of it.

February 12th

Phoebe had returned back to my hotel suite after a much deserved week off with a copy of the Daily Mail tucked under his arm.

It was late at night, and my assistant excused himself for being shattered after his flight back from England. Yes, I had stayed in the last few nights, well I had not being going to nightclubs which was basically the same thing as not going out. I ended up in bars, but headed back to the suite before the festivities could ever really begin. Part of me felt guilty for my recent nightly activities, but the other half of me felt I was looking a little rough after a month of no sleep. I needed to be fresh faced for Mr Griffith. All of which meant I was being an early bird for the past week.

I eyed the tabloid on the table, which Phoebe had told me to take a look at. I almost laughed at the sight of Hayes taking up real estate on one of the pages reserved for the more upper class gossip.

Internal Affairs: Hayes Griffith steps out with Home Secretary's daughter, Audrey Wright. There was Hayes with Julian's sister, the gorgeous artist, practically nose to nose with each other in a booth. Hayes' arm was draped about the back of the seat, Audrey hand was on his knee. She was mid sentence, and Hayes was mid nod. It was intimate, and candid, and if I were a stranger glancing over the article, I would have assumed they were an item.

A sudden and surprising sense of bitterness seized me once I glanced at the photograph of the two. It wasn't jealousy in the sense that I thought Hayes was going to run off with the girl, it was more because they could be photographed together, and the reaction of the public wouldn't be complete and utter disgust.

I was never going to be a fucking activist, not for anything. All that was too heavy for me, I was just a musician. I'll donate to charity, I'll write the odd song that'll make people happy, but I was never going to be that loud figure telling everyone what to do. I got on with things, and lived how I wanted to live. It wasn't my place to stand up and demand that everyone do this and that. Right now though, I was frustrated that I couldn't even be seen with the person I loved. I wanted to stand up and tell everybody to let everyone shag, date, marry, whoever they fucking wanted to. Who cares? Why are we all so bloody excited about these things?

I was private, so I didn't want to be splashed about the papers with whoever I was dating. It was inevitable of course that it would happen. Mary was snapped with me often, and that was all fine. Being snapped with Barbara raised some brows, and had tongues wagging. I'm sure some of it was nasty, but it was all manageable.

One photo with Hayes, a photo that wasn't even made public, had caused us so much fucking destruction... just because we were two men. It wasn't fair. Not at all. I had to hide being with the person I loved, not to preserve anonymity like most celebrity relationships, but because he was a man and the backlash would be vicious.

If one of us were a woman, it would be hilarious, a musician and a critic falling for one another. Bloody romantic and adorable. One a wild rocker, the other a reserved writer. It would be eaten up by the media, and in a good way. Yet, the entire story of us would be turned on it's head just because it's a same sex couple. It would be perverse, disgusting, and wrong.

Not the fairest world we bloody live in is it? It shouldn't be so fucking difficult for two people, who simply love each other, to be together.

To be true lovers together, to love and live forever...

No! No. I will not be singing a fucking song about rights. Who do I think I am, Bono? Pete Townshend?  Brian May could come out with a song about animal rights any day now, but I'm not about to sing a song about how difficult it is for gay men.

Of course I could just disguise it with the lyrics of a song that flowed about in my mind when Hayes and I had that bitter fight on the phone a few weeks ago. I rather fancied the idea of hiding a secret message in a song, of having one with some depth like my earlier work.

You try and and mend the broken pieces, I try and fight back the tears. You say it's just a state of mind, and it happens to everyone.

My mind was awash with a clash of melodies and lyrics, and I knew I needed to get down to the sodding studio right away or I'd lose momentum. I didn't bloody care if it was too late to put on the album, I was going to make it happen.

In a world that's filled with sorrow, there are people searching for love in different ways.

The Queen boys were ripping with annoyance when I demanded they all join me in the studio at 3am, but once they heard the songs I shut them right up. Brian even admitted that it may be his favourite song that I'd ever written.

To get it on an album that was already gearing up for production may prove difficult but I'm sure we could all bat our pretty eyes up at Miami to make 'It's A Hard Life' appear on the The Works.

Jim Beach was like a briar when we had to move the release date for the Works, but he enjoyed the song himself, so I think the anger was all for show. Hayes appeared rather amused by my tale, even when I declined to explain what the song was about. He was a rare journalist that didn't expect me to sit down and explain a song lyric by lyric to him. Hayes liked having his own interpretations, and often time I have noticed musicians actually agree with his definitions of lyrics because he made them sound a lot more complicated and deep than they often were.

The lads and I went out for the dinner the next night in order to celebrate yet another record finished. Chrissie, Veronica, and Dominique were all there, and I was a bit iffed Hayes wasn't, even when I hadn't asked him. I never would usually dream of inviting a partner to such a party with the exception of Mary, but Hayes was missed... especially by the ladies and I.

The Queen boys were more concerned about whether or not Hayes would be reviewing the new album. I assured them that Hayes was much too 'ethical' to do such a thing... I couldn't promise Roger that his solo album would be off limits though.

The next couple of days dragged their heels as I impatiently waited to see my scary critic. When Thursday finally arrived, I was practically bouncing off the walls. I was driving Phoebe insane, and I think he wished he had waited until now to take his week off. I was fussing about how the suite looked, and how I looked because it all needed to be perfect.

"I have put on weight."

Phoebe, who was just trying to eat his dinner, sighed deeply. "You haven't."

"The Sun used a photo of me from Milton Keynes for their most recent article, and I certainly don't look like that anymore." I grumbled, "One tabloid called me Freddie the Fatty you know."

Phoebe who was clearly very much done with me at that moment, slowly put his fork down. Of course, it was insensitive of me to say all this when Phoebe was quite literally twice the size of me, but today was all about me so he could lump it.

"There's just more of you for Hayes to love then." He offered with an innocent lift of his brows.

I had to pick my jaw up off of the floor, "You fucking bitch."

With that, I kicked Phoebe out and told him to collect Hayes from the airport because he should be getting in around seven.

The second he left I had my second shower of the day, and spent an unnatural amount of time primping and preening in front of the mirror. Thankfully, the evidence of my wild month seemed to have vanished from under my eyes. I tried on at least eight different shirts, simply because I was being over sensitive about the extra few pounds. A break from touring, and excess alcohol has caused the fabric of my tank tops to bloody stretch. I knew the overdramatic fixation was simply because I was nervous about seeing Hayes again.

I know I hadn't done anything wrong on my nights out, not so much as an involved kiss, but I knew if Hayes had been behaving in the way I did, I would be pissed off. I really did enjoy affection, I couldn't help it, and I enjoyed a good flirt. It's all harmless when it stays innocent, which I have been keeping it. I simply just needed a good dose of Hayes and I would be set right again.

When it reached eight o'clock, I  didn't worry because flights got delayed all the bloody time. So I changed my tank top for a ninth and final time, before I sat myself at the piano and attempted to further window down the clock. The Works was finished, but I still had my solo album to work on. I needed to make some serious progress with it because in a few months I would be on tour, and it would be almost impossible to get any work done.

"You masquerade. You're the catch of the season every night and day. You, you, you don't have any time for me... you just keep fooling around with me."

By the time I had some new concrete lyrics scratched down for one of my solo drafts it was nine o'clock. Two hours was quite late, but again, I attempted to brush it off because anything could have delayed Hayes.

"You want to play, but you always want it all your own way. You got it easy but you don't give a damn... fooling around. You just keep fooling around with me."

It was around ten o'clock when I heard Phoebe open the door. In an attempt to play it cool, I kept my arse planted on the piano stool and finished my current lyrical thought process.

"All you do is keep me hanging around, you're really so hard to please... you've gotta really watch that baby!"

When I heard Phoebe shuffle through the hall and into the living space, I whirled about, unable to hide my smile as I expected to see Hayes. It took me a moment for my eyes to accept the fact that he wasn't there. My gaze flicked over toward Phoebe who nervously shifted about on his heels.

"I'll go back for him if calls Freddie."

"What do you mean? Where's Hayes?" I blinked with confusion.

"Well, I waited about. His flight came in, but he wasn't on it. So, I waited for the next one, he wasn't on that either." Phoebe explained, "Maybe you got the days mixed up."

"No. No I didn't get the days fucking mixed up." I immediately snapped, "So you mean to tell me that Hayes missed not one, but two flights to Munich?"

"I don't know Freddie," Phoebe shrugged, "Don't get upset just yet, have you phoned him today? Maybe something came up, maybe he'll be on the next flight inbound."

"Or," I stood up, barely able to keep my overwhelming feelings of disappointment and rage at bay, "It's just typical of Hayes to back out of something and he's not coming at all."

Phoebe opened his mouth to try and be 'logical' about all of this, but I knew better.

Hayes wasn't coming.

A sick film reel of memories played out in my mind of every time Hayes had retreated, fled, and simply just promised one thing but did another. If I were to play all the examples out on a screen, it would beat Gone With the fucking Wind for running time twice over. He was so bloody unreliable I don't know how I have put up with it for so long.

Hayes Griffith is a fucking flake, always has been, and always will be.

I once told Hayes that I wouldn't wait for him forever, but it's exactly what I have been bloody doing all this time. He knows he can pick me up, keep me at arms length, discard me, whenever he wants and I'll simply put up with it because I can't help but melt with any apology from him.

If Hayes doesn't want to see me, that's fine, I'm not going to mope around in this suite, alone, all night. There are plenty of people who genuinely enjoy my company, and my evening would be better served spending time with them.

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A/N - Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

I have the next chapter already written ahah, so let me know if you'd like it before or after the holidays! For now I'll give you a little breather ahah 🤍