A/N- What a funny picture of Freddie!!
Anyway, happy holidays and hope you all enjoy! 🤍

Munich
February 16th

The rather unimaginatively yet aptly named 'Jeans' was bustling with activity when I slipped through its front door. It was a rather narrow space, one could barely move through it without being pressed up against somebody else, which I suppose was all part of the appeal. Everything was wooden from the floors to the panelling on the walls which created quite the rustic environment. Even the music was stripped back to basics with Elvis rattling away on a jukebox in the corner.

Jeans was rough and ready, and so was its clientele. Which is exactly what I needed.

I craved all things unrefined, primitive and simple right now: the exact opposite of the Right fucking Honourable Hayes Griffith.

I rang up the chirpy Patrick the second I had got away from the hotel suite. He informed me that he was on his way out to meet Polder, and I shoved my way into the couple's plans. I should have been at home, with my own other half, but the twat didn't turn up. I didn't explain that of course, because I didn't want to bloody talk about it. What I needed was a drink, and people around who actually appeared to like spending time with me.

Patrick had made a purposefully awful joke about how difficult it was to get into Jeans when we shuffled our way up to my reliable crew of friends. I forced a laugh his way, because I was going to fake a good mood until it became the reality. I currently felt like trodden on dirt, so I needed to remedy that.

"Freddie! What an unpleasant surprise."

Polder furrowed his fair brows my way. Keeping with the unspoken dress code, he was wearing a matching set of frayed denim jeans and an open denim jacket which revealed his slim physique beneath. He pressed a friendly kiss to my cheek and pulled away only to give me a stern stare.

"What sort of greeting is that Betty?" I gave a soft mocking gasp, "I haven't seen you all week dear." I often called Polder- Betty, after Betty Grable, because I swear he copied her hairstyle from 'How to Marry A Millionaire'.

Patrick chuckled and unlinked himself from me, "I'm sure he meant pleasant."

"No," Polder said firmly as he wrapped an arm around his boyfriend," Unpleasant. You're not meant to be out here. Where's Hayes?"

Fucked if I know. I merely waved a dismissive hand his way, "I'll start a tab, who's going to get me a drink?"

I had left my hotel suite a mere five minutes after I discovered Hayes had flaked. I had to wait for Phoebe to leave me alone for a moment so I could slip out without a babysitter or a lecture of logic. It's quite irritating when I require at least some semblance of security every night. Especially with all the paparazzi who magically knew where I was lately. Peter had suggested that Barbara was tipping them off so that her photo would be in the paper along with me everyday, but I brushed off that theory quickly.

For a brief second I wondered whether being out in such a poor mood would be a good idea if it all gets back to Hayes. Bloody Alex Moore has his nose to the fucking pavement in regards gossip and tabloids, that's the only reason Hayes knows about my popularity in the German press. Hayes wouldn't even know where to bloody pick up a tabloid. Alex Moore remember? The man Hayes called up to help him on Boxing Day when he wouldn't dream of seeing me? Yes him.

I'm on a little spiral if you hadn't noticed, but it's fine.

The happy couple squinted at me as if I'd lost it before Polder sighed loudly in defeat, "Okay, I'll go get the drinks. Be back soon."

As soon as Polder left to go start my tab, Patrick leant over to suggest we take a line in the bathroom. Ella (on account of his last name being Fitzgerald) sat himself up on the countertop of the sink and set about separating out lines of the glorious white powder that would brighten things up for me. Ella and I were not keeping with the dress code so we received a few lingering stares as other men shuffled in and out of the bathroom. I had flung on a pair of red leather trousers before I escaped the hotel suite and shrugged on a vinyl jacket over my new promotional 'The Works' tank top.

"Hope you're not trading in your English gentleman for a local cowboy." Patrick commented as he took out his wallet from his obscenely tight vinyl trousers. "Because only a stupid eejit would dream of messing up—"

"Oh don't be such a bore,"  I cut in, wishing I was with someone who wasn't in the Hayes fan club right now.

Every time I thought of him a fresh wave of fury seemed to crash over me, and I simply wanted to change the tides. Anyone who caused me this much upset and anger in the past, would have been bloody cut off by now. For some reason I allowed Hayes to continue on with his hurtful patterns, and he knew he could bloody get away with it too. Fancy that, a rich toff who has always gotten their way in life.

No. No. Let's forget about that sod for now. I can deal with him later.

Patrick rolled his big blue eyes as he pulled out a Deutschmark banknote. He quickly realised it was a fifty and quickly shoved it back into his wallet. I watched as he finally found the equivalent of a fiver, rolled it up and offered it to me. Some of us couldn't piss away money after all.

I took two lines and waited for my senses to catch fire.

After a brief minute or two, the world and everything in it was infinitely better. When Patrick clapped a hand on my shoulder to usher me along, it felt like the best thing ever. Human contact was bloody brilliant, especially with anything in my system to exacerbate the sensation.

I was face to tit with Barbara the second I stepped out of the bathroom. She let out an excited little screech and hugged me tight. I grinned at the excitable reaction towards me and returned the gesture.

"I have been wondering where my Freddie was!" Barbara exclaimed as if we hadn't seen each other in years when in reality it had been two days. Hayes could quite easily go a month without seeing me and not bat an eyelash.

"I'm getting old dear, I needed a few days off." I chuckled and kept my arm around her waist. My fingers skimmed appreciatively across the silk fabric of her dress.

"Fred's bloody ancient," Patrick pinched at my cheek, "He can't handle his drink anymore. The poor pet doesn't know if he's hungover or going through the manopause."

Polder returned with a few drinks just as I called his boyfriend a cheeky little c—cherub. Polder mockingly got offended on Patrick's behalf before agreeing wholeheartedly and some easy banter ensued.

Thus the process of getting sloshed begun.

For the coming hours, drinks flowed as freely as the laughter, and bodies swayed in various rhythms to rockabilly music. My easy smiles returned, and I forgot all about the tart who had upset me in the first place. Several men approached to give me a nice little ego boost throughout the night and I brushed them off the second they thought they were in with a chance. I accepted the free drinks and compliments with a grin, but that's about all they were getting from me.

It was when we travelled over to the New York Discotheque, simply known as New York, things got really messy. As soon as Patrick suggested heading to the club, my mood took a turn for the wicked and worse. I often fondly called Hayes New York, I spent many a good night with Hayes in New York, and I just couldn't bloody separate Hayes from New York. It would seem Hayes couldn't separate himself from the Big Apple either or else he would be here right now. He's never going to bloody leave that place. All that crap about leaving Rolling Stone one day and joining me to travel? That's exactly what it was a load of fucking shit. He won't move to England, and he won't even fucking visit me in Munich.

Winnie arrived in with a group of his own friends when the rest of us were already a intoxicated mess. At the sight of his friendly face, a smile broke out onto my lips and I waved him over. He crushed me close and a cordial peck of lips was exchanged. We had a rather stilted and brief conversation considering we didn't speak the language and the music was overwhelming. He made a gesture that I assumed meant he was offering to get me a drink and I nodded with a thankful smile.

I continued on dancing between Barbara and the obnoxiously happy couple. The drug and alcohol cocktail in my system had me feeling senseless and oversensitive all at once. I had lost my jacket somewhere along the way but was feeling so flushed that I didn't need it.

A hand clasped over my bare forearm and with the aid of cocaine it felt as though I had been burned. I whirled only to come face to face with Peter Freestone.

"Phoebe, darling!" I cried, "Where have you been!?"

Before I could get a royal telling off for disappearing without security and without a trace, I lapsed and raised an inquisitive brow. Did Hayes turn up? Phoebe's scowl momentarily subsided as he slowly shook his head. Despite of myself, a fresh and painful ripple of disappointment surged through me before I desperately tried to shrug it off. Of course he fucking didn't.

Seeing that I needed the distraction, Phoebe proceeded to give out shit to me. You can't just go out and not tell me where the hell you are! You're Freddie Mercury, you can't go out without security if you're going to get this fucked, meh, meh, meh. Just as I opened my mouth to reply, Winnie reappeared and placed a drink in my hand.

"Thank you dear—Danke!" I laughed and let him rest a burly arm against my back. Phoebe's eyes narrowed for a moment before he was slowly pushed back by dancing bodies.

I sipped the drink Winnie had gotten me, and my eyes blew wide, "Is that a sodding triple?" I already had more than enough, and I've only had bad experiences with triples vodkas.

Winnie frowned because my British-ness (?) really sprung out with that one. Barbara quickly translated the question and Winnie nodded with a small grin. He then uttered something in German and I heard my name littered within it and noticed how he smiled when he said it. He seemed to be a right bloody sweetheart that's all I know.

I knocked my glass against his before we downed our drinks.

There were a few more stilted attempts at speaking but Winnie and I gave up after a few minutes. We didn't want Barbara standing there as a necessary translator, and it seemed we wanted to be left alone. The dancing resumed and my eyes couldn't help by trail about Winnie's muscled physique with a barely suppressed appreciation. Nothing wrong with acknowledging someone's attractive is there? No I didn't think so.

By that point I was thoroughly disorientated as the latest top up of vodka hit my system. At one stage I tipped my head back as Laid Back's White Horse pumped through the club and it half struck me with vertigo. Winnie laughed and reached over to steady me. Both of his broad palms snaked either side of my waist and the hard press of his stocky body against mine caused me to tense.

The dancing resumed, but this time when Winnie's hips moved they ground against my own. When his chest moved, it was flush to mine. After a painfully long dry spell without the touch of someone else, I was torturously aware of it all. An insignificantly small voice told me to step away, but I didn't.

I sucked in a sharp breath as I felt the evidence of his arousal push against me as the dancing continued. Various images of what we could be doing right now slashed through my mind. The possibility of all manner of illicit acts with Winnie cut through my conscience and made it shut down for the time being.

I pulled away momentarily, only to tap at my nostril. I tossed my chin in the direction of the bathroom, suggesting we go take a line. Winnie caught my meaning immediately and threaded his fingers through mine to keep us together through the crowd we now had to navigate through.

We slipped into the bathroom, and it seemed everyone in the club had the same idea. If people weren't fucking in the stalls they were doing lines at the sink. Of course I had merely signalled for us to do the latter, but we decided to do so in the privacy of a stall. That's all. Nothing wrong with that. I didn't instigate a thing. I haven't done anything wrong.

Before I could attempt to slip the small sachet of coke which Polder had offered me earlier from my pocket, Winnie had invaded my space. A smirk appeared on his lips, one I couldn't help but return. His large frame crowded around me, and my mind proceeded to empty of all rational thoughts.

At that stage I just wanted to get off to someone else's touch, and I didn't really care for the semantics. I didn't give a fuck who, how, or when (well now preferably), I just needed that brief bloody second of bliss and the touch of another fucking human. Sex is simply a high that's just  achieved in a different way, there's no need for feelings to be attached to it. It's like having a drink on a night out, that's all. It's nothing, absolutely nothing.

Lips were suddenly on mine, and I only made a half hearted attempt to return the kiss. I didn't want all the shit before the act in an attempt to make it intimate. If it wasn't intimate, it would be okay. Yes, it would be okay. Insistent, I moved those large, warm hands down towards my belt. Winnie didn't have much English, but I don't think I really needed to spell out what I wanted. Winnie caught on and palmed his hand roughly over my jean front.

I may have groaned, I don't know, the pulsing bass carried through from the dance floor and had plugged itself directly into my brain. My temples thumped and rattled. Winnie was now on his knees, and my hands were in his hair. I jerked myself fully into his awaiting mouth and let out a raspy breath at the half fucking forgotten sensation of being touched by someone else.

It doesn't mean anything, it's fine.

I rocked myself in and out of Winnie's mouth, not letting up the rapid pace because I just wanted the end result. His hands felt good, his lips felt good, but it wasn't intimate. It wasn't. It was impersonal and uncomplicated, which is all I needed right now to get me through.

It doesn't mean anything.

"Freddie! Are you in here?" Phoebe's voice suddenly rose above the din of the music and debauchery. It wasn't the first time Phoebe would've caught me in a rather compromising position and I doubt it would be the last.

My eyes which were previously clenched shut, briefly opened, but only to roll impatiently. My gaze trailed downward, enjoying the sight of bulky Winnie on his knees. Phoebe could fucking sod off until I was finished. I forced myself in deeper, and Winnie allowed it, took it.

My god. Can't I be left alone for five minutes?

"I'm fucking—" I sucked in a sharp breath, "I'm busy."

Luckily not for too much longer, because with a particularly deep stroke, bliss lazily sparked throughout my entire body. A brief sense of pleasure erupted in my mind, and my breathing turned jagged as I finished in Winnie's mouth. That was it. Done.

Probably not at all worth it in the long run, but fuck that. Here and now, it was good. A stupidly satisfied smile twitched at my lips as I removed myself from Winnie. With my appetite for pleasure temporarily sated, I immediately set about recomposing myself. Maybe I would return the favour to the man later, but for now I just needed another bloody drink. I tried to communicate as much to Winnie but I don't know how much of it registered. I already went to unlock the door, because I suddenly felt extremely claustrophobic in the small space.

"Finished?"

The sound of my favourite voice in the entire world caused said world to come smashing down around me. My hands stilled on the belt that I was currently tightening. Reality didn't just hit, it tore through me with a vengeance. I tricked my mind into thinking it was sober for a brief second because I needed my wit's about me. I quickly pushed through the door, almost tripping over Winnie in the process, who was only just about risen up from his knees. It would have bloody comedic if not for the person standing on the other side of the door.

No. Fuck. No.

Hayes was there. He was here. I noticed Phoebe's hand on his arm, his other hand was on the door as if he had been trying to usher Hayes out of the bathroom before I had been caught. Aside from his obvious horror, Hayes had all the marks of someone who had gone through hell and back due to public travel. The stress of it all was engraved under his eyes, in his stance, and in the crease between his brows. The betrayal and hurt that shone in his steel blue eyes was completely fresh and completely my fault.

Fuck. No. Fuck.

"I'm terribly sorry I hope I didn't interrupt." Hayes forced a mirthless chuckle.

The sound painfully pierced my skin causing me to wince. Other men were really going at it in the other stalls, and it was just about the worst possible setting for me to be caught in. Not exactly appropriate for the argument that was about to ensue. Very fucking classy of me.

Hayes' steely eyes flickered over Winnie but darted away as if he couldn't bear to truly look at him for even a second, he just needed to confirm who it was. I wasn't even worth such a fleeting glance as Hayes made sure not to even accidentally look at me. His sharp jaw tensed, so hard that I thought it may shatter apart.

"Please don't let me stop you." Hayes forced another humourless chuckle and I knew the sound would haunt me indefinitely, "Carry on."

With that Hayes turned on his heel, and went to leave. The movement wasn't smooth like usual, in fact he half faltered. I can't have done this. I can't have hurt Hayes like this. I can't have done this. I had no fucking reason to do this. I thought I had already lost Hayes, but now I was faced with it for real, and it was much more awful than I could have ever imagined.

All my past anger towards Hayes had vanished because he had showed up. My whole fucking reason for being upset with him didn't exist anymore. I had no excuses. None.

Phoebe was standing there looking rather guilty himself. He had obviously been trying to cover for me once he ran into Hayes. Phoebe was clearly with someone who was looking for me, someone who wouldn't want to catch me getting off in the bathroom. I just wasn't fucking clever or cognisant enough to catch on.

"Hayes," the sheer desperation in my tone caught me off guard. Up until now, I was unable to speak, and even now the ability seemed beyond me.  "Hayes. No. Please, no."

It didn't mean anything.

Hayes ignored me and flung the door open. The Romantics' overplayed Talking in Your Sleep rushed in from the dance floor and into the bathroom, only to become a muffled bass beat when the door swung shut again. Of course, Winnie tugged at my arm as I went to rush after Hayes. He didn't have a fucking clue what was going on but he was the least of my worries right now.

"Was ist los?" He asked and although I knew none of this was his fault, I shrugged myself out of his grip at an almost violent rate.

"Hayes!" I shouted over the music the second I burst out of the bathroom door.

My eyes flicked about, struggling against the strobe lights to find Hayes. A vice seemed to be crushing my lungs, and I can't ever remember a time where I felt such debilitating panic. The cocaine that I had been enjoying all evening just exacerbated it. The artificial smoke that snaked down my nostrils didn't help matters either. There were too many bodies swarming about, and Hayes had fucking disappeared into them. I would never find him in here, but I anticipated that he would be making a break for the exit.

I set my sights on the exit and rushed toward it.

I didn't have a single idea what I could say to Hayes to make this okay, but that was secondary, I just needed to get to him. Words would come later. I knew if Hayes fled this time it would be final, and I couldn't fucking deal with that. I wouldn't.

I tumbled out into the cold and damp road that spilled out from the club's exit. The men lingering about on the pavement, or leant against the wall were all obviously kicked out for intoxication. Hayes was weaving his way between a group of loud drunks when I finally caught sight of him. I joined their ranks as I started shouting.

"Hayes!"

I shoved my way through the group he had previously dodged. I don't know how I managed to get this far with how intoxicated I was, I think some sort of mad adrenaline rush had hit me. Even my body recognised I couldn't let Hayes get away.

Hayes stilled as he rounded the corner. His mere back was enough to display the wall he had built to shut me out. His shoulders were tense, his spine painfully straight, and I knew that I was about to be on the receiving end of an absolutely dreadful flurry of cruel worlds. I would take each one of them, and not bat an eyelash because I was simply not going to let him end this.

"Hayes?" I repeated, gently this time.

His usual grace had vanished, and when he twisted to face me, it was a stilted manoeuvre. "What? What could you possibly have to say to me right now?"

The words didn't come like I thought they would. What could I say? I love you and don't want to lose you, I'm sorry you were right there as someone else gave me head and then offered to return the favour later? I have had full on affairs, this was fucking nothing in comparison, yet I had never felt such a smothering sense of guilt. That's because this was a real relationship and my mind was able to twist it into something insignificant and doomed so I could behave in any way I wanted.

"You- you weren't meant to be here."

Of course that's not what I was supposed to say, but it seemed as though I needed to dance on the ashes of the relationship I had just burned to the ground.

Hayes raked his hand through his hair, and it looked as though he had to stop himself from tearing it out at the root. "I'm sorry, the next time you want to cop off with another man, I'll stay at home. Does that suit you better?"

"I- I meant to say... my lips smacked together uselessly, "You weren't here."

Oh good fucking Lord shut up.

"I was late," Hayes practically spat, "Late. I tried to ring you from the airport but you didn't answer. I missed my flight, and then there were no seats left on the next one. So I flew to Berlin instead and spent four fucking hours in a car to get here." He still couldn't look at me, "Then I had to go out and search every dive, bar, and club because you weren't at the hotel."

Of course. Of course there was an explanation but I wanted any reason to paint myself a victim. Then I could do whatever I wanted couldn't I?

Hayes' hands once again snagged through his hair, "It shouldn't even matter! Just because I'm not here doesn't mean—" his voice dropped, "it doesn't mean you can do this to me."

The cold edge to his voice had vanished for a moment as his pain shone through. Even the night his parents crushed him, he had managed to bury things enough to appear hollow. Right now, agony was simmering from Hayes and it was all because of me. I had done this.

"This is all so predictable of you Freddie," Hayes shook his head slowly, "I don't know why I expected anything different."

My eyes flicked about his painfully handsome face, as if I knew I would need to sketch it to memory because I would not be seeing it again. I tried to reason with myself, that I've been forgiven for less by other people, that there had to be a chance for forgiveness, even if it was slim. My brief flash of positive thinking fluttered out when I noticed that Hayes still couldn't meet my gaze. How could I be forgiven when he can't even bring himself to look at me?

"Has this happened before?" Hayes' voice wavered from the strain of keeping himself together, "Or is it stupid to ask?"

I shook my head furiously, "No." I was inexplicably hoarse.

"Well you're bound to say that aren't you?" Hayes chuckled, and for a brief moment the sound seemed as though it wanted to turn into a sob.

I could tell exactly what was going through his mind right now because it was written all over his face. Without being guilty of cheating until tonight, Hayes now clearly couldn't think of me being faithful at any stage of us being apart. I was in no position to convince him otherwise either. Hayes had pointed out Winnie fancied me before, and I waved him off, assured him that he'd never have to worry about him and now look what I've done. I really was rather predictable after all.

"I love you Hayes." I whispered as if it would fix everything, "I love you."

The way Hayes flinched it appeared as though I had said the most insulting thing imaginable. He tipped his chin back slightly, eyes clenched shut as if he could stop the tears falling if they didn't have the aid of gravity to help them drop down.

"This is what happens when you love someone?" Hayes cracked a disbelieving smile containing absolutely no humour, "I'd dread to see what you'd do if you hated me Freddie."

I should have been apologising, down on my hands and knees begging him to forgive me. Instead, the connection between my mind and my mouth seemed to have completely severed.

"It was just a blowjob Hayes, that's all."

My lips twisted shut the second the idiotic words left them, knowing they should never have been said in the first place. Especially not in that tone. Not in the bloody tone that says 'I'm Freddie Mercury darling, and I'll shag everything that moves. I can get away with murder. Aren't I just lovably charming and camp!?'

"Oh," Hayes exhaled shakily, "Oh, that's all?" A hand went to his chest, "I'm so fucking sorry for overreacting in that case Freddie."

"You wouldn't have told me then would you?" The tremble in Hayes' voice was ruining me, "You clearly think what you did is so insignificant that I can't even— if you'd fucked him would you have admitted it was wrong then? Would I have been allowed to be angry? This is all about you Freddie, it always is. Instruct me on how to react, please, tell me what I'm meant to do with all of this."

"That's not—" I stammered, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it was just— it was awful, but it didn't mean anything to me. Nothing."

"I was right there Freddie, it just happened." Hayes said, as if the full weight of the situation had all just hit him now, "Jesus Christ your fucking belt is still undone!" His voice rasped from the effort of not crying, "How can you expect me to just dismiss it?"

"I don't right now," I assured him, and went to brush my hand down his arm, "But with time we can—"

Hayes conceded a large step backward, unable to handle my touch and his face didn't even bother to conceal his disgust. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, but he simply refused to let them fall in front of me. The vulnerable side that Hayes let seldom few get a glimpse of was boarded away from me now, the privilege had been revoked.

"Time? You think this will be fixed with time?" Hayes croaked, "You couldn't even give me two months— two months— to try and patch myself up again after what happened with my family, the family I only risked losing because I thought I had you."

"Hayes." I found myself reaching out towards him once again. This time my fingers brushed against his side, and it took everything not to crush him close.

"I was trying to fix myself so that we could have all the time in the bloody world together," Hayes could scarcely breathe, "And you couldn't give me two fucking months."

"Hayes..."

I don't know when I started crying, but my tears practically scorched my skin as they flowed down my cheeks. I immediately noticed that the sight of me being so upset was jarring for Hayes. Even though I'm the one who's caused all this bloody hurt, he half looked like he was going to try and comfort me because he couldn't stand it. His eyes finally snagged on mine, and his fingers twitched as if they were about to reach out. I took my opportunity in his moment of emotional disarray.

My hands cradled either side of his face, and before Hayes could even attempt to pull away I pushed my lips against his. For a brief second he returned it out of pure muscle memory, and I knew there and then that they were the only lips I every truly wanted on mine. But I had to go and fuck it all up. My hands smoothed down his back, and all I wanted was to trace my fingers over those fucking dimples that I adored at the base of his spine. There were so many things I wanted at that moment because I knew I may never get a chance to do them again.

Of course Hayes forcefully yanked himself away, hard enough to nearly cause us to tumble over. He wiped at his mouth, likely because I tasted of several litres of vodka, or more likely because he knew my lips were elsewhere.

All the words that I couldn't find earlier decided to race out now in a frenzied jumble.

It was just the one time Hayes, I promise.

I haven't done this to you before, I swear. It didn't mean anything, it was nothing. It'll never happen again.

I love you and I'm not going to let this be the end.

Don't leave me, please Hayes, just please don't leave me. Don't run away, don't. Stay. Just stay.

Hayes remained silent during my half crazed episode. He watched stonily as my tears slowly ran out but I continued to unravel. Even though his feet remained firmly planted on the spot across from me, I felt Hayes distancing himself from me with every word.

Gone was the shock, the hurt, the disbelief, and the rage from his body language; any and all emotions simply ceased to exist. Hayes was studying me with a cool indifference that I hadn't been subjected to since we first met. He had now expertly hidden away his feelings, and that's when I knew there was no more getting through to him. The window of opportunity had passed.

"I'm going to go now Freddie." Hayes said monotonously and cheated a step back. "I suggest you go back to— wherever it is you spend your nights— and pull yourself back together. This isn't your best look."

I tried in vain to find the traces of my Hayes in his face but he was gone. There was no sign of the shy lopsided grin he only reserved for me, or the nervous smile that twitched at his lips whenever he told me that he loved me. The crinkle by his eyes when he desperately tried to hide that he was amused by my brashness.... All of it. Gone. Hayes was now just a blank slate, and I hated it because that's what everyone else saw of him too. I was no longer important so why should I get any of his special treatment?

I made one last attempt to stop Hayes from leaving me in the dust. It was what I deserved, but I was too selfish to care. I need him. At that point Hayes was already walking away, so I had to speed up to catch up with him. The movement did nothing to help my spinning head and aching abdomen.

"I let things get to this place, but I'm going to fucking get us out of it too." I guaranteed Hayes and caught a hold of his wrist, it didn't pull him to a halt so we continued walking, "Alright? Just don't leave. You can stay at the hotel, you've been travelling all day."

To see me. He'd fucking travelled all day to see me, and I couldn't give him the benefit of the doubt just because I wanted any excuse to get off. If Hayes left now that would be it. If I could get him to stay near me, I could make this work. I'll wear him down until he forgives me, and I'll never fuck it up again.

"Come back with me. Fight with me, shout and scream at me, fucking ignore me, I don't give a shit," I begged, "Just please, please, stay. Stay darling. Don't leave."

Hayes slowly brought his hand to rest over my own, and for a moment I thought my impassioned plea had worked. Gingerly he pried my fingers away from his wrist and let my hand fall limp. Despite of his icy expression, tears had once again pooled in his eyes. He blinked furiously and they caught in his lashes.

"Please stop." Hayes ground out, "Stop. You ended things the second you involved yourself with someone else, you're the one who left me."

I had fallen a few steps behind Hayes' long strides, the fresh air was not helping the state I was in. The drugs and the alcohol seemed to rest like a dead weight in my stomach, but the guilt had churned it all up.

"Hayes!"

I had to pause for a moment and lay my hand against a streetlight, because I wasn't sure whether or not the bloody contents of my stomach were going to stay there. And you just keep getting classier dear. I took a few large breaths, in and out, hoping that would stop me from throwing up a lung.

I glanced up, and saw that Hayes was fading further and further away. I watched as he lifted his arm to furiously rub at his face, but that's about all I could make out from his blurred figure. I straightened, and blinked furiously to get my swimming vision under control. I walked another few steps, shouting his name aloud, each time more desperate than before.

I hurried in the direction he had gone but eventually skidded to a halt as the road spread out in two alternating directions. Not only that, but it was a bloody Main Street and it was littered with people. Many of them dipped into the connecting network of side streets and I have no fucking idea where Hayes had slipped off to.

Hayes was gone. He was gone. Gone.

A series of panicked rasps tore free of my chest, and I had to slowly slide onto the curb with the aid of another street lamp. I dipped my head down between my knees and just fucking exploded. Every reaction under the sun passed through me, from tearing at my hair, to sobbing, to cursing Hayes' fucking name for making me feel like this. Even when Phoebe eventually found me I didn't let up. Even though I was sitting in the soft glow of the overhead lamplight, a permanent sense of darkness seemed to swallow me up entirely.

Hayes had vanished into the night, leaving nothing in his wake except for the shattered fragments of any plans we had made for a future together.

***
End of Part Two
***

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A/N-
Happy Holidays Everyone!🤍🎄Hope you all enjoyed ho, ho, ho.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you will stick with the story for the third and final part.