F.M
Munich, Germany
November, 1984

"Hayes Agnes Griffith, are you asleep?"

Hayes didn't reply, because he was indeed conked out on a tattered leather couch in the production room of Musicland Studios. He had touched down in Munich a few hours ago, with bleary eyes and a weary smile that told me he was going to try and be nice. Hayes had decided to fly through the night in the hopes that he'd sleep on the flight, which never ended up happening of course. So here he was shattered, and here I was not letting him sleep.

"Hayes." I poked his jaw.

A five o'clock shadow dotted the space, and I quite enjoyed a more scruffy Hayes. His hair was still a little damp which caused a few locks to curl above his brow. After he settled himself in my apartment, Hayes insisted on freshening up and told me he would make his own way to the studio. It took him two hours to join me in the studios, and after fifteen minutes Hayes had bloody passed out.

"Freddie." He grumbled before cupping his hands over his face.

I may have been a little nervous about Hayes being here in Munich, so I forced myself to act excessively upbeat and chirpy in order to compensate. Munich was where everything went wrong, and I couldn't tell if that's all Hayes would now associate the city with. We were on goodish terms now, yes, but the situation between us was still a blurred line. Already today, he laid his suitcase in the spare room of my flat. Spare room, not my room. Was he trying not to be presumptuous? Hayes can fucking presume away because of course I want him in my bed.

"Is my musical process boring you?"

"How has your mind jumped to that conclusion?"

"Because you fell asleep."

Hayes lips reluctantly curved with amusement, "I apologise." He used the heel of his hand to rub at the corner of his eye.

"Just don't let it happen again." I poked at him once again, and he lazily swiped at my hand. "The boys are gone for lunch, you can't expect me to entertain myself."

"Oh no, how long have you been left unattended?" Hayes stood up slowly before he brushed his hands down along his dark jeans. "You've probably already laid down a track of grunts."

"No, don't worry." I threw him an innocent smile, "After Hot Space, I realised how much you loved the 'grunting', so I knew that you wouldn't want to miss it."

Before Hayes could even think about retorting, I had reached over to touch his elbow, "Right, you haven't eaten, let's get something."

Hayes cut me a look that suggested I was being overbearing, which I certainly was but I didn't let it stop me from taking him by the arm and leading him off to the canteen. I asked him several times did he want to go somewhere proper, and he waved me off. In the end, Hayes settled for a rather plain looking sandwich, and a pint sized bottle of some German pilsner. He had a notebook propped open in front of him that he scratched about in between small bites of his lunch.

"We'll go somewhere a little nicer for dinner."

"Stop fretting so much." Hayes murmured, throwing me another small look over his fallen glasses, "What's with all buzzing about?"

"I wouldn't say I'm buzzing about."

"You're practically a bee." Hayes cracked me a small lopsided grin, "What's wrong Freddie?"

I was still mortified by my little breakdown in front of Hayes after Summer's going away party. Looking back on it sober made me want to curl up and just cease to exist. I actually blubbered at Hayes when all of my pent up frustration towards our breakup seemed to spill out. The breakup I had bloody caused. Right now I was trying to keep my heart tucked under my sleeve just a little bit more, whilst also trying to make sure Hayes didn't think of what happened the last time he had visited me in Munich. It wasn't exactly the easiest balance to strike which probably explained my restlessness.

I ignored Hayes' question and pushed my chair closer towards him, "This isn't a work trip Hayes, well... not for you."

"What do you want me to do then?" Hayes chuckled before he flipped the notebook shut.

My mouth slacked open ever so slightly. Griff Kelly not acting like a massive stroppy diva when someone interrupts his writing? It suddenly dawned on me then that my version of Hayes was on full display again. It had been fucking months since I had been inside the walls that Hayes used to keep everyone else out. It wasn't a temporary stay, I didn't have to work to get there before being shoved out again. Best of all, he no longer looked like he may freeze my tits off if I reached out and touched him.

"I don't know exactly." I found myself shaking my head, "I didn't think you'd show."

Instead of getting offended like I half expected, Hayes merely cocked his head, "Well all I know is  that I was promised synthesisers."

Alright, I can certainly work with this.

I lay my hand down on Hayes' knee and patted it gently, "Then synthesisers you shall get."

Ten minutes later, I had Hayes sat out on a swivel chair alone in the production room. I decided to hit him with machine overload by first subjecting him to  'Let's Turn it On'. I was leant up against the mixing board with my legs pressed up against his knees. I was half afraid to check his expression so I kept my eyes glued to his rather snug fitting lilac, Henley shirt.

"Oh god," A chuckle rumbled from Hayes' chest, "I remember this. Let's turn it off." He glanced up at me, "You've really made a song of it then?"

Hayes didn't seem to violently loathe the song like I thought he might. Still, I stepped carefully. "You remember that?"

"Mhm," Hayes tapped his fingers along the desk, "It was one of the nights you attempted to osculate me."

"Osculate... I'll assume that means kiss based on the night in question." I scoffed a laugh at Hayes' purposely formal way of phrasing it, "And if I remember correctly, it was a successful attempt." You also initiated that particular kiss honey.

"Is that what you think?" Hayes' brow crinkled, "Well, whatever helps you sleep at night I suppose."

Before we could reminisce any further, Europe's top sound producer, Mack, strolled back in. Clearly he was ready to get back to work. He caught sight of Hayes sitting down and offered him a friendly smile. The last time Hayes had been in the studio it was for the Works, and I would not have been surprised if Mack left his wife for a chance to run away with Hayes so that they could speak in music code for all eternity.

"What do you think?" Mack asked Hayes, a hand gestured about to indicate the dance track which filled the room.

"Catchy."

I groaned, "Catchy doesn't mean anything from you."

"I'll reserve my options until the end, or until the album is released." Hayes murmured, "This is your project, I'm not saying a word."

Why is he being so bloody nice? "Too bad honey, I wanted an argument."

"Fine, the trousers you're wearing on this tour are awful."

I blinked as Mack stifled a laugh into his elbow before he went messing about with a few switches on the mixing board. Hayes stood up with a cheeky smile and I nudged him out into the sound booth.

"What's wrong with the outfit?"

"The white trousers -- tights -- whatever they are, not your best look." Hayes explained innocently, "You've worn all manner of tight clothing before, why you have chosen to show off every seam of your underwear now astounds me."

"And why are you paying such close attention to my seams Mr Griffith?"

"Because they look awful."

I ended up dragging a laughing Hayes down onto the piano stool beside me. We bickered playfully until he had me showing off a whole host of piano melodies which I had been keeping in my head. Many didn't have any lyrics to accompany them but Hayes had the mind of a musician, he could see potentials in a few raw chords without me having to explain. I had brought past lovers, partners, and friends to the studio before, they never got it. I never cared because I just liked the company, but now I had been spoiled by Hayes' presence. Anytime he was in the studio you could just tell he was fascinated with all of it.

"You really never wanted to be a musician?"

"No." Hayes chuckled, "But I think I may have like to have tried my hand at being a sound producer... back in the day."

"Back in the day." I repeated with a small scoff. He's only thirty-two, although he has the mentality of a disgruntled sixty-year-old.

"Mhm," Hayes gently let his fingers fall across the keys, "Back in the day."

"Right, well I could actually use your inner, suppressed music producer." I shouldered him gently, "I'm having trouble perfecting the lyrics on a particular song. I think you could help me."

Hayes continued to softly play a few simple chords, I noticed the clumsy tremble that often accompanied the action was now gone. He shook his head, "I doubt it. I don't want to interfere."

"I have been staring at the lyrics for too long, even when I take a step back I can't get the full picture." I explained with the wave of my hands, "I want perspective from a fresh set of eyes, and ears."

Hayes seemed reluctant, but eventually he nodded, "Alright, but don't expect me to be much help."

Curt Cress, the German drummer who had been with me for the entirety of the album, soon joined us. Fred Mandel, a regular Queen special guest on stage and in the studio, clapped hand on Hayes' shoulder once he recognised him. Only a very tight circle within the Queen camp knew about Hayes and I, but Fred seemed surprised to see him which led me to believe that we were more obvious than I thought.

"Fred," Hayes turned in his seat, "Have you joined Queen for many shows lately?"

"Yeah," Fred nodded, "I played a gig or two—"

"Great! What did you think of Freddie's spandex?"

"Don't fucking answer him." I cut in which had both Fred and Hayes chuckling, "We're going to run through 'Mr Bad Guy' whilst we have Hayes here, I'm sure the irony is not lost on anyone."

Hayes frowned as if deeply confused, "I don't get it."

"Don't you, Mr Beelzebub?"

"Mr Piss Off."

"Mr Shagbag."

Eventually, I got around to showing Hayes the Orchestral demo, and instrumental demo to Mr Bad Guy. Both of which he vaguely indicated were acceptable. I then gave him a better taste for the song by singing along my drafted lyrics with Fred and Curt backing me.

"You're trespassing, this is not okay. Wrong invitation, better not stick around my alleyway.
I'm Mr Bad Guy, yes, I'm everybody's Mr Bad Guy. Defend yourself, I bring catastrophe... oh, it's the only way to live from day to day."

Hayes worried his bottom lip in an outrageously distracting manner. Clearly he was not at all impressed by the tune and was trying to keep the fact to himself. "I liked the orchestral tape..."

"But?"

"I don't know, a lot of the lyrics don't fit like you said. The start is fine, but the chorus?"

"Go on, give it to me."

"It's giving me the sense of a pantomime villain from some seedy Off-West End production, which no one should ever aim for, even if being satirical."

I laughed, "Alright, so less Evil Step Mother in drag, and more Queen of the Night?"

Hayes glanced over at me, a lopsided smile appearing, "Yes, exactly."

"Her aria is brilliant in the Magic Flute."

Hayes nodded his agreement which I was extremely surprised by. "Back to you though, I think this song should be less 'stay away' and more 'come join me'. You've already warned people off of you in 'My Love is Dangerous'. Avoid being repetitive."

"Ah," I chewed on his words, "I can't say I'm surprised that you want me to be more 'come hither' in tone."

"I didn't say come hither."

"Your eyes did Hayes."

Hayes shut said eyes and looked away from me, which I couldn't help but cackle at. I stepped over and placed my hands on Hayes shoulders, before giving them a playful shake.

"Right, you can tell that most of the words are just awkwardly crammed in. I fucking love the general idea of it, especially the orchestral section, so I don't want to scrap the project. But it's just not working the way it is."

"If I understand it correctly, you're being tongue in cheek. Mr Bad Guy... is that referring to how you're portrayed in the media, and the song is sort of your way of embracing that title? Sorry, I know you lot hate to explain everything behind the song—"

"You have it exactly on the money." I waved my hand dismissively, "Dissect away, that's what I'm paying you for.

Hayes scoffed slightly at that, "Right. Well, you need to get rid of this "only way to live from day to day" line. That's non-negotiable..."

It was negotiable because about half an hour later when I ran with my newly edited version of the track, I kept those lyrics. Hayes can piss off, I like them.

"Don't look back on things from yesterday..." I sang, holding the messily scratched upon page out in front of me, "Don't be sorry, live another day, another way."

Hayes no longer looked like he had swallowed a lemon at my lyrics, but he also didn't look blown away by them either. I don't know if the latter reaction was even possible. What a bloody good sign it would be if I could ever provoke said reaction.

"Mr Bad Guy, yes, I'm everybody's Mr Bad Guy. Can't you see, this is my destiny. Oo- oh, it's the only way to live from day to day."

"For fuck sake." Hayes dragged his hand down along his face, upsetting his glasses.

"I agree with Hayes, it doesn't fit Freddie." Mack had leant over the soundboard to speak into the intercom.

"Well you would." I muttered childishly before I went back to the drawing board.

"I don't usually encourage saturating a song with rhymes, but you need it after "destiny"." Hayes mused, "Think of rhymes, and maybe less syllables. It's not flowing."

"Well where's your rhyming dictionary? I'm sure you carry it around with you in case of an emergency." I playfully patted about the front of his trousers, which caused him to have a small heart attack.

Some more time passed before my usual musical prowess shone through. I reached for my pen and scrawled down my new lyrics with a flourish. I suppose my cheeky intentions were written all over my face because Hayes took the page from my hand.

"Can't you see, this is my destiny..." I crooned "Oh, spread your legs and give your body to me—"

"No."

"Yes. It rhymes."

"No. Freddie. No."

Fred, Curt, and Mack had left by the time Hayes helped me have an actual breakthrough. My mind was drifting south anytime Hayes wrapped his lips around a bottle of Pilsner, so it was rather good that he piped up with an idea when he did. Otherwise nothing would have been done. Hayes plucked his glasses off of his nose before he tossed a hand through his hair. The gestures told me that his mind was working octuple time when it usually only ran at triple.

"It's a completely different vibe, but for some reason I can't stop thinking of Ringo's solo song 'I'm the Greatest'."

Who bloody says Ringo without adding the Starr part on the end? "I don't remember that one."

"How do you not remember that one? Lennon wrote it, and George featured on the track. It was the first time they worked on a song together since the Beatles broke up!" Hayes shook his head, appalled by my lack of music lore, "Anyway, that's neither here nor there, I just remember one of my colleagues at NME deemed it an uncomfortable self-parody."

"Uncomfortable because John Lennon wrote it, but Ringo Starr sang it?"

"Exactly," Hayes nodded, "There's all sorts of wry references to Ringo's rise to fame in it. Just the ironic embracing of one's apparent self is somewhat similar to what you're doing."

I simply stared at him, wondering how I ever accused him of hating music when he was clearly just so bloody passionate about it. I don't know how he has space in his mind for much else.

"You really don't know it?" Hayes shook his head with my silence, "Yes, my name is Billy Shears, you know it has been for so many years..." He softly alternated between humming and singing it.

I remembered the song immediately once Hayes jogged my memory, but a fucking spotlight went off in my head at the particular lyrics he had chosen to recite.

"I want my name in the song," I exclaimed excitedly, "Really give those fuckers who think I'm the world's greatest narcissist some ammunition. They thought 'We Are the Champion's' was egotistical? I'll do them one better."

Hayes' expression told me I had struck gold. Which is funny because he would remain forever iffy about the opening lines of the song: "Let's go chasing rainbows in the sky". It was midnight by the time I got the perfect take. The nice dinner I promised Hayes had never happened, but I don't think either of us really noticed. He genuinely enjoyed listening to me sing, he told me as much, and Hayes never gives compliments for the sake of them. It was difficult not to be cocky with that knowledge.

"I'm Mr Bad Guy. Yes, I'm everybody's Mr Bad Guy
Can't you see? I'm Mr Mercury... Oo-oh, spread your wings, and fly away with me."

I snuck a glance at Hayes who sensed that my attention had drifted to him and looked up at me with a faint encouraging smile.

"I'm Mr Bad Guy, they're all afraid of me."

Hayes was now carefully writing out the final lyrics on a new page for me, because the original draft was now completely unintelligible. Mack would no doubt frame the sheet when Hayes was done with it.

"I can ruin people's lives, yeah, yeah... Mr Bad Guy, they're all afraid of me! It's the only way to be."

Since I was on a roll, Hayes and I stayed in the studio for another couple of hours. As a result, I nearly ran through every concrete track that I had. From the ballads, to the dance tracks, to the tongue-in-cheek self reflections. By the end it, Hayes looked as though he couldn't blink without seeing a plethora of colours. Aside from that, I couldn't tell what exactly he thought of the whole thing.

"You really wrote this in the five minutes I was gone to get water?" Hayes chuckled as he leant up against the piano. He dropped his glasses down to read the lyrics of 'Love Me Like There's No Tomorrow'.

"Yes, I just really missed you honey." I cooed insincerely and skimmed the side of his thigh with my palm. Yes, the ballad had really been written in five minutes, sometimes a song just happens.

"What would have happened if I was gone for ten minutes?" He murmured as his eyes scanned across the page."

"Don't say something so awful."

Hayes rolled his eyes playfully, and we had some more easy laughs before we eventually decided to go back to my apartment.

I pulled the rockstar card and had Phoebe pick us up some food from a nearby hotel who were bribed handsomely for their services. Hayes had gone straight for dessert and was currently piling up whipped cream on a slice of apple strudel. In between sips of tea and delicate bites of the pastry, Hayes quizzed me on what the New Year would bring for Queen and I.

"Enough about those old slags." I declared grandly once I explained how the boys and I would be performing at a festival in Brazil. "What did you think of the album?"

"That it's a work in progress." Hayes replied neutrally.

"Oh come on, give me more than that." I prodded him impatiently, "Be honest."

A small sigh escaped Hayes at that, but he proceeded to meet my curious stare head on. It was so rare that he fully met my eyes anymore. Now though, his steely blue gaze rested on my face and didn't immediately dart away. He was treating me to a look that at one stage I had grown accustomed to. It was as if Hayes could see right through me, and was so absolutely fascinated by what he saw that he simply couldn't look anywhere else. At first I didn't realise that Hayes rarely gave anything or anyone such undivided attention, but once I did, I don't think I had ever felt so... significant.

"It's hard to describe really," Hayes murmured, shocking me completely, "It's encapsulating... so I suppose the whole thing is very you."

I don't know why I immediately took offence to that, but I did, "Alright," I huffed, "Fuck off then."

Hayes released a sort of disbelieving laugh at that, "Why would you think that's a bad thing? I happen to like you quite a bit, you know."

Oh. "Is that so?" I arched a brow as my mind furiously attempted to figure out what exactly Hayes meant by using the word "like".

"Yes," Hayes replied, his eyes finally fell from mine. He was not going to give away anything further.

Like? Bloody like? In general? As a friend you occasionally shag for the hell of it? As someone you've forgiven but won't bloody indicate as to whether you have or not? I wish I could open up that infuriating man's mind so I could see what was going on in there. I would have to dredge through several layers of Latin, but I'm sure I would find his thoughts of me in there somewhere.

"Although, your ellipsis drives me mad sometimes." Hayes said before he popped another bite of strudel into his mouth.

"My what?"

"'My Love is Dangerous'," Hayes explained, "There was absolutely no need for you to emit certain words. "You only make a mistake," could so bloody easily be "You'll only make a mistake", but you chose to go down the incorrect route. That's just one of many examples—"

"Hayes, I simply can't take it when you talk so filthily to me."

"I wasn't—" Hayes' eyes widened, "What?" The quickest way to shut him up is to simply scandalise him.

"You know exactly what you're doing, Lord Griff of Grammar."

"Freddie," Hayes sighed deeply, "Well I think you know what alliteration does to me."

Laughter took over my body at his deadly serious expression. Nothing should work about Hayes and I, but it does. It inexplicably does. When we were good, everything was just so easy and natural. No wonder I could never find love when I was always looking for someone who was nothing like Hayes. I never knew he was exactly what I needed until I found him, and was reminded of the fact once again when I lost him.

"Did Roger ever release his solo album?" Hayes asked suddenly. Music still on the brain.

"Yes," I nodded, "Its been out for a while, I'm surprised you didn't know that."

"It obviously didn't chart then." Hayes threw me an impish grin, "I'm a busy man, I only have time for the albums that chart."

We met each other's gaze, both of us obviously on the same bitchy wavelength. "I don't have the album, but I have taped the music video for one of Rog's singles."

Hayes was naturally suspicious, "That's very... supportive of you."

I tried to conceal my smile, "No, not really. Do you want to watch it?"

"What a question to ask. Of course I do."

Thanks to the transcendent 'Man on Fire' video, and my comment that "this is why we keep Roger chained begging a drum set" I caught sight of something that I never had before. Hayes was laughing so much that he couldn't breathe. By the second viewing, Hayes was actually tearing up with his face pressed into my chest. He tried to stop by scolding us both for being awful, but that only set us both off again. I couldn't say it aloud for fear of him stopping, but it was fucking adorable. It was quite obvious that Hayes had never laughed this much before.

All that excessive emotion must have over exerted the poor dear, because Hayes eventually fell asleep with his head on my chest and his arm draped around my waist. It wasn't long before I joined him.

Blondie's solo venture was good for something after all.

***

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
January 11th, 1985.

I had never seen Brian May so furious in all of my life.

In fifteen years I thought I had seen the extent of Brian's temper, from the petty squabbles over creative differences, to the freak out he had when Roger allegedly sprayed him in the eyes with hairspray. I realised now that those incidents had only scratched the surface of how pissed off Brian could get.

Everything paled in comparison to the absolute carnage Roger Taylor had caused by innocently placing a Scrabble tile down.

"No! Somebody get the fucking dictionary!" I demanded, "If I can't make up words than neither can you!"

"I didn't make it up!"

"Tell us what it means then Roger." Brian narrowed his eyes. His reign as Scrabble King was going up in flames, his intelligence was being dragged into question. Queen may break up. It's all too much.

Roger folded his arms, "I shouldn't have to explain myself."

"He doesn't even know." John murmured as he furiously flicked through the dictionary. "Why is he acting like he's won it!?"

"I do know how much it's scored us though," Roger cooed and plucked his sunglasses from his face. He then turned his grin to his teammate, "Just confirm it for me mate."

"Two hundred and forty three."

Brian looked as though he may jump over the table to knock Roger's smug grin off of his face. "Fancy that! Must be some type of record—"

"Oh don't act like you fucking won it all because of your own mind!" Brian growled, "If you didn't have Hayes, Freddie and I would've cleaned the floor with you!"

I snuck a glance towards Hayes who was trying to conceal his laughter. Of course Hayes was here for when Queen's scrabble record had been broken, Roger hardly bloody scored over two-hundred without a breathing Britannica beside him. Roger and I usually boosted our scores with small words that packed a punch, we were strategists. Brian then liked to come along with his fancy vocabulary on triple and double word score tiles and ruin everything. We had decided to play teams considering the amount of people crushed in around the table. Immediately Hayes was banned from Brian's team, and mine. Ratty joined forces with John, Brian and I made an obvious supergroup, which left Roger to snatch up Hayes.

"Bezique is a card game," Hayes fiddled with his skeleton-blue hue watch as if he were bored, "Nothing earth-shattering Brian."

I have never wanted to shag a man as desperately as I do right now.

"It's obviously just a card game Brian," Roger chimed in, savouring this moment, "Did you not know that?"

"No. I didn't, and neither did you!"

"Oh, didn't I?" Roger rose his brows, "Did I, or did I not, just fucking spell it?"

"I can't deal with you like this." Brian declared before he pushed himself out from the table, "I'm going to find Chrissie."

"Oh Brian," I sighed, "Don't feel bad, clearly Roger is just on fire."

Hayes caught my eye, a small smile threatened to break out before he put a stop to it. "You have to be made of sterner stuff Brian."

"Roger's clearly smokin', and burnin'."

Hayes arched a brow, "I dare say he's twisting, and turning."

Brian and John were now snickering as they waited for Roger to catch on to us taking the piss out of him It didn't take Roger long of course because when I looked back over at him, he was scowling.

"Alright fuck off."

"I showed him your solo album—"

"I gathered that Fred, thank you." Roger gazed sidelong at Hayes who purposefully wiped his expression of any and all emotion. "What did you think of it?"

Brian sat himself right back down at that question, instantly cooled off. You'd swear we weren't about to perform in front of a crowd of over a quarter of a million in less than two hours. After our intense rehearsals, a game of scrabble was probably the best way of calming our nerves before the show. Well, it was meant to.

"Well," Hayes hummed, "It was certainly a compilation of songs on one record to create an album, I'll tell you that much."

"Oh was it? Fucking cheers." Roger huffed, before he pushed himself out from the table and prowled off. Brian who was laughing softly, saw his opportunity to get Roger back for his smug behaviour a few minutes ago and soon followed after him. John glanced between Hayes and I, shot us a polite smile, and scurried off. Everyone else decided to busy themselves over at the refreshments table.

I took my opportunity to sit myself right back next to Hayes, still laughing when I called him a wanker. He merely furrowed his brow as if he couldn't possibly imagine why I would ever call him such a thing. Hayes had phoned me a few days ago to tell me that Rolling Stone were sending him out to Rio to write a story on the festival, and to try and interview a few of the acts. Naturally he pretended he was only phoning me to see if I could help him snag an interview with Rod Stewart. The phone calls were definitely more frequent, and I had seen Hayes a few times over the holidays. Unfortunately there was nothing too exciting to report.

"VIP and Press?" I tugged at the pass around his neck, "Look at you."

"The security here is so bloody strict that I actually have to wear it." Hayes grumbled.

In America, England and most parts of Europe, he got away without the pass or he flashed it once and no longer had to wear it around. Most of the time he simply dropped his name whilst keeping the pass tucked in his pocket as a last resort. Hayes didn't want anyone mixing him up with a super fan with VIP status. Perish the thought.

I laughed, "How is the write up going?"

"Not very well, that lead singer of Queen is keeping me hostage."

"What a selfish fucker."

"Yes, I have that written down." Hayes smiled before he tugged at his shirt in an attempt to air it out.

It was bloody sweltering here. Humid, hot and heavy. Add the stage lights and I'll probably keel over from heatstroke mid performance. I reached for a button on Hayes' white short-sleeved shirt, there were only four done up at the moment anyway, I'm just helping.

"If it's bothering you so much just take it off.
Nobody will complain dear, if they do, send them my way."

"Will you behave?" Hayes whispered and pushed my hand away, but he was obviously amused.

"I highly doubt it."

Hayes tutted, then noticed my gaze firmly fixed on his sweaty chest, and proceeded to do up few buttons. "That's it, I'm off to find the Go-Go's, perhaps I won't be objectified there."

Before I could comment that the exact opposite was more likely to happen with the girlband, a certain drummer beat me to it. Roger had changed into a pair of jeans and a white shirt that read "Worldwide Nuclear Ban Now" and was currently leant against the doorframe, sipping at a cup of water. Neither of us heard him reappear.

"Yeah, I'm sure four girls won't go mad at the sight of you." Roger scoffed, realised he said it aloud, that we would take the piss out of him, and immediately tried to back track.

As Roger stammered the word 'objectively' several times, Hayes patted his cheek in a condescending fashion on the way out of the room, "We'll continue this later."

Roger accused me of making Hayes into an even more arrogant twat than before, which led to some playful bickering. That was before our tour manager, Gerry Stickells appeared and told us that we needed to start getting ready. Brian had also walked in with his daughter Louisa in his arms, who John constantly provoked a fit of giggles from anytime he looked her way.

The next hour passed quickly in a swash of fabrics, hairspray, makeup, and chattering. We were all suffering from some nerves, but that was only natural for a crowd of this magnitude.

"How's your voice?" Brian asked because I had been struggling with on and off with nodules for months.

"It'll hold." I chuckled as Phoebe passed me a cup of honey and lemon tea. "I think I'm going to have start off with a falsetto for 'It's A Hard Life' though."

"Yeah," Roger nodded as someone fussed over his hair, "It's a fucking hard intro when you've already sang a few heavy tunes."

"It's so bloody hot." John complained as he did up the belt of his white boiler suit.

I mockingly tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for Ratty to do up my shoes. Brian told all of us about a project he had attended on the beach where a group of fans had spelt out 'Queen' with a series of lit candles. We had been the first big band to go over and give South America a show back in 81', so we knew we had a large following ready to see us again tonight. It was amazing to play stadiums where other artists avoided, the people here were as deserving of a show as anyone else.

It was nearing 2a.m, and we were only just about to go on to perform. Hayes reappeared just as I was swiping some eyeliner on. From his reflection in the mirror, I caught him throw me a smile, before his eyes dropped to the outfit he had teased me about in Munich. I was too busy concentrating on the task at hand to tell him to fuck off.

Roger and I began bouncing off each other's overexcitable energy as we readied ourselves to make the walk to the stage. Roger mimicked me whenever I gave my shoulders a shake, and I proceeded to mimic him whenever he warmed up his voice. I lingered towards the back of our entourage of stage crew, security, and management, so that I could say a quick, private, hello and goodbye to Hayes.

"Well," I turned to face Hayes, "I better get out there. Now as my groupie—"

In an irritatingly smooth manoeuvre, Hayes had managed to both shut the door to the dressing room, and push my back gently against it. His lips were on mine then, plush, warm, and a little frantic. My heart was already beating about excitably in preparation for the show, but Hayes had caused it to nearly come out of my chest. His hand glided over the thin fabric of my top, beneath my white jacket, which only caused me to melt further into the firm press of Hayes' body. I met the caress of his lips, brush for brush, and feared that every lyric and every note would be emptied from my mind as his tongue languidly swept against mine. As if we had all the bloody time in the world.

I felt Hayes smile against my lips as his fingers ran over the side of my thigh, "Those tights are still bloody awful."

Hayes kissed me again as I laughed, this time it was chaste, but unbearably tender. Jarringly so. I hadn't been kissed by him like that in what felt like fucking forever. It was like another shot of adrenaline straight into my chest. Hayes pulled away enough for me to turn and open the door. The cheeky bugger proceeded to murmur again my neck that the tights didn't look half as bad from the back before he once again pulled away completely.

I flung them door open to find almost the entire entourage making their way back towards us. I couldn't have been missing for more than a minute, but it looked as though they were about to send out a search party. I caught up to Roger and Brian, who both shot me a half amused smirk as if whatever caused my delay was glaringly obvious by my face. Without seeing him, I knew it was Hayes who briefly touched my back in passing. His ever soft yet raspy voice wishing me "good luck" just confirmed it. He dipped towards the wings, whilst I continued on walking towards the source of the increasingly deafening cheers.

Absolutely elated, and less jittery than when I first touched down in Rio, I was now ready to go out and conquer a stadium.

____

A/N—
Hope you all enjoyed this one!  Thank you so much for reading! 🤍