F.M
Munich, Germany
August 24th

Why the fuck was Hayes hanging about the club if he was hellbent on avoiding me?

Yes, yes, hello, as if I had been chattering his ear off.  All I did was politely greet him, and Hayes acted as though I was some overeager twat that he desperately needed to get away from. He was now even mingling with journalists, people he regularly used to complain about to me, just so that I couldn't approach him.

Hayes was definitely aware that I was skirting about, trying to catch him for a moment, which is the only possible reason he decided to chat with a few of the tabloid writers. They were practically barbed wire. I used to regularly wind him up by suggesting he was in the same group as the Sun and Daily Mail. I don't think there's a quicker way of pissing a real journalist off than by likening them to a tabloid one.

Yet right now Hayes was much more comfortable speaking with a Daily fucking Mail journalist than me.

"Is Hayes wearing a leather jacket?" Phoebe whispered, "Is this the equivalent of a woman getting a new haircut after a breakup?"

"Yes." I replied.

I saw it in his wardrobe a few times, stuffed in the back with any other article of clothing that wasn't cashmere or a luxury suit. It seemed like Hayes was switching things up now. The jacket was rather faded when I found it, as it was now. Phoebe and I used to have a bet on as to whether or not Hayes had worn normal clothes in his twenties. There was no evidence to back either of our theories. Yet.

"He also got the haircut though."

"Well yes Phoebe, I think in six months the man would get his hair trimmed."

I was unable to stop my tone from dripping with the clear irritation this situation caused. Irritated because Hayes wouldn't speak to me, and irritated because I only had myself to blame. I was aware of the fact that I missed Hayes, but was able to temporarily bury it under my recent busy schedule. Nothing could help bury the feeling now that Hayes was in the same room as me.

Phoebe was unruffled by my pissy attitude, "I don't understand why he's sticking around if he's not going to let you talk to him."

Exactly!!! "Because he's now clearly a fucking social butterfly by the looks of things." I growled and let my gaze dart around the club floor, "I need another drink."

Yes, Hayes was always charming in a sort of unassuming way, reserved until he popped out something funny. Now it seemed as though he had finally caught onto the fact he was this bloody glorious looking man with a good sense of humour and was going to town with it. Why does confidence have to make people more attractive? Who decided on that stupid notion?

"You and alcohol haven't mixed well with Hayes in the past." Phoebe noted in a clear attempt to steer me away from acting foolish.

I knew that Phoebe was either referring to the time Hayes and I fell through a table after a gig, or the time I copped off with someone else in an attempt to push Hayes into admitting we were together. Both were stupid. However, all I could think of was the messy drunken night a few months ago that cost me Hayes.

"I should leave him alone." I mused aloud, "Shouldn't I?"

"Probably." Phoebe agreed.

"Yes," I nodded with conviction, "I'll just leave him alone, he deserves to be left alone. Let him come to me if he wants to."

"That's very mature of you..." Phoebe trailed off as he noticed that Hayes had just slipped away from his protective media circle. He then proceeded to sigh, "Bye Freddie."

"Bye dear!" I exclaimed before I rushed off after Hayes.

Hayes' familiar frame wove in and out through the crowds of people, and it was a struggle to keep up with him. Especially when everyone kept trying to grab at me for a chat, or to drag me into an an impromptu interview. I had just be ripped into all evening by those same people, I don't need to waste anymore time on them. I politely tried to dodge them so that Miami would have no reason for a heart attack even when I wanted to tell them all to fuck off.

I noticed Hayes the second he casually strolled into the conference room, even in his all black ensemble. Black shoes, formal black trousers looped tight to his waist with a black belt, and a black leather jacket. He was also wearing the dreaded black turtleneck. Why it has such a fucking effect on me I don't know because it's a fucking turtleneck. It even sounds unattractive, yet here Hayes is with his stupid slutty waist, making it a bloody torture device.

Anyway, yes... that was my reaction to seeing Hayes from a distance, but now he was close. Close enough to brush my fingers over his back if I wanted to. He had pulled to a halt at the bar, and I had barely stopped myself from knocking into him.

"I'll just have a Jack Daniel's please." Hayes drummed his fingertips along the countertop.

"On the rocks sir?"

"Yes, that'll be fine." Hayes flicked his hand dismissively. "Thanks."

"I'll get it," I piped up, and my voice actually fucking broke. Broke, as if I were a teenage boy. The first time I had spoke to the man in months, and my voice... broke.

"No," Hayes replied as if completely unsurprised that I was there, "He won't." He didn't turn to face me, he simply angled his shoulder so that I couldn't get a good look at him.

I cleared my throat to save myself from further embarrassment, "Well, all the drinks are technically on me, but I'll get you a champagne—"

"No this is my second. I won't be having anymore." Hayes said dismissively and plucked his wallet out of his pocket to pay for the drink, before realising that everything was indeed on the house. I thought that he may try to pay anyway, because that man had an unhealthy amount of pride. He tipped.

"Second?" Since when did he have a bloody limit? A few drinks could've loosened him up for me.

"Yes, is there an echo?" Hayes pulled away from the bar, tumbler of amber liquid in hand.

He had no choice then but to turn and face me. Hayes didn't meet my gaze, but at least now he was facing me. I greedily took in his striking features, unable to understand how I had gone without seeing them for so long. My fingers twitched, not knowing where to begin if I had the chance to touch him again. Right now it was a toss up between tracing over the sharp curve of his cheekbones or threading my fingers through his freshly cropped dark hair.

I had pictured this moment ever since Hayes had walked away, this first run in after the breakup. I thought I had mentally drafted a bloody brilliant speech over the months to recite to him when I got the chance. Anything I had previously prepared didn't spring to mind and I was left staring blankly at Hayes like a twat.

"How have you been?" I finally blurted when Hayes took an impatient sip of his drink.

"Good," Hayes nodded, still determined to stare off into open space, "You?" He added with strained politeness after a moment of silence.

I saw no point in attempting to lie to him, lying wouldn't help matters. There was no room for pride if I wanted to patch things up with Hayes, and all it took was seeing him again to remember that I did. For now, if I could even just get Hayes to stop acting so shut off it would be a win.

"Miserable." I replied simply, even when that was only putting it lightly. Nobody needed to know about the Barry Manilow breakdown. Maybe as a last resort that would earn me some pity.

"That's a shame." Hayes hummed as if I had just commented that it may rain.

That cool monotone paired with his impassive face never failed to make me want to grab him by the shoulders and shake. Hayes knew that. He finished his drink before forcefully setting it back down on the counter.

"It'll pass," Hayes commented in a tone that really said 'hang in there mate', and went to move away from me.

Now, that did piss me off... a little. I grabbed onto Hayes' arm, stopping him in his tracks. I may as well have grabbed a bloody lion by the tail for how stupid a move it was. He pulled his arm away immediately but held his ground.

"What?"

"Just wait a second, please."

Hayes finally glanced at me for a moment, dark lashes low over his cool eyes. My breath caught at the back of my throat because I had forgotten how it felt when Hayes stared at me as if everything had blurred behind me. As if sensing my line of thought, his gaze darted elsewhere. Hayes was really determined not to give me bloody anything. Not even two seconds of eye contact.

"How are you able to act this way so easily with me?" I finally asked lowly.

"What way?" Hayes replied stiffly, which really answered his question.

He then proceeded to pluck his glasses out from his breast pocket. Hayes had been wearing them throughout the interview, presumably to write points of interest, but he didn't jot down a single thing. Not even when he asked Roger and Brian a couple of questions to help us out of a bind. The glasses were back in his hands now, and he used the end of his clingy jumper to briefly clean them.

"I've seen you with everyone else, all charming and smiles." I sounded daft but I kept going as I  became fixated the movements of his fingertips. "You can't even pretend to put up with me. You were never this... cold, not even when we first bloody met."

Hayes fixed me an expression that read "well you cheated so what do you fucking expect?" But then something else flickered across his face, something familiar. He was about to be extremely difficult in an attempt to get me to leave of my own accord. If there was one talent Hayes had, it was the art of provocation.

"I can pretend to be nice to you Freddie, if that's what you want?" Hayes secured his glasses on his nose. "Would that suit you best? Your comfort is simply paramount to me, really, what are you demands and I'll see that they're met."

Here we fucking go.

"No that's not what I want." I tried to keep some thread of patience intact even when Hayes was clearly trying to slash through it with a knife.

"Oh?" Hayes glanced at me over his glasses and I wanted to screech expletives at the sight. He knows I hate that look. He bloody knows it.

I took a deep breath. "I just want to talk to you, properly. No..." I waved my hand to gesture at his general figure, "acting."

"Acting?" He asked, his glasses slightly fell down the slope of his nose. The peer grew more severe, and my patience thinned further.

"Yes. Acting." I bit out.

"I don't believe I'm "acting" in any way." Hayes folded his arms, letting his fingers drum impatiently against his bicep.

"Yes, you are." My eyes fell to the arms he clearly wanted me to look at. Tart. "And I think we could both do with a proper conversation."

Ever so slowly, Hayes' glasses fell further down his nose as he tipped his sharp chin downward. His dark brows arched ever so slightly before his steel blue eyes peered over the fully fallen spectacles. The dreaded expression was fucking complete.

"Could we really?" Hayes asked in a cool tone.

Look, that man knows how to wind me up better than any other and that's the only possible reason I could give for reacting so childishly.

"For fuck sake!" I exclaimed and snatched the glasses right off of his supercilious face, "Can we drop all of this!?"

Hayes' blinked in surprise, "Give me them back you twit!" He went to grab the glasses but I hid them behind my back. "You know I need them."

"You don't need them to speak." I smiled sweetly.

"Well done, but I do need them to see."

"You can see me, I'm close enough." I hummed, ignoring his flared nostrils, "Anyway, do you want to chat somewhere else, somewhere private?"

Hayes' eyes narrowed on me, but I simply shrugged innocently. "You're worse than a child." He grumbled in disbelief.

That was before Hayes turned on his heel and grabbed a hold of an objectively attractive, yet plain, man. He looked familiar, definitely another journalist.

"Jasper, sorry I lost you earlier."

Jasper White. Critic at New Music Express, who once described Queen as "quite repulsive" and "unbelievably crass" back in 81' when we released our greatest hit record. NME were always bloody gunning for Queen, for me. How could they not with journalists like Jasper White, Tony Stewart, and until 79', Hayes Griffith, on their payroll. Now Hayes was unlike the other two because his wrath extended to everyone so it wasn't personal, and he definitely wasn't at his worst until Rolling Stone. But Tony Stewart, the man behind that awful fucking 'Is This Man a Prat?' and Jasper White, who never failed to whine about Queen in a personal manner when reviewing a record? Both bloody awful, and had been since Queen got a lick of success.

"Hayes!" Jasper exclaimed his name with familiarity, "I wondered where you had disappeared off to. Sorry if I came on too strong with the shop talk earlier."

"Oh no, don't worry about it." Hayes said with a small affable grin that rubbed me up the wrong fucking way because I wasn't on the end of it.

"Freddie," Jasper greeted me politely with a nod, "That conference went rather smoothly. Sun City though... interesting choice of venue."

By interesting, Jasper White clearly meant 'stupid'. It was also clear that he was already gearing up to write a scathing article all about it. There was a lot of political opposition to us performing, but Queen weren't a political band. We played to whoever wanted to listen... but I'm pretty sure we were breaking some sort of United Nations boycott by doing so. I purposely made myself as uniformed as possible on the matter.

Hayes shot me a small look, as if to say 'keep quiet'. Which I already knew to bloody do, so he can fuck right off and continue to act like a trollop with all of his smiling.

"You just apologised for talking too much shop," Hayes rolled his eyes in a playful manner, "Don't make it necessary to offer the same apology again."

Hayes proceeded to place his hand on the crook of Jasper's elbow, and gestured for him to move along, quickly. "What were you drinking before, champagne? I think I saw the lady with the tray over there."

My vision swam with white hot anger (and maybe a little green blinded me), as Hayes led Jasper away from. As if he couldn't bloody wait to get away from me.

If Barbara hadn't appeared in front of me at that moment I would have chased after him. I probably would have made an absolute spectacle of myself too, just because Hayes' hand lay on the other journalist's arm for far longer than necessary. Hayes' hands shouldn't be on anyone else, ever. There's never a scenario where that is necessary, not one!

"Was that Hayes?" Barbara whispered loudly, and at the sight of us interacting a few camera flashes went off.

"Yes." I gritted out and grabbed the nearest drink that floated my way.

I winced at the red wine which was much more on the dry side than sweet but continued on drinking it. As it was the only drink tray nearby, I continued sipping at them, keeping the poor girl holding it up close. All the while, Barbara was asking me what exactly I was going to do about Hayes. Very few of my friends saw me as nothing more than some promiscuous twat incapable of settling with one person, so she automatically assumed that I was just trying to get my leg over and be done with things again. 

I was a little peeved by that summary of my character. Yes, by copping off with Winnie I had basically confirmed I couldn't tie myself down, but it wasn't some fucking lust-filled affair. It was a bloody ridiculous mistake that I had made after a few rocky weeks with Hayes and heavy intoxication. I knew I would never do something so stupid again, not if it meant hurting him the way I did. Losing him the way I did.

Maybe I was getting old, or maybe I now had the taste of a real relationship lingering about, but I was at a point in my life where I actually wanted to settle. I wanted to leave Munich behind, move into my new home, and finally just hang my bloody hat. The only issue with all of that, was I needed Hayes to fully achieve that feeling of contentment which I was now searching for. I've been in enough relationships to know that Hayes is the only one who's ever made me feel that way. I also know that I'll never feel that way again, not with anyone new. I'm not going to get over Hayes, and I don't fucking want to either.

It's selfish, I don't give a shit, but I don't want Hayes getting over me either. I need him, and that's that. All that 'if you love someone set them free' nonsense is ridiculous. Love is selfish, and I refuse to let him go, not until he explicitly tells me to piss off out of his life forever.

Barbara began telling me some story about paparazzi on her balcony, but I really wasn't paying much attention. I was too busy trying to figure out if Jasper White was attracted to men or not. He certainly looked as though he was quite dazzled by Hayes, but most people were when he decided to be all smiles and jokes. The thought of Hayes with anyone else, was enough to drive me half cracked. Something Barbara noticed and couldn't put up with anymore as she slowly backed off.

"Jasper White." I whispered to Phoebe the second he popped over because he was just an encyclopaedia of gossip.

"Hm?"

"That man, talking to Hayes. Hear anything about him?"

Phoebe mulled the name over as he stared at the plain but handsome journalist. "Forty something, works at one of those music magazines, married..."

I sagged in relief, "Oh good."

"He once slept with Kenny Everett though so I don't know how solid that marriage is really."

Terrible, this is just fucking awful!

"That's it, we need to save Hayes." I declared as I plucked up another glass of wine. I quickly shooed the server away with a good natured grin and told her to cut me off.

Phoebe exhaled deeply, "Save Hayes?"

"From that man with loose morals." I exclaimed impatiently.

My assistant blinked, "You?"

"This isn't about me!" I growled, "This is about saving Hayes from that terrible man. He offered Hayes a job at NME you know, clearly he expects 'favours' in return for the position!"

Phoebe pinched the bridge of his nose, "They've wanted him for months, I don't think Hayes needs to sleep with anyone for the post." He eyed the wine in my hand, "How many of those have you had?"

"Enough to know I'm thinking clearly!"

"That doesn't— what?"

Just as I was about to turn around to find Hayes in the crowd again, a shoulder knocked against my own in passing. A splash of red wine immediately bled onto my white top. The sight of it was enough to piss me off, and I clearly didn't need any further irritation in my current state. It was then I saw who the culprit was.

Oh he's really fucking going for it now.

"Oh sorry mate." Hayes exclaimed, "I didn't see you there." He squinted, "I've misplaced my glasses."

"You fucking twat!" I hissed and placed the spilt drink down at the nearest table, "Did you do that on purpose?" Yet he had the fucking cheek to say I was worse than a child.

"Freddie?" Hayes further strained his eyes, "Again, I don't have my glasses so I couldn't tell. Are you okay?"

I scowled before I pressed an accusatory finger right into the centre of Hayes' sturdy chest. My mouth dropped open, ready to lay into the critic for being a bloody petty prat but I paused at Hayes' innocent expression. His too innocent expression. I glanced to my left, seeing that a few journalists were watching us as if we were about to put on a real good show. I then glanced to my right only to realise that an actual video camera was pointed my way. It had been set up to capture some of the nights events for promo clips. I knew it was there, somewhere, I just hadn't realised I was now so close to it. Hayes obviously did.

I slowly retracted my finger, smoothed down Hayes' jacket and offered him a forced grin. "You were trying to make me look bad, publicly?" I said through my smile.

"You do that all on your own sweetheart." Hayes hummed so that only I could hear him. "Now stop staring me out of it."

That condescending sweetheart had me ready to shove him right through that video camera, as did the fact that he was acting so bloody ridiculous when I had been trying to be nice. Alcohol fuelled the fiery temper that had been stoked since the start of the conference. It must have been written all over my face, because Phoebe decided I needed saving.

"Freddie!" Phoebe exclaimed with a forced grin of his own, "I really need to introduce you to someone! They're right over here, dying for a chat."

"Peter is that you?" Hayes cracked a false smile, "Good to have the gang back together isn't it?"

Phoebe winced with the guilt of trying to conceal my wrongdoings, "I ah," he chuckled, "Yes, good to see you."

The quirk of Hayes lips and the lazy narrowing of his eyes signified that he was about to make an absolutely scathing comment. That particular expression also told me he'd happily have someone in tears and seeking cover underground, so I quickly shoved Phoebe and I out of his firing range.

"Can you please get me a vodka tonic," I asked Phoebe, "I'm going to go out back and clear my head." If that's possible. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Do you need a bodyguard?"

"I think I'll be fine." I scoffed.

I skirted around the edge of the cavernous club room in order to get to the back exit with as little interference as possible. It was bloody freezing in the dimly lit corridor leading out towards the exit and I suddenly wished that I didn't have such a penchant for misplacing my jacket. I knew I had previously given it to our tour manager Gerry Stickells but god knows where he's put it.

I'll just pretend that freezing my tits off is the real issue here, and that I'm not about to fully lose it because Hayes won't speak to me properly.

I tried to remember if Hayes was always this fucking difficult, but I could only look back at any memories with him through a rose-tinted lense. Even if he was doing his best to scare me off right now, all I could see was my version of Hayes. The version where he was relaxed, and surprisingly sweet.

'Tonight... I'm gonna have myself a real good time, I feel al-li-i-i-ive. And the world? I'll turn it inside out, yeah. I'm  floating around in ecstasy...'

I half groaned at the sound of my own voice which rumbled from the club's speakers. The festivities were really kicking off now, and I didn't want to be part of it, not even for a second. I wasn't in a partying mood, I hadn't been in a long time. Maybe my age was finally catching up to me, or maybe I just wasn't bothered mingling with random people in order to find a warm body for my bed. Once you've had fine champagne, it's difficult to settle for packs of cheap cider after all.

I reached for the door, "If I have to listen to this song one more fucking time..." I began to grumble to myself.

"My sentiments exactly."

The sudden sound of Hayes' voice seemed to force my brain to take a temporary break. In my startled state I proceeded to push at the pull door which led to me knocking my forehead against the metal. All of which happened in a split second... right in front of Hayes.

"Fucking bitch." I snarled, not at Hayes, but at the sudden pain that pierced my forehead.

Hayes didn't laugh, he wasn't the type even when he was furious with me, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes." I murmured as I turn to face him.

It was then I noticed that Hayes' hand was held out, his slender fingers outstretched towards my forehead. His brow was even etched with concern. Before Hayes could actually make contact, he stilled with expert control and quickly dropped his hand.

"Didn't sound as hollow as I would have thought." Hayes mused thoughtfully as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

"What?" I frowned.

"Your head?" The briefest and blandest of smiles touched his lips. Ceasefire? "I thought it would sound much more hollow."

"Shut up." I cautiously chuckled and continued to rub at my aching forehead.

Hayes reached forward to pull the door open. Cold air immediately nipped at us as he gestured for me to go out in front. Hayes' hair was already messily parted, but was now being further tousled by the little gust of wind that caught us. I desperately wanted to help tame down the soft locks before he got the chance to do so himself.

"I was just going to get some fresh air..." I managed to finally fill the awkward silence that appeared as I simply stared at him.

"So was I," Hayes murmured, "I'll go out to the front—"

"No it's fine dear." I quickly exclaimed, before I caught a hold of his sleeve and tugged him out after me.

Hayes muttered a few protests but didn't physically tear himself away like I thought he might. It seemed he was taking a break from passionately disliking me for a few minutes, so I had to make the time count. I was willing to wipe all of Hayes' previous behaviour of the night from my mind because he was always the type to thrash around a little in an attempt to make you give up. You just have to get past the first several hurdles with Hayes and he'll give up. You're bloody in.

"Cigarette?" I offered.

Hayes glanced at the propped open carton of Marlboros that I had thrust in front of him like it were a live bomb. My mind had somehow twisted this olive branch into the biggest high stakes moment of my life.

"Cheers." Hayes said in his familiar soft spoken manner. I couldn't help but feel like I had won some sort of jackpot just by getting him to speak to me in his normal voice once again. Granted, it was one word but that's better than nothing.

Hayes leant back against the wall, loosely rolling the cigarette between his slender fingers. Even though he was right there, he wasn't at the same time. Seeing someone after a messy break up is very strange in that regard. It's crazy how much of ourselves we give to someone, unaware that one day they may just disappear from our life. There was a time where Hayes and I couldn't be this close to each other without exchanging a touch, a few joking words, loving whispers, anything. Now I was desperate for some simple conversation. It was just a little ridiculous to think about.

Hayes grabbed his own pack of matches from his pocket before I could offer him my own. I watched carefully as his cheeks hollowed out to take a deep drag of his cigarette. Before he could actually catch me staring at him in a daze, I followed suit and puffed on my own cigarette. We briefly stood in a silence, thick with the all the words that couldn't be said. Not unless I kicked things off.

"No more acting?"

Hayes let out a deep sigh and looked up toward the night sky as if he may find a shred of patience up there. "There never was."

"I disagree."

"Duly noted." I tried to fight off my scowl at his business-as-usual tone.

"I actually didn't see the wine in your hand, that was a miscalculation on my part, I also didn't mean to knock into you quite so hard but I was a little hazy with how close you were." Hayes held his hand out expectantly, "So... my glasses please."

"You're apologising without saying you're sorry?" I asked and reached into my back pocket to retrieve his glasses.

"I'm apologising for my lack of vision because you stole my prescription glasses." Hayes replied and did his best to not brush his fingers against my when he plucked his glasses back. "Thank you."

"Mhm."

"I would instruct you as to how you get the stain out, but I assume it'll be binned in the morning." Hayes studied my abdomen, and I found myself... sucking in my stomach slightly under his stare.

"Might keep it as a memento," I hummed, "Along with the newspaper clippings from tomorrow that'll say I assaulted you for being blind."

Hayes eyes crinkled ever so slightly, like he wanted to laugh but his lips remained flat, no smile, or words touched them. Another silence stretched before us and it looked as though Hayes was trying to get through his cigarette quickly so that he could leave. I knew I needed to be a little brave and ignore any lingering fear of rejection from Hayes, but it was proving difficult. I may never get an opportunity like this again, and needed to take it.

"Why didn't you ever pick up the phone?"

For a moment, I didn't think I had even asked the question loud enough for Hayes to hear me, because the silence continued. I cheated a glance toward him but his expression betrayed nothing. I knew the answer was obvious, but I couldn't help but ask it anyway.

"Why did you keep calling?"

I frowned, "I— what? Isn't it obvious?"

"Not really," Hayes shrugged, "The first few days of calling yes. But the consistent ringing..." he trailed off and I couldn't tell if he was irritated or moved by the fact.

"I was sorry, I am sorry for what I did. You needed to know that." I explained, turning toward him slightly.

"And did you always intend to be sorry for what you did?" Hayes asked and scratched at the days old stubble on his chin, "Or was that only because I showed up?"

I winced, "I regretted it the second—"

"The second it was over? So I didn't overhear you promise that man that you'd pick things up later?" Hayes chuckled mirthlessly, "That doesn't sound like regret does it?"

I felt sick at the reminder of how badly I fucked things up with Hayes. "I understand that you probably hate me—"

"Then there's your reason for why I never picked up the phone." Hayes twisted the end of his cigarette against the wall to extinguish it.

Hearing that Hayes actually hated me, aloud, even when he had every reason to was physically painful. I turned ever so slightly, ready to give him wanted and leave him in peace. I hadn't truly accepted that things were broken beyond repair until now. I held out on the smallest shred of hope that time would help things, but it seemed as though it had only made things worse. He's had time to stew in it all. I should've just turned up at his bloody door and forced him to listen to me, but I couldn't take him rejecting me again.

"That's just the thing, I don't hate you, I can't."

I stilled in my tracks. This was emotional bloody whiplash. A dying ember of hope spluttered about in my chest, waiting for more encouragement.

"I know I'm meant to, I have tried to, but I don't. Which is exactly why I couldn't pick up the phone." Hayes rubbed his fingers into the back of his neck.

Hayes' words pulled me closer toward him but he didn't back away. He held his ground and froze when my hand rested on my arm. Other than that, he didn't acknowledge it, he clearly didn't want to.

"You know that you have this unfair... advantage with me." Hayes' voice dropped slightly as if furious and ashamed to admit it.

At that moment, it didn't seem like it at all, but based on our history it seemed to be true. I saw the way he interacted with others, and delighted in the fact that I got the softer side of Hayes Griffith when no one else did. I bloody loved sitting there like a smug git knowing that Hayes was wrapped around my pinky when other people, especially musicians, bitched about how cold he was. So yes I was aware of this 'advantage' and equally aware that I had fucking lost it. Except... he's said I haven't lost it.

"Freddie?" Hayes' rock salt rasp cut me off as if reading my thoughts. "Please don't take that advantage."

I let my hand drop from his arm immediately, before backing out of his personal space. Hayes seemed rather surprised that I had respected his wishes, but didn't comment on it. He relaxed ever so slightly, seemingly safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't try anything funny with him.

"I should've called when I wrote the article." Hayes then admitted, much to my surprise, "That's the only time I had anything to say to you. It was unprofessional of me to write it, so I do apologise for that."

I opened my mouth, ready to say he could quite literally tarnish or ruin my career with all the articles he wanted, if it helped him get over his anger towards me in any small way. Hayes wasn't finished though.

"I didn't answer the phone for several reasons, but if you really wanted to see how I was, or work things out, you wouldn't have hidden behind the phone." Hayes ran a hand up and down his throat, "Instead you stayed in Munich... maybe with him? I don't know. Dialling a few buttons seemed like a halfhearted attempt to make yourself feel better."

I didn't even realise how staying in Munich could be seen as me staying with the man I had thrown things away with Hayes for. I let Hayes stew with that thought too.

"I stayed to finish the album, and because that's where I was living." I quickly explained, "It was nothing to do with Winnie. Nothing. You and I both know that I wouldn't have made it a step inside your building if I tried to see you."

"You never tried though, so we don't know." Hayes murmured. From his tone he sounded upset that I hadn't made the effort, but furious with himself that he even wanted me to make said effort.

"Look how you were with me this evening," I tried to defend my lack of real effort in making things right with Hayes, "You wanted nothing to do with me."

"I'm talking to you now aren't I?"

Yes, if you took the time to chip away at whatever wall Hayes had built up, it would eventually cave. Just like it seemingly had this evening. Just like it had when I showed up uninvited at his door when he was reeling from what happened with his family. Maybe if I had just turned up this time around, and refused to leave until that wall crumbled, things would be much different now.

"You're so bloody confusing."

I clamped my lips shut, not really meaning to have said the childish jab aloud. I cautiously glanced at Hayes to gauge his reaction. He slowly rested his intense gaze on my face, and I readied myself to do some damage control.

I was completely caught off guard when Hayes let loose a small amused chuckle. "Only because I'm bloody confused, I suppose."

I grinned cautiously, "I have that effect honey."

"I'm aware." Hayes replied gruffly, but his lips twitched slightly as if he wanted to smile.

It felt like things were actually starting to take a turn for the better. I'm under no illusion that Hayes is just going to magically agree to take me back. Or that he even loves me anymore, he might even be fucking seeing someone for all I know, but at least he feels something towards me. Confusion. I can bloody work with confusion. And if he's with someone else at the moment... it's only a minor issue because they can fuck right off as far as I'm concerned.

"Can I ask you something?" Hayes shifted his body to face mine.

I tried to fight off my excitement, "Yes, of course, anything."

Hayes sighed as if what he was about to ask was simply awful, "Edward wants to go to your show in Wembley. Whilst I assured him that the tickets wouldn't sell out, it would seem he wants special treatment."

I maybe visibly deflated. I certainly wasn't expecting Hayes' question to simply be for a bloody backstage pass for his nephew, but I saw an opportunity to work my way into Hayes' good books. I even ignored the dig about us not selling out.

"He wants to get backstage?" I asked, "How is he? And Charlotte—"

"They're good." Hayes replied briskly, "They're all good, although I assume Edward's lost it. Your latest album made him some sort of mega fan."

I chanced a small laugh at that, "Well I can't have him stuck in the crowd with the rest then, can I?" I glanced at Hayes but he was now focused on the ground again, "Will you be bringing him?"

A slight shake of his head, "No."

It seemed like Hayes had the time to build his walls back up, and I was shut out behind it again. My chest twinged with disappointment at the lost opportunity to see Hayes again at Wembley. That must have been why I decided to throw out a daft term for giving Hayes what he wanted.

"I'll give Ed the five star VIP package on one condition." I declared even though I would've done so either way.

"I would've at least thought you owed me one." Hayes pinched the bridge of his nose before he sighed in defeat, "What is it?"

"My birthday," I ventured, "I'm having a bit of a party at the Xenon club whilst I'm in London. My birthday falls on our second night at Wembley. Will you come?"

Hayes seemed confused by the invitation, and began to slowly rub at his jaw. The man was tense beyond belief, even with this newfound breezy attitude. Or in my case, the cold front. Like I said, it's all bloody acting.

"You can even bring Julian along," I added to sweeten the deal, "Or ah, you know, whoever you're uhm..." I waved my hand as if that would fill in the blanks.

I couldn't expect Hayes to just show up alone to a my party, but he might do so if he was just treating it as a night out with Julian. Then saying he could bring someone else was just my way of not-so-subtly asking was he seeing someone right now. I needed to cull the competition promptly if so.

"Whoever I'm what?" Hayes arched a brow my way, "Shagging?"

I half swallowed the cigarette that I was about to take a drag of. "Y-yes, well no, I meant seeing."

"Oh well that changes things." Hayes smoothed a hand up and down his abdomen, before he attempted to politely stifle a yawn, "I can see if Jules is around maybe."

"So you'll go?" I tried to keep my voice steady. Not an easy task I'll tell you, not when Hayes had put the image of him sleeping with other people in my mind and I wanted to go on a rampage.

"I might," Hayes murmured, "If you sort Edward and Annie out for me, regardless of what I decide to do."

"Of course I will."

"Alright then," Hayes nodded with the ghost of a smile, "Have whoever phone my secretary for the details."

"Have my people call your people, is that it dear?" I shook my head with the informality of it all. I suppose we hadn't made enough headway tonight for me to get my fucking phone privileges reinstated.

Hayes glanced over at me, "Exactly."

"So I can't call you myself?"

"I don't know my schedule Freddie," Hayes shrugged a shoulder, "It's a more reliable transfer of information this way." And I don't want to chat to you, would have been much more honest.

"Since when do you not know your schedule?" I asked suspiciously.

Hayes twisted at a silver ring on his right hand, I noticed the family signet ring had disappeared from his left. "I no longer need the structure of it."

... did I break him?

Goosebumps crackled up my arms with another rush of cold wind, "Alright then. I'll sort Edward out." I shivered slightly, once again itching for my jacket, "And maybe see you in London?"

"I wouldn't put money on it." Hayes shut me down because I was probably looking up at him with a hopeful expression. "Right, I'm going back to my hotel."

Before I could even attempt to insist that he stay a little longer (or to come back to mine for a proper chat), Hayes shrugged himself out of his leather jacket. I had to physically restrain myself from not grabbing a hold of the waist he flashed me with. Not taking the advantage. No taking of the advantage here. I can behave.

"I don't know why you insist on being cold all the time." Hayes shook his head before pushing his jacket into my chest. "It's not several sizes too small, but you'll have to make do."

"Hayes?" I held onto the jacket tightly, as if it was Hayes himself.

"Hm?" He replied but he had already put a considerable distance between us as he strode for the door.

"I'm sorry, for everything. I really am."

Hayes paused at that and I watched as he deeply exhaled. The words hung in the air without a response for an uncomfortably long time and I tried to scrape my brain for more words that could fill the silence. Hayes angled his body slightly, so that he could glance at me from the distance he created. He opened his mouth to say something, shook his head to clear it, and instead walked away like he originally intended to do.

The metal door clanged shut, signalling that I had been left alone. The noise startled me to my senses and I quickly shrugged on Hayes' jacket. It was the only proof I had that the briefly positive, and civil conversation had even happened. My mind was now tangled with Hayes' fresh words and body language, and I desperately needed to work out how to interpret it all. Everything pointed towards him hating me, but he explicitly told me he didn't.

I decided to stay outside for one final cigarette in an attempt to clear my mind, not yet ready to pull on my showman persona for the people inside the club. I was ready to dismiss the whole conversation with Hayes as a failure, but then I pulled the jacket tighter around myself. I shared a small private smile with myself when I noticed it was still warm from him wearing it.

I promised myself there and then that if Hayes didn't turn up for my birthday, I would find another way of seeing him again. Queen's tour, nor Hayes' bark and bite, would be enough to bloody stop me.

_____

A/N-

Hope you all enjoyed!🤍

The next chapter will be a messy one, so stay tuned ahah.