A/N- So this is an absolute mess, let's blame my fevered mind for this 😂Enjoy!! X

H.G.
NYC, USA
July.

I had been staring at the wall for the best part of an hour, and had no intention of finding another activity to entertain myself with.

I knew I led a boring life, but my wall staring habit seems overkill, even for me. This riveting pastime has helped distract me for a couple of years now. Said walls in my living room were pained a shade named 'Agreeable Grey'. A lovely, sensible colour. Over the years, a small scratch in the paint appeared, so I sought to touch it up. 'Agreeable Grey' was nowhere to be bloody found so I tried to match it as best I could with another brand of an identical colour, 'Revere Pewter'. So, I painted over the scratch with my new paint, thinking everything would be fine and dandy.

The colours didn't match, and the fact peeves me. All I wanted, was for the paint, to be the same as the rest of the wall, to blend in. Is that too much too ask? 

Yes, I realise that was most likely the most boring passage you have ever read. Who could possibly opt to read a book about the various shades of grey? But this is me. Agreeable Grey, through and through, so you're going to have to bear it.

I took a large gulp of a particularly smooth whiskey, and let my mind go as blank as the space I stared at. Maybe I could find that shade in a different state, perhaps Pennsylvania.

'When I was young, I never needed anyone, and making love was just for fun. Those days are gone.'

"Oh for the love of God." I grumbled to myself, and slowly got to my feet. The radio had also been playing loudly, so that I could really keep my mind empty.

'Living alone, I think of all the friends I've known. But when I dial the telephone, nobody's home.'

They play such rubbish on the wireless these days. 'All by my-' I quickly twisted the dial, in order to find another station. I glanced down at my empty glass with even more annoyance. As a new tune went off, I trudged towards the kitchen.

'You're gonna be nowhere. The loneliest kind of lonely. It may be rough going, just to do your thing's the hardest thing to do...'

Even worse.

I snatched the entire bottle of whiskey up and walked as quickly as possible towards the living room once again. My sheepskin slippers shuffled across the tiles, before scratching on the carmine shaded carpet as I switched rooms.

'But you gotta make your own kind of music
Sing your own special song-'

Another sharp twist to change the station.

'And the rich-relationed hometown queen, marries into what she needs. With a guarantee of company and haven for the elderly.'

At that I switched the radio off, and decided to go with a standard, objectively 'good' album of music. I flipped the 'Abbey Road' vinyl over  so that the B side would play on my record player. I was content that I couldn't find too much fault with any of the songs, lest I be strangled by a fanatic. Just as I was adjusting the needle, the door rattled with a series of urgent knocks.

Out of a small fright, my hand clumsy knocked the needle forward as the record spun. A screech ensured before I turned to the door, which was being furiously knocked on again.

'And in the middle of investigation, I break down.'

"Who is it?" I grunted, making the short trek down the hallway to the heavy door.

"Alex."

I flinched slightly at that, "Nobody's home."

'Nowhere to go, nowhere to go.'

"Don't be ridiculous Hayes, please I had to bribe the bloody doorman."

"Well that was a waste of your money."

"Please!"

Something knotted in my chest at his pleading tone as it so often did. "Fine, but Angie will be home at any minute so you're going to need to leave the second she arrives."

'Soon we'll be away from here, step on the gas and wipe away that tear.'

I unlocked the door, and Alex slid in, looking a little red in the face. Immediately, I backed up as far as I could, "What is it you want?"

"You've been ignoring me, and I want to talk to you." He seemed upset, but I didn't do anything wrong.

"I haven't been ignoring you." I scoffed as if the very notion was ridiculous.

In reality, I had been ignoring him, but I found myself unable to be horrid to Alex and tell him to piss off like I would with anyone else. I just wish he would leave me alone.

"You have, and we're friends," Alex stuffed his hands in his coat pocket, "and I'm sorry I fucked that up."

So, I may have gotten my first proposition from a man in New York. My father's ill omen finally came to pass when I walked Alex to his car a few weeks ago. Alex and I had been talking as normal, laughing as normal, I had thanked him for picking up my suit, as normal. All I did was clasp his shoulder to say goodbye, a perfectly innocent gesture on my part. But whatever Alex mistook that for I'll never know, because he attempted to kiss me.

Now, I'm an open minded person, so I didn't freak out. That much.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine if you're ignoring me."

"Well, you shouldn't have done what you did."

"I know."

"You should be more careful." I added, but felt like an absolute prick for saying such a thing.

"Yes, I realise if it was anyone but you I would have been clattered across the face." Alex's voice wavered with rage for a moment, "But you give such mixed signals, I don't know what I'm meant to do."

"I don't give mixed signals!" I exclaimed defensively, "You just mistook our friendship for something else, that is your fault, not mine."

"Oh come on, you and I both know that I didn't mistake anything!" Alex was uncharacteristically annoyed, "Hayes I just want you to be yourself-"

Myself? Myself!? Why does everyone think that I am not acting like myself? I'm a prick get over it, there's plenty of them in the world.

"Alex?" Angela appeared and pulled on a good natured smile, "What are you doing here?"

"Angie, hello." Alex flicked his gaze between Angie and I, his frown deepened. "I was just chatting to Hayes about... work."

I felt like I had been caught red handed, when all I was doing was chatting with my colleague. Who tried to kiss me. Who's a man. So, I stood there, slack jawed, waiting for the nightmare to end. I tend to freeze in unfavourable situations, just because I don't like to deal with them.

"Work? Hayes never gets a break from that job," Angie sighed and placed a kiss on my cheek, "Has he told you the news?"

"News?" Alex backed up a step towards the door, clearly wanting to leave now that Angie had appeared.

"Hayes finally popped the question." Angela smiled and held her hand out so that the ring could be inspected. 

I felt myself shrink inward. At the mention of the engagement, I had a strong urge to take a swan dive out the window from our sky rise apartment. "Yes, I did."

Alex's eyes widened, "Is that so? Congratulations."

Now, I'm an extremely secure man, so the fact that I proposed to Angie the same night Alex made a pass for me, was not at all connected. I was planning on proposing for a while, and I just had the urge to do it that night. As well as the urge to show Angie some... appreciation. Now, would someone who's defensive do something like that? No. Of course not, so let's not think about it too much.

"Thank you." Angela chuckled, "You'll be one of the first on the invite list."

"I look forward to it." Alex smiled tightly, "Hope you two have a good night." Knowing Alex as well as I did, meant I knew he was being completely insincere.

"You too." Angie waved him off, and turned to me.

I was busy staring off after Alex, wishing I had been a little kinder. People at work are already arseholes to him just because he's gay, I don't need to add to his burden. Maybe I should go after him, apologise and-

"How was your day Hayes?" Angie asked, her hand latched onto mine.

"Good." I replied immediately. "Tired. How are you?"

"Amazing." She stared down at her ring, lips tugged upward in a smile.

"That's what I like to hear." I placed a chaste kiss on the top of her head, "Have you eaten yet? Need me to get you anything?"

"I just want to go to bed."

I nodded, "Same here, I'll just switch everything off and clean everything away."

Angela was usually in California, which meant I was left to my own devices the majority of the time. It was an arrangement I didn't mind too much. But I suppose I was feeling a little lonely since my last trip to London. Surprisingly, Freddie Mercury was the best company I had in months. Even after I was a twat to him. I freaked out that day at the races, which is a rare occurrence and god help anyone around me when it does happen. I hate when my New York and England life collide, which is what happened that day.

After I swept the kitchen and put everything away, I began my long pre-bed regimen. I brushed my teeth for as long as possible, in the hopes that Angie would be already asleep when I slipped into bed. I just wasn't in a chatty- or anything otherwise- mood. Of course Angela was still fully clothed and had just returned from the kitchen with a glass of water when I exited the en-suite. With my pyjamas already on, I climbed into bed and quickly tried to engross myself with a newspaper.

"Do you think we should start trying for kids?"

My fingers crumpled the copy of the Times in shock and horror... and horror, "I ah," a deep gulp ensued, "we aren't even married yet."

"I know," Angie set about tying up her red hair, "But we'll be married soon, and all my friends have them."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, "Well children aren't bloody accessories, you can't want them just because your friends have them."

Angela looked injured , "You can he so cruel sometimes."

"Its not being cruel, it's being practical." I folded my glasses and set them on the bedside locker. "We'll worry about kids once we're married." In the far future.

"You always put things off! I had to ask you if I could move in, I had to ask you to propose for at least a year before you did it!" She slipped into bed after getting changed and put her back to me, "Now what? I have to wait years again before you want to have kids with me?"

Guilt fuelled my movements as I reached over to brush my hand along Angela's back. "I'm sorry. You're right. I do take things slow, too slow."

"Shouldn't things be easier?" She sighed, "Shouldn't you want all these things with me?"

The words caught on my tongue, as if they shouldn't be said aloud, "I do! I want a wife, and I want a family."

"With me?"

"Of course with you!" I murmured, and retrieved my hand, "Sorry I have been so moody lately, I shouldn't take it out on you."

"It's okay," Angela let out another deep sigh.

I should have probably asked what's caused the sigh, but I didn't to want to talk anymore. Slowly, I reached over and switched off the lamp. I readied myself to to say goodnight, when I felt a cold hand slide over my chest.

"Let me convince you Hayes." Her voice took on a sultry tone, "Want to know what the best part of having kids would be?"

This seems like dangerous territory. "What?" I squeaked.

"Getting pregnant." She chuckled, "The fun is trying."

"Sounds great!" I quickly snapped my eyes shut, "I can't wait!" I tucked my arm under the pillow, "God I'm tired, we'll talk more in the morning."

Angie's lips pressed against my neck, her hand slid over my waist. "Yes, goodnight to you too!" I then proceeded to pat her back. "We're all tired, so tired."

"What happened to the Hayes from the night you proposed?"

"He's tired, didn't you hear me!" I exclaimed and quickly got out of her grip, "I ah- I left the record player on in the living room, I better switch it off. Be back soon." I placed a small kiss on her lips before skidding out of the room.

I had actually left the record player on, which was a small mercy. Not that I didn't want to 'fool around' with my fiancé, because I certainly did. I just knew if I was tired, I wouldn't be at my top billing. I hate that I said that too don't worry.

'Boy, you're gonna carry that weight, carry that weight, a long time.'

"Oh shut up." I grumbled as if in a direct dialogue with Paul, before I switched the player off.

____

F.M
Boston
23rd July.

"Your boyfriend's review is in."

"The Rolling Stone-" I immediately cut myself off, "Wait- what are you talking about? My who? Whom are you referring to?"

"You knee-jerk reaction was to say Rolling Stone, so you know I'm talking about Hayes."

I attempted to come up with some sort of smart remark, but found myself opening and closing my mouth like a fish out of water instead. So, I snatched the magazine from Phoebe's hands and furiously flipped through glossy pages until I found Hayes' latest article.

Since the Royal Ascot, I had taken to reading Hayes' reviews and my god he's mean... yet entertaining. Amidst the bad reviews, one good one stood out, which was thoroughly shocking. He had given Fleetwood Mac's 'Mirage' four stars. Liking Fleetwood Mac was the only indication that Hayes may know some good music.

"Billy Idol?" I frowned, "He's new." Two and 1/2 star, Hayes is the only one I see that uses bloody fractions.

I read the opening few lines which completely condemned this decade of music. He contributed this to the same awful disco beats that have been recycled by every artist under the sun at this stage. He then says he missed the 70s where artists such as the Eagles, the Rolling Stones, and Queen were at their creative best.

I knew Hayes wasn't making a dig towards us, he was actually complimenting us, in his own way. My charm astounds me sometimes.

'It's rather ironic that the opening track of this album is named 'Dead on Arrival', considering once the album arrived on my desk, my faith in 80s music died.'

A bout of soft laughter escaped me. I'm sure I was receiving my Hayes induced 'someone's smitten' look from Phoebe right about now, but he can fuck off. I have gotten into light reading, I should be applauded for my new hobby, not teased.

"You're playing New York in a few days, have you made contact?"

"No." I shook my head, "I have been busy if you haven't noticed, and I have other friends in New York."

"Yes, I do know all that, but you're literally tracing your hand fondly over a magazine article right now."

I immediately snapped the magazine shut, "You always make such a huge deal out of nothing! Hayes and I have an uneasy truce at the moment, and the man is as temperamental as they come."

Phoebe looked as though he had a lot to say about that, and when I brought up Bill Reid attending the show, he looked as though he may burst. "Don't say a word."

"Hayes may be moody, but at least he didn't assault anybody." Phoebe had turned around to grumble this.

I flexed my hand at the unsavoury memory of Bill's fucking teeth latching in before the Milton Keynes gig. But I prefer to brush over such events, and only entertain you with the lighthearted tales from this tour. In actual fact, I pushed the incident from my mind and focused on pleasing the music critic in attendance. I was in America now, so that meant more of Bill, and I don't think he would take to well to me making contact with Hayes. He's the jealous type, and I think being around someone as attractive as Hayes, would be enough to bloody provoke anyone.

So even though I wanted to contact Hayes, I didn't think it wise at the present moment. No, instead I picked a worse moment to get in contact.

NYC
27th, July

Let's not mince words here.

I am drunk. Fucked. Plastered. Trollied. Off my tits. I am so utterly sloshed that after a brief black out of memory, I was now standing in a hotel lobby, snapping profanities at a manager.

"You do not have a room here sir."

"I am Freddie Mercury." I tried not to slur but that was impossible.

"Yes, you've said so."

I forgot that answer didn't bloody get me anywhere in America, especially New York, which was precisely why I enjoyed it here. The fact was doing me no favours right now though.

"Where's Phoebe?"

"I don't know her either sir."

"She's a he-" I tried to explain, which had the patient manger's brows rising with confusion, "Oh never mind!"

A horrid drunken argument with Bill had me storming off before he could do any real damage. Apparently I had been flirting with someone, who's name I couldn't possibly remember. Even if I was, it's not like he fucking owned me, a fact I may have spat angrily. I was called a slew of unsavoury names, it was when he pushed me back, I had enough for one evening.

It turns out, I actually don't know New York as well as I thought I did. Well, at least drunk, and alone at 4am. I saw a grand looking hotel, and assumed that's where I had been staying. I was very wrong.

I was only let in after stating I was Freddie Mercury, but when I had been let in, the consensus between the manager and security was that I couldn't possibly be him. Of course I had no identification or money with me, and I was polluted with alcohol, so I didn't do myself any favours. I just need to bloody but the bullet and buy property here.

"Can we call someone for you?" The manager must have dealt with crazy celebrities before because his patience was unmatched.

New York... New York. Look me up when you're in New York.

"Yes! Yes- there's- you know- there's Hayes!"

"Again sir, I have no idea-"

"Phone?" I made a gesture to accompany what I desired, "Is there a phone here?"

The manager looked quite relieved at the prospect of me leaving so he nodded, "Yes of course."

"If you want to have a good time, just give me a call." I half sang as a I dialled the phone, "Nothing?"

The manager simply shrugged.

Fucking moustache.

It is not at all significant that I memorised Hayes' number and remembered it even when drunk. So let's not start any rumours of the sort.

"Who's this?" An extremely groggy voice mumbled into the phone, I smiled immediately.

"Good morning, New York."

"Oh for the love of god," he muttered, "Have you not worked out time differences yet?"

"Oh I have, it's currently..." my vision blurred as I tried to read the clock in front of me, "4am."

"Then why the hell are you-"

"I'm in New York, right now. And a little lost."

"Are you okay?" He asked quickly.

"No. I'm in..."

"The Chatwal." The night manager sighed.

"The Chatwal!"

"And you aren't staying there?"

"No." I shot the manager a glare at that, even though he had no idea what was being said.

"Bloody hell." He sighed, "Don't go anywhere, I'll collect you."

"You are such a dear."

There was rustling as he scoffed, "Don't go wandering again."

"I won't." I agreed.

"When I said 'look me up', I didn't mean to use me as a taxi service Freddie."

"Noted."

There was an onslaught of grumbling before he hung up the phone. The manager looked at me expectantly.

"Hayes is on his way."

"Very good sir."

I was at least offered water during my wait, but it didn't really sober me up all that much. I may be under the influence of other substances too. I would have to try and tame it down a little if I was going to be in a car alone with Hayes.

An unmeasurable amount of time later, the phone rang, and Hayes informed me that he wasn't coming in and that I would have to come out. I opted not to apologise to the manager, considering he didn't believe in my identity, and walked out to into the freezing New York air which gave London a run for its money.

The car parked out front was lovely, I'm sure Roger would have wept over it, and been able to name it. I expected nothing less really.

I slipped into the car with a grin on my face, "Hello." I sang and fastened my seatbelt. Which took an embarrassingly long time to do in my current state.

"Hello." A rich rasp greeted me back.

Hayes was treating me to the pissed off side eye, but I was too dumbstruck by him to notice. The man was wearing silk navy pyjama bottoms and a white T-shirt- a T-shirt! His hair for the first time was unkempt, and tossed all over his head in wavy tangles. He looked so... casual, I didn't think it possible.

"You stink of alcohol." His nose upturned gingerly. Speech seemed to escape me as Hayes peered at me over the rim of his glasses, "Where am I dropping you?"

Just stop staring at him, that's all I need to do. Stop staring at his face. "Uhm..."

He finally turned his gaze toward me, "Well?"

I didn't want to go back to my own hotel room, because Bill would be there. I also didn't want to knock on Phoebe's door demanding that I stay in his room like I have had to do on many an occasion. I had no idea where Thor and co. would be right now...

"I'm not sure... I have anywhere to go."

Hayes frowned at that, "I'm assuming you're here on tour, don't you have hotels booked?"

"Yes." I wasn't going to explain Bill to him, I was embarrassed.

"You genuinely have nowhere to go?" Hayes asked again, and scratched at the five o'clock shadow that drew even more attention to his sharp features.

"No, I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologise." Hayes rolled his eyes, "I'm sure you have your reasons. I have a spare room, you can sleep there. I'll be gone in the morning at 8, so just lock up whenever you wake up and drop the key down at reception."

I was thoroughly surprised by this, "Are you sure?"

"You don't look the type to steal," Hayes shrugged with an amused smile, "I'm sure I can trust you."

"That's very kind of you."

Why did he have to be bloody nice? In my drunken stupor it was already difficult enough to hide my attraction to him, I was counting on him being a twat to get through it. They never tell you the effect beer goggles have on an already attractive person, he looks like some bloody heavenly being!

"I hope you know this all depends on whether you throw up, because you look on the verge of doing so." He started the car up, "If you do, you're being dumped on the side of the road."

Now, that's so much better.

____

A/N- Whatever that was, I hope you enjoyed!😂🤍