H.G
London, England
February, 1985

I woke up to the sensation of Freddie's lips at my shoulder, his arms tight around my waist, and his chest pressed firmly against my back. From the lazy trace of his thumb over my ribs, I assumed he was awake.

"Morning." I mumbled into the pillow, with a lazy smile no doubt stretched across my face.

It would appear that Freddie had been wide awake for a while, and was preparing to ambush me whenever I stirred. A fine strategy really. Not a fair one, but an effective one. Ever since the messy wedding that brought Freddie and I closer together, I had still managed to dodge any conversations that may drag up the past or allude to the future. I could tell it was driving Freddie crazy as the weeks went on, but he was in Munich most of the time, and would be off to Oceania next month, so it was easy to dodge him and his questions. It also helped that we weren't able to keep our hands off of each other for more than a few minutes at a time. No room for  serious conversations, not if I could help it.

"So they want you at New Music Express?"

I simply groaned in response, "Let me wake up first before you start badgering me."

"You seem rather awake to me." Freddie declared cheekily before he snaked his hand down low to confirm it. I sucked a sharp breath through my teeth as he teased his fingers up and down along me, "That's not the best indicator."

Freddie retracted his hand, only to rest it against my stomach once again. It would seem that he was going to try and stay on track this time for once. "And it's a definite no?" He asked, his hand slow and deliberate as it swept up and down my abdomen. "To NME?"

I blinked slowly in an attempt to adjust to the light streaming through a gap in the curtains. "Well, I have told them I'll think about it, hoping they'll find someone else in the mean time."

"And?"

"There's no way I would work for NME again, it's a joke."

Freddie seemed surprised by my words. I suppose I had never expressed any grievances about New Music Express before. "You really think that?"

I nodded, "The only way I would ever work there was if I could take it over, and change the whole formula. They're nothing more than a glorified tabloid, they may as well be the Daily Mail."

"I don't much care for the magazine." Freddie agreed, but of course he would, New Music Express were always awful towards Queen.

"I can't blame you." I rolled my eyes, "Tony Stewart is a prick."

The infamous "Is This Man a Prat?" article flashed in my mind. Internally and externally I felt myself bristle. Before I knew Freddie it rubbed me up wrong, but knowing Freddie, it pissed me off to no extent. I slowly turned over to glance at Freddie who had a small scowl stretched across his face now that he was thinking of the journalist in question. I reached over to tangle my fingers in his dark hair and he immediately smiled at the gesture.

"Anyone with a brain could see Tony's personal biases saturated the article." I grumbled, "Some journalists even change their own words after an interview in an attempt to appear clever. Not me, of course, I'm just naturally brilliant."

"Of course."

Journalists have the benefit of choosing how to interpret people's words. We control the narrative, and the context. A celebrity has given up their words and we can either produce sour milk with those words or go with the fresh cream they've provided. Most choose to do the former because it makes for a better read.

"I admit, I probably was a little pissy with him." Freddie murmured, "He wrote that scathing review of our Hamburg show beforehand. Apparently I was using Queen's shows as a "vehicle for my narcissism", or something like that."

"I would have been pissy too." I found myself chuckling, "Want to hear the story of how you almost got me fired?"

Freddie blinked those inky lashes at me, "What?"

"Indirectly." I added with a sheepish smile.

Freddie nodded, quite intrigued, "Go for it."

"Alright, do you remember an interview with Julie Webb? I think it was after Queen released 'A Night At the Opera'."

"Vaguely." Freddie replied as he gently swiped a thumb over my chin.

"Right, well the interview itself wasn't bad. I actually think Julie was rather taken with you, she wouldn't shut up about meeting you for days." I decided to leave out the detail where I was originally meant to interview him, and pawned it off on Julie.

Freddie's lips twitched, "Well of course she was taken with me, I'm fabulous."

I laughed softly at that, "Yes, yes, anyway, one of the editors changed Julie's original heading. The title they went with in the end was "The Limp-Wrist Section". Then as a subheading it read "Please read with a camp accent, stressing every second word"."

"Oh yes," Freddie laughed softly, "I remember it now... And you took issue with it?

"I know as far as article headlines go, it's not the worst you have seen, but I remember being really pissed off by it. I didn't know you at all, or I wasn't an avid Queen listener, but I could easily see that NME had put a target on your back just as the band was getting successful."

I wasn't exactly a fan of Freddie, or Queen at all back then, but the way NME treated any sort of camp man used to irritate me to no extent. Of course it made sense now why I used to find myself rubbed up wrong by the magazine's attitude towards men like Freddie, or Elton John, etcetera. I also despised how some journalists commented on personalities, or physical attributes when speaking about a musician. Unless they've committed a crime, just bloody focus on the music.

"Yes, Queen was a little over the top back then, but "The Limp-Wrist Section" as a title with a picture of you underneath? I know for a fact that most people only read article headings, so thousands of people saw that and not the interview itself. NME just wanted people to glance at it, assume you were gay, and then judge your music based on that. It was absolutely ridiculous."

Freddie was staring at me with a sort of smug curl to his lips, but I continued on, "Anyways, when I saw that heading it was a tipping point, I went straight home to my flat, and ranted away to Jules about how much I bloody hated working at NME."

"My god, NME were up the ass of the punk music scene at that time weren't they? You were probably going insane."

"I was going insane." I nodded my head, "But NME was the most popular magazine in Britain and I was an arrogant little sod that needed to be a writer there, even if I couldn't stand the people or the content. So, I told Jules what a plonker Nick Logan was— he was editor at the time— after seeing that headline for your interview."

"Knowing you..." Freddie trailed off with an amused smile.

"... I said something, yes. Julian asked "what good is it telling me what a plonker Nick is?" So naturally, I went back to work, told Nick he was a plonker, amongst other things, and we had a rather nasty row."

"How did you bloody get away with that?" Freddie shook his head, his thumb now swept over my collarbone.

"Well, I was temporarily fired," I admitted with a sheepish smile, "But er, I sort of had friends in high places that wouldn't allow me to be let go. Anyways, I was a difficult twat to Nick for years, and he left NME in 78'."

"You left in 78' too, didn't you?"

Freddie's question was innocent, purely curious but it threatened to drag up a whole host of feelings that I had buried in a shallow grave long ago. I left NME because I needed to get out of England, and I needed to get out of England for many unsavoury reasons.

"Mhm," I averted my gaze, "I did, and don't intend on going back."

Freddie appeared rather dejected by my absolute refusal of this job offer. "Alright, so NME is out, but what about all of those other job offers? I think that television programme would be brilliant for you."

"Oh I don't know."

I should have realised that Freddie's intense interest in my career was his non-subtle way of trying to figure out if I would ever move back to London. My England-phobia had been a point of contention between Freddie and I before, but this time I could see that it was my fault. London was where Freddie planned to ground himself, and I wasn't even open to discussing how things would work if I planned on staying on in New York. I wanted to be wherever Freddie was, I really did, but permanently settling in London was a frightening prospect to me.

"I don't know if I could have all those people looking at you though." Freddie took the conversation down a less precarious road, "The camera would be stuck to your ass the entire time."

"Yes..." Freddie pondered his words quite seriously for a moment before he nodded slightly, "That would be brilliant television."

My brows pinched together, "So you wouldn't be tuning in for my dazzling wit, or my astute observations?"

"My god, no." Freddie's hand snaked over my hip before he gently patted my arse, "I barely ever listen to you dear, it's just white noise whilst I objectify you."

I sighed glumly, "On some level, I always knew that."

"Hm?" Freddie pretended to be distracted as he pressed a kiss over my cheekbone.

It wasn't long before I ended up beneath the duvet with my lips wrapped around Freddie, and his hands tangled in my hair. Freddie's breathless moans provided a very nice soundtrack to my morning. Well, that was until that incessant bloody bell kept going off.

A buzzer sounded, that I should've recognised as the doorbell, but was too wrapped up with... Freddie. I don't think the sound registered for Freddie either because he kept his fingers tightly fisted in my hair as my lips moved up and down along his arousal. My own fingertips scratched over the exerted muscle from his taut abdomen, as I savoured the way his lashes sunk low over his eyes to watch me feverishly.

With a few languid strokes of my tongue, Freddie released himself along with making my name sound like the filthiest word I had ever heard. I swallowed thickly as Freddie's delirious gaze followed the movement with intense interest before he propped himself up against the headboard.

Just as Freddie impatiently motioned for me to join him the buzzer sounded again. "For fuck sake."

"A fan?" I asked as I struggled to get untangled from the duvet.

"Oh shit!" Freddie sat up as if doused in ice cold water,  "That's Kashmira. I invited her over— we're going to lunch. I fucking forgot all about it."

"Your sister!?"

"My sister!"

From there it was a mad dash to get dressed, whilst we worked on a cover story. When I ended up in Freddie's petite shirt and he ended up almost tripping over my too-long slacks, we forced ourselves to settle down and take a breath. We soon agreed our jobs perfectly explained away my presence, whilst Freddie attempted to smooth down my hair as we half tumbled down the stairs.

"I'll see you later." I placed a small peck to Freddie's lips.

"You don't have to leave," Freddie kissed me briefly, but we forgot ourselves and it turned into slow and heated affair before the doorbell snapped us out of it once again.

"I'm meeting Jules, it's fine. I'll be over again tonight." I murmured and gave his waist a final squeeze before pulling away completely.

"Well thank you very much dear," Freddie cooed as he flung the door open, "I hope you got everything you needed."

"I was a little unsatisfied near the end," I said monotonously before I slotted my hand into Freddie's and gave it a firm shake. "So we may need to iron out those details at a later date."

"Mhm," Freddie was trying to keep a laugh at bay when he turned to face his sister, "Oh! Kash, I didn't realise you were popping over today, this is—"

"Bloody hell." Kash half squeaked the second our eyes met. I cracked her my most charming smile, and she simply repeated herself, this time it was through a soft sigh.

"My god." Freddie muttered as his sister began clumsily apologising to me. "This is Hayes Griffith, he's a journalist for that American magazine, Rolling Stone. He's just leaving."

Even if I didn't know the young lady was Freddie's sister, it would have been immediately obvious that they were related. Both of them had those highly animated deep brown eyes, and a smile that was infectious, even to the likes of bitter old shrews like me.

"Nice to meet you, Mr Griffith." Kash murmured, and ingrained manners had me offering my hand out to her even when Freddie was trying to rush me away.

"The pleasure is all mine, miss...?"

I ignored Freddie when he rolled his eyes up towards the grey sky. When his sister returned to a rather flustered state, due to my arched brow and a prompting squeeze of her hand, Freddie proceeded to cut me a small look that said 'oh come on'.

"Cooke." Kash finally answered with small smile, "I'm Freddie's sister."

"Oh, I don't believe that. You look far too young to be—"

"Alright, piss off, you've got what you wanted." Freddie attempted to shoo me off as I bit back my laugh.

"Wait, are you the one who pushed Freddie through the table a few years ago?" Kash asked just as I was about to turn away.

Freddie's eyes popped open for a moment before he took hold of Kash's shoulders, "We can't keep Terry waiting, look at him, bored senseless in the car. We have a reservation to make—"

"I don't believe I was the one who pushed Freddie, no. Is that how he tells the story?"

"Of course not!" Freddie whipped the door of his towncar open before Terry could get out himself, "You really are holding up our plans Kash, so let's just get in—"

"I'm holding up our plans?" Kash exclaimed as Freddie half wrestled her in to the car, "I was ringing the bell for—"

The door slammed shut.

"I pushed you did I?"

Freddie cracked me an innocent smile, that seemed to say "I'll see you later." I returned the smile with an amused shake of my head before we went our separate ways for the day.

***

The second I walked into 'Smokey's Bar' off Regent Street in Soho, I was both bowled over by the Jam's catchy 'The Eton Rifles', and by a tight hug from Julian.

"Good god," I groaned playfully, but let the embrace happen, "It's been two weeks."

"I don't know what you're bloody up to in New York." Jules sighed as he tugged me towards the bar for a drink, "You could even have friends on the side over there for all I know."

Smokey's wasn't explicitly a gay bar, but it's clientele was 80% gay men, so make of that what you will. The other 20% were innocent people who wandered in and enjoyed the high-end decor, and luxurious feel of the place. In my opinion, whoever chose the music was trying to drive every demographic from the place, because now I was listening to Wings' 'I've Had Enough'. Yes, Paul McCartney walked right into that review title. And yes, he tried to ban me from Christmas dinner that year.

I took in Jules' shiny mop of golden curls, casual attire, and usual sunny grin and found myself smiling right back. I ignored the the more prominent hollows in his cheeks, and the dark circles beneath his eyes, because that could all be explained away in my mind by him overworking himself. A mind that once perfected the art of denial.

"Friends on the side?" I turned up my nose, "Never." I brushed a hand over Jules' back, "Now what are we drinking?"

We settled into a gaudy burgundy booth a few minutes later with a bottle of obscenely priced scotch. Julian murmured something about wanting to splurge when I scolded him for whipping out his wallet. I was also currently wearing the mind-bogglingly expensive Piaget watch he had got me for my birthday as a further reminder of his out of character frivolous spending. Another thing I noticed and ignored.

"How's work been? Awkward I would imagine." Julian asked before taking a tentative sip of his drink.

"I have been doing my best to avoid James, if that's what you're getting at." I winced at the thought of James' wounded expression every time I bolted when he entered a room. Is it my fault he got the wrong idea after I slept with him for a few weeks? What was I meant to do? Talk to him?

"In his defence, you sort of led him on—"

"Don't start Saint Wright," I grumbled before taking a hearty gulp of the malty liquor. "I'm back with your man of choice, lets not focus on the collateral."

"Mhm, I'm planning the wedding as we speak. I've already discussed it with Freddie, we thought he'd be fooling no one in a white gown."

I snorted a laugh at that image before we launched into a proper chat. A proper chat for Jules involved him speaking about his daughters for an abnormally long period of time whilst I let him chatter on about his family. That soon segued to reminiscing about the flat we had in Chelsea when we finished university, where we recalled the same set of stories for the millionth time. We found ourselves funny, which was the main thing.

I lasted about two hours before I could no longer ignore my craving for nicotine.

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?

"I need a cigarette," I murmured, "Want to join me?"

"You don't want to sit and listen to the lovely, soothing voice of your beau?" Julian blinked his lashes up at me.

I scoffed, "Ever since I met him, that bloody song plays a hundred times more than usual."

We I stood up, not thinking much of it when Julian used my arm to help hoist himself up along with me. He kept his hand wrapped around the crook of my elbow as he tried in vain to convince me to give up cigarettes once and for all. Once we stepped out back and into the night, I made a show of lighting the cigarette with my back to Jules, who huffed dourly. Freddie's voice still filtered through the shitty door, and I found myself wanting to get back to him.

I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy.

I glanced toward Julian who appeared rather cold despite of his several fleecy layers. I took a long drag of my cigarette before leaning up against his shoulder, hoping to give him a little more warmth. Jules cleared his throat and at the irritated sound, I found myself immediately crushing the cigarette against the brick behind me. The last few weeks he had dropped an alarming amount of weight, and it was obvious it was because he could barely swallow a drop of water never mind attempt to eat food. We both pretended like I didn't notice.

"Another cold, I suppose?"

Julian scrubbed a hand over his face but opted not to reply to my accusatory question. I don't even know why I let it slip out, or where it came from. I didn't exactly know what I was accusing him of either.

Mama, just killed a man. Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead.

Julian's hand slipped over my wrist, his grip comfortable and familiar. I kept my gaze set dead ahead, refusing to acknowledge the way I could feel him looking at me.

Life had just begun, but now I've gone and thrown it all away.

"Just tell me that everything's alright, Jules." I murmured. "Please, I just need to hear it." All of a sudden chest became tight, and I lifted my free hand to try help massage a breath from my lungs.

Didn't mean to make you cry. If I'm not back again this time tomorrow...

Julian sighed, and it was a somewhat guilty sound. "I can't tell you that Hayes."

Carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters.

"Oh," I nodded unable to accept that fact that had been laughing at me for bloody months, "Right. Okay. Sophia? The kids, are they—"

"They're fine." Julian slowly covered my hand with his. A thumb continued to gently brush against my wrist, that seemed to say "And you'll be fine too."

Too late, my time has come.

"Divorce? Relocating? Is that it? You can't leave that poor girl," I began to ramble out all sorts of nonsense, "I know you and Soph aren't exactly a typical arrangement, but you have to stay around for the kids."

Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time.

"No, it's nothing like that Hayes." Julian chuckled softly.

I chanced a glance at him only to take in his tight smile. Once Jules realised that he was caught in my gaze, that smile turned even more fragile. His hopelessly sad eyes had me pulling myself away from him.

Goodbye, everybody, I've got to go... gotta leave you all behind and face the truth.

"I have been trying to tell you for months now but I just..." Julian shook his head, "You were just— you've been through so much— I didn't want to add to it all."

I don't want to die. I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all.

"Then don't. I'm sure whatever it is will work itself out." My hand squeezed his shoulder, "I might be moving back to England you know. We can be exactly like we once were." Before I ruined it.

"It won't work itself out." Julian shook his head slowly, "I thought it wouldn't progress into... it's not— it's not good Hayes."

I attempted to focus on the plethora of colours conjured up by the song in the background and not the words falling from Julian's lips, nor the tears brimming in his eyes. The mini explosions of colour were incandescent and disorientating, but they helped to drown out the world around me.

Spare him his life from this monstrosity.

"Hayes, are you listening?"

A particularly vibrant pulse of violet held my attention due to the timbre of Freddie's voice layered in over itself. I fixated on it as if it were my first glimpse of land after I had been lost at sea.

We will not let you go— let me go.

A palm gently rested against my cheek, "Hayes, please listen."

Will not let you go.

"I can't." My voice seemed to ring out from somewhere in the distance. "Julian please, I can't." I shook my head quickly, "Don't do this to me." The words were selfish, but Julian saw through all that to the crippling fear at the core.

"Last year, the doctors, scientists, whoever," I found myself rambling as I pulled away from his grip, "They- they discovered that someone gets a virus first, and that it's only dangerous if it develops into—"

"—AIDs."

"Yes, that." I brushed over the word because it simply didn't need to apply to Julian. Jules was young, fit, and a father, he simply couldn't be hopelessly ill. It wouldn't make sense. It wouldn't be fair.

"So if you have this virus, this HIV, well, you've caught it in the early stages."  I reasoned despite of Julian's slowly shaking head, "I'm sure there's all sorts of ways to stop it from every developing into anything worse."

"Hayes," Julian's gaze forced itself upon mine as he gave his head a brief shake. My breath caught in my throat when I saw every extreme of emotion clash over his face. Fear, guilt, rage, and acceptance. From the sad smile he offered my way, it was clear he wanted me to accept his fate too. It had already developed, it was AIDs.

"I'm getting treatment," Jules assured me, "And who knows, maybe it'll work?" His tone suggested that he didn't believe his own words, and was just trying to comfort me.

I was too aware of mortality at that moment, Julian's and my own. He may die from this awful illness, and I wasted four years that could have been spent with him, wallowing in New York. Wasting time seemed to be a speciality of mine, what with the decades of trying to smother my true self, the years of ignoring Julian, even the months I had recently wasted by not letting Freddie back into my life. Waste. It was all a fucking waste.

The weight of this knowledge threatened to crush me, so I quickly sought to push any such adverse thoughts down with everything else that once threatened to cause me pain. Only it seemed that I had nowhere to hide the gut-wrenching feeling of finding out that Julian was ill. I was filled to the fucking top with painful experiences, and I simply couldn't force another one down.

I didn't know how to appropriately react to Julian's news, so I chose to alternate between every possible response in rapid fire succession. I went down the logical, cold, clinical, damage control route first, where I assured him that I would bloody finically support his family if anything happened. As if that's what Jules was fucking worried about right now. Then I felt betrayed that he hadn't told me sooner, that he only put so much pressure on me to get back with Freddie because he was planning on leaving me. Betrayal immediately turned to guilt, and I apologised repeatedly for reacting so horribly.

I tried numbing myself but it didn't work. A siren now continuously sounded in my mind, warning me to bolt or face emotional disintegration. I wanted to run from this, like I did everything else.

Julian sensed this, could read my mind as if it was laid out in front of him. "Don't do it Hayes, please."

So I didn't. Not this time.

***

I don't know how long I sat out on the steps leading up to Stafford Terrace, but I doubt I would have ever had enough time to pull myself together before seeing Freddie.

Ever since Julian told me to go 'home', to Freddie, everything had been unravelling around me. My mind had began to randomly assault me with images I had thought long forgotten about. I quickly discovered that what I deemed scars were just hastily stitched up wounds, and that the news of Julian's illness was the catalyst to tear them all back open.

My memories and feelings didn't come to me in chronological order, they didn't follow any strict pattern, their only goal was to make me aware of how much of my life I had thrown away needlessly. It was a terrifying fact to be made aware of, that you wasted beyond the majority of your life, and that you could never quite make up for that time lost. Almost as terrifying as the fact my friend may die from an illness that people don't care enough to cure.

A series of 'ifs' began to mock me when the clouds over London predictably began to weep. If only I hadn't reacted with horror when Julian once expressed that he loved me, I could have been happy years ago. Or if only I acknowledged the depth of my feelings towards Freddie in the beginning, it would have saved him from my awful behaviour. Maybe if I had just let Freddie comfort me after my family ripped me to shreds, he would have never been pushed towards someone else, and I wouldn't have wasted the past year keeping myself away from him. I knew it wasn't a healthy path to keep winding down, but I couldn't help myself.

When I could no longer blink the rain from my lashes or keep my teeth from chattering, I forced myself to take shelter in Freddie's home. It was a genuine effort to drag myself up the stairs, towards the source of Freddie's prodigious piano playing. I would just force a smile, melt against Freddie's shoulder and try sort my head out at some other stage. I would tell him about Jules when it wasn't quite so raw, and I wouldn't fall apart.

I leant up against the doorframe and attempted to brush my drenched hair from my face. I always believed that if I appeared well put together on the outside, it would serve to help me feel that way on the inside. Or at least give me the illusion that I was holding it all together with the loop of a tie.

"Hayes!" Freddie turned on his piano stool to flash me a small smile, "I was getting tired of waiting for you."

Any response to that seemed to lodge in my throat. I couldn't bring myself to partake in our usual back and fourth. I could barely stand without the aid of the doorframe. I don't know how I thought I could attempt to push everything that had hurt me over the span of my life back down into a space that refused to hide it anymore.

It was all too much.

"Hayes?" Freddie coaxed softly before he peeled himself away from the piano. "Are you alright?"

I could hear it in his voice, and see it in his face that Freddie was experiencing an awful bout of deja vu. We had been here before. The last time I had hit rock bottom, I was packing my bags in his home and readying myself to flee. Freddie looked terrified that history may repeat itself.

"I can't—" I shook my head slowly, "I can't do it anymore."

Freddie took a careful step toward me, my hollow whisper was difficult on my own ears but looked to be physically painful to Freddie. "Can't do what Hayes?"

"Any of it." My voice was fragmented, "I can't... I can't Freddie. It's all too much— all of the time." A sharp inhale cut through my words "I just can't do it Freddie."

Freddie's touch was featherlight when he raised his hands up to rest either side of my shoulders. When he pulled me close, I felt myself just crumble completely.

"What happened Hayes?"

My body gave up trying to hold itself upright, and I felt myself slump down. All my energy was focused on holding onto Freddie but I was collapsing fast. Freddie didn't attempt to force me to stay upright, not even when my knees pressed into the floor and I kept my face buried against him. He simply sank down onto the floor with me, and pulled me close.

"Julian," Was all I managed to croak, and Freddie seemed to understand immediately. He also understood that this episode wasn't strictly about Julian.

"Oh Hayes," Freddie sighed against me, "I'm so sorry."

From his tone, it would seem Freddie had guessed that Jules was sick a long time ago. I should have acknowledged it myself, but couldn't bring myself to. When would I fucking learn not to bury my head in the sand? I felt hot tears of frustration prick at my eyes before I desperately tried to force them back. It was then that the pain overtook frustration and those tears attempted to escape through the lashes I had now clamped shut.

As Freddie's steady hand ran up and down my back, I realised that I didn't need to hold it all in, not for his benefit. Freddie was comforting, he was stable, and I needed to just accept that he was there for me.

At that revelation everything came crashing down.

"No, I'm sorry." My breaths were alarmingly shallow as I tried to hide my face further into his chest, "I'm so sorry Freddie."

Freddie continued to smooth his hand over the back of my head but I needed him to hold me closer than physically possible. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I'm sorry." I repeated my voice breaking, "I love you. I'm sorry that I was so— I love you." And I wasted so much time by not saying it.

"I know baby," Freddie whispered into my hair.
"It's okay, I know." He reassured me and pressed his lips to my temple.

"I wasted so much time." Once I voiced this aloud, the tears had no choice but to flow freely, "I wasted your time. I'm so fucking sorry."

Despite of how tightly I had dug my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, Freddie managed to pull away ever so slightly. "You didn't waste my time, not a single second Hayes. I promise you that."

I refused to let those words land, instead I repeated apology upon apology, whilst I tried to make up for all the times I didn't take the opportunity to tell Freddie that I loved him before by doing so now. Every one of my breaths caught, which was extremely rare around Freddie, but I suppose his presence had its limits.

"I don't know if I can keep going— I'm so tired of it all." A sob threatened but I cut it down in its tracks.

I didn't know what 'it' was at that exact moment. Julian, my family, my life, Freddie, everything. In that moment it all hurt.

Freddie appeared to know exactly what it was, because he lifted his palm to cup my cheek gently, and looked at me as though he understood every thought, light or dark, that had ever crossed my mind. I brusquely went to swipe at my tears but Freddie beat me to it with the soft caress of his fingertips.

"You can keep going, because look how far you've gotten on your own." Freddie's thumb continued to circle my cheek, "And I know I may not have made it clear in the past, but I'm always going to be there to keep pushing you forward."

It was a simple statement, but spoken with absolute conviction.

"What was it you said to me once? That you needed to pull yourself into the semblance of some sort of secure man before you let yourself near me? Disregard the motive, but do you remember wanting to get to a secure place?"

I scoffed slightly at that, because I certainly wasn't masquerading as any such man right now, this weepy display was pathetic. This line of thought earned me a scolding glare from a telepathic Freddie.

"Do you know how amazing it was to watch as you became acquainted with and grew comfortable with yourself? To see you embrace the sides of yourself that I loved before you even allowed yourself to acknowledge them? You've been through it all Hayes, and those experiences have made you into that secure man, but it's not a semblance, it's real."

"You'll start quoting 'My Way' next." I found myself grumbling before I even knew I was making the little comment.

The little comment I could only make because Freddie had helped me to breathe again.

I almost smiled when Freddie blew out an exasperated breath, and tried to hide that his own lips had split into an amused grin. It was clear though that seeing me so pained was rough on him from the glassy shine in his dark eyes. His absolute and unconditional care was still rather jarring.

"I won't resort to that quite yet." Freddie murmured. "But I might if you're not careful."

I sniffled and did my best to return his smile, but couldn't manage it just yet. At that point we were still on the floor, our legs half tangled, and my body cradled against Freddie's chest. If he was uncomfortable he made no effort to move us.

"I know you're terrified by Julian being sick, and that it's brought up a lot of things," Freddie sighed deeply, "I just truly believe that the man you are now can handle it... and if you think you can't, I'm going to be here to help you through, darling. You don't have to try make it on your own."

A fresh set of tears blurred my vision when Freddie continued to reassure me that no time had been wasted, not my own, and certainly not his. That every year I thought thrown away, had led me here, to someone no longer terrified of their sexuality, to someone who wasn't afraid to love Julian, or someone who no longer hid themselves away from the half of family that cared for them.

"You weren't wasting your time, you were just biding it." Freddie said softly into my hair.

Those words in particular seemed to be some sort of miraculous salve that temporarily eased my pain. It made the thought of living anywhere but London, with him, seem ridiculous. I had been biding my time, and it paid off. I met Freddie, and now I have to keep a hold of him.

"Until I met you?"

"I wasn't..." Freddie gave his head a brief shake, "I wouldn't say that—"

"I would." I said firmly.

I felt Freddie's lips twitch upward into a small smile at that and for a brief second I felt much better, like I could indeed handle anything if I had Freddie to fall back on.

Even though I felt as though I was shattered into a series of jagged pieces that night, Freddie had still managed to hold me together.

We talked for hours that night, about everything and anything. The unadulterated truth of what happened on Christmas Eve had Freddie ripping with anger, and tearing up with guilt. We talked about how it all went wrong, and how we could make it all right. I spoke of Julian and I's relationship, the good, bad and ugly parts. I don't think I had ever bloody talked so much in my life, especially not to someone who listened as intently as Freddie.

Of course talking had helped, but it didn't magically make me feel ready to go out and face the next day. I didn't sleep a wink, not when all I could think of was Julian's illness, and Freddie's perspective of what happened a year ago in Munich. What Freddie had helped me to get over was the silly notion that I had wasted time, which was a fear that had nipped at my heels ever since I could remember. I much preferred his way of looking upon my life.

That I had just been biding my time until I found the person who would help me learn to cherish it.

I looked a right bleary eyed wreck that next morning. No sleep and an intense spout of crying had left my eyes cracked with red, and my voice hoarse. Freddie immediately suggested a walk, ignoring me when I grumbled something about not being a dog. I hadn't managed so much as a smile, or chuckle since yesterday, and I think it was starting to get to Freddie.

So as we walked about Kensington, Freddie decided to weave a few tales about the sorry state he was in once we split. I think he embellished these stories a great deal, because there was no way he had a breakdown over a Barry Manilow record, nor did he throw out his knee in a fight with the Munich friends I may have slept with when I was feeling just a little petty.

"Did you really take Dorothy back?"

"Yes, I certainly did." Freddie huffed in his measly disguise of a baseball cap and aviators. "The poor dear, she lives with Mary now."

"And you actually expect me to apologise to her?"

"I really think it's the least you could do." Freddie murmured. I found myself squinting in order to make out the residential street sign once we veered off off Earl's Court Rd.

"Yes, I'll draft up a letter of apology as soon as possible." I waved a dismissive hand, "Why do I recognise this area?"

"Logan Place?" Freddie smirked, "I bought a big sod off mansion here, remember?"

When my gaze took in the big sod off mansion in question that somehow fitted neatly behind a set of high walls, the fact did indeed come back to me. Freddie took a quick glance around before he caught hold of my elbow and brought us right up to the main entrance.

"The renovations are essentially done," Freddie explained, "I wanted to show it off to you before I need to leave for Munich again." He leant against the wall to reach for the keypad.

I simply nodded, "What's the code?"

"That information is classified, my dear."

I watched Freddie's expression turn sheepish as he pressed at the numbered buttons, only to reveal my birthday. Ordinarily, I may have taken the piss out of this, but instead I found myself touched by the fact. The man was so naturally endearing, it must by bloody taxing.

"Simply a coincidence, don't let it get to your head." Freddie huffed playfully.

"Like always having a clock on New York time?" My lips wanted to smile but it was too much effort just yet.

"Exactly. I'm not very good with numbers, honey." I felt his fingers slot between mine before he dragged me in the large green gate.

I had seen the property once before, in the evening, when Freddie had only recently bought it. Seeing Garden Lodge in daylight was an entirely different experience. Especially now that I could see the freshly sown garden, vivid and flourishing in the spring air.

I could feel Freddie watching me, gauging my reaction as our shoes crushed along the gravel path leading up to the front door. "I love the bay window." I offered uselessly, feeling a little overwhelmed.

As if sensing this, Freddie gave my hand a small squeeze, "C'mon, I'll give you the personal tour. Would you prefer clothes on or off?"

A laugh escaped, only to be stopped by my closed lips. "Start with clothes on, and see how you progress."

Freddie nodded as he fished out a key, "Alright, I'll keep my grand reveal a surprise."

After growing up in a rather large manor myself, I half expected Garden Lodge to fall into the same pit traps that most mansions fell into. Large houses often appeared like museums, drafty, and lifeless. Of course they were beautifully decorated but never failed to give one the sense of a 'you can look but not touch'. Somehow, Garden Lodge, which had not even be lived in yet since it's redecoration, avoided any such issues.

A house doesn't necessarily make a home, but Freddie and Mary certainly pulled out all the stops in order to make it just that: a home. As Freddie showed me about, I could honestly envisage him living there. Every sumptuous inch of the home had Freddie written all over it, and the pride in his voice as he spoke about it was well deserved.

Once Freddie exhausted himself by making all the the double entendres possible in the master bedroom (and en-suite), I thought the tour had concluded. But Freddie had one more feature to show off.

"Okay, and this is the minstrel gallery." Freddie sat down and let his back rest against the polished balustrade. The gallery overlooked the grand hall below, which made for a perfect space to oversee all the comings and going in such a house.

Freddie patted the place beside him animatedly, but his dark eyes revealed his nerves. I don't exactly know what the man was nervous about but I decided to quickly put him out of his misery. I pulled my trousers up slightly, to prevent any creasing of course, and sat myself down beside him.

"When I have the most lavish parties, you and I can sneak up here to keep an eye on things, and have a good bitch about our guests. You'll love it."

A small smile threatened at the thought, "Will I?"

Freddie chuckled, "Well you'll at least tolerate it."

I nodded slowly, before I turned my head to look at him properly. Freddie was staring at me unabashedly with his lovely warm gaze and my body automatically leant in closer to him until we were shoulder to shoulder. I loosely threaded my pinky through his and finally managed to crack him a lopsided grin.

"So I'm invited to all of these wild parties then?"

"Not so much an invite, you'll be unofficial co-host."

"Unofficial co-host?" I continued toying with his pinky.

"Mhm, if you move back to London I would assume that you'll want to rent out a room. Take advantage of my generosity."

Freddie tensed with each word and averted his gaze so that he was looking anywhere but my face. It was rather obvious what he was getting at, but he was surprisingly too afraid to ask me directly. I can't blame him really, I'm a confusing twat.

"Rent out a room?" I frowned, "I hear the prices are pretty steep around here. Do you do mate's rates?"

Freddie's eyes crinkled with silent laughter before he exhaled slowly, "Oh I don't know, I don't think we're close enough for that Hayes."

"I just had to ask." I shrugged listlessly, "So what's my cheapest option?"

"The master bedroom... but unfortunately you would be sharing."

"Right." I sighed deeply. "Beggars can't be choosers I suppose."

I received a small pinch on my thigh for that comment, but Freddie was much more relaxed with his unspoken question lingering in the air. He was able to look at me once again and I adored the hopeful smile that touched his lips.

"You're on tour again until May." I pointed out, "So you wouldn't be here."

"Oh it's appealing to you now, is it?"

"On the contrary, I'm being turned off of the idea entirely." I blew out a sigh, "If I'm taking a job at the BBC, that's only me occupied on Fridays, what do you expect me to do with the rest of my time?"

Freddie was too confused by my words to continue on with our joking manner, "Are you actually considering it?"

"I think I have decided." I nodded, "That it would be a shame to deprive the fine people across the British Isles of my face." I slipped my fingers between his, "Don't you think?"

Freddie cut me a small side eye, "I think that being on television will turn you into an even more arrogant tart."

"So it's settled then, you have to stick with me, and keep me humble." I raised his knuckles to my lips, "I can't offer to do the same because you're already too far gone..."

Freddie cut me off with a small laugh, before he slipped his free hand up to gently cup the back of my head. His teeth peaked out from beneath his lips in a beautiful unrestrained smile, but his lovely dark gaze remained a little reserved.

"Are you really going to move to London? Don't feel forced into it Hayes, we'll manage something if you want to stay in New York. Make this decision for you, be selfish if you need to. I love you, and just want you to be comfortable."

During my tour of Garden Lodge, I noted the various times Freddie had mentioned the features I may like. The rooms he had suggested I could use for a study, to hide out, to make my own. It was completely clear to me then that Freddie really was yearning to settle himself, and that he would only do so if he had me. The mistakes we both had made in the past seemed utterly insignificant in comparison to the paradisiacal future Freddie was trying to offer me.

The New York chapter of my life had run its course, I no longer had anything to hide from. Everyone I loved was in London, and I'm sure I would manage to carve out some sort of career for myself here. It was strange, for the first time in my life work was a secondary concern of mine; for now my primary concern was spending time with Freddie.

"Yes, I'm really going to move to London." I nodded, thinking ahead to all memories I could still make with George, Annie, the kids, Jules... and of course, Freddie. "Well, if you think you can tolerate me long-term."

Freddie scoffed before he pressed his forehead to mine, "I'm sure I'll manage, but only on one condition."

I tensed slightly, "What's that?"

Freddie gently met his lips with my own, before his elated grin permanently hooked itself inside of my chest, "Be happy here, my darling."

——

A/N— I know this wasn't great, but it was long so hopefully that made up for it hahah. Hope you managed to enjoy 😂🫠🤍