Happy...He should be happy. He should be okay. Hell he should be able to get himself out of bed. Everything ached for no reason; bricks were weighing him down and keeping him in the same position in his bed for hours. Minutes felt like months while seconds felt like hours. His body and mind found no reason to do anything even when his rational was telling him he had to get up. It all felt impossible to do: moving, blinking, breathing...

Sunlight was quickly filling the sky; the blue growing and growing, only being replaced with the occasional white cloud. John continued to stare blankly at the window, his mind subconsciously counting the seconds until the next minute passed. Where was his motivation? How the hell did it just disappear? He should feel fine...He should be ecstatic! They were at the studio again, having fun. And Freddie liked him! That was absolutely amazing and he was sitting here not feeling anything. Not even the slightest bit of sadness to remind him that he could still feel something. It sickened him, yet he was too tired to even feel disgust.

A small, cautious knock came out from the other side of his door. His mouth refused to move so he could talk, not a single sound escaping from his mouth. However, the creak of his bed from him turning onto his back seemed to have alerted whoever was behind his door that he was in there. The door opened, the light from the hallway making his eyes burn as they were forced to adjust to the sudden influx of artificial light.

"John?"

Freddie's timid voice came out to him, but at that moment it was one of the last things he wanted to hear. Resentment burned under his skin as he heard him walk in. How could he run back off to Bret when they wanted to help him? How could he let himself be so blind that he couldn't see that they were right? How could he only be able to tell him he loved him when he was under alcohol's malicious spell?

But he couldn't even keep that quick burst of emotion going much longer. Anger and reproach vanished in an instant as he fell back into his own melancholy, not even groaning in response to Freddie's entrance into his darkened room.

"John love, you okay?" He asked cautiously, his footsteps growing louder as he headed over to his bed. John could barely venture a look towards Freddie, the faint light coming through his window from behind the curtains gave him a blurry and grey sight of his face. One of Freddie's eyes seemed to be ever so slightly off, like it wasn't working properly at the moment. Even without much light, John could already see the purple and black bruise around it and the many others that must've come from the previous night. Yet Freddie still pulled a kind smile and tried to put a soft cover over his eyes in order to hide any of the hidden pain or trauma that lurked at the back of his mind.

His silhouette moved across his room, the bed creaking again as Freddie took a seat on the other side of his bed. John couldn't even feel the usual excitement in his stomach with having him so close. A tentative touch fell upon his shoulder, Freddie's hand pausing for a second before he ran it across his shoulder and up to the crook of his neck, the repetitive movement bringing a sense of calmness to him that actually managed to stay after going hours without feeling anything but guilt.

"It's alright...Did something happen?" Freddie asked.

No...Nothing ever really causes it. He thought, even though he wished he had some reason behind it. He just shrugged in response, continuing to stare at the opposing wall while Freddie's slowly rubbed his shoulder.

"C'mon, sit up a bit. Just to move around." Freddie prompted, John's body feeling ten times heavier as soon as he suggested it. But before he could even protest, Freddie started pushing him up into a seated position, John helping out near the end to hold himself up while Freddie laid a pillow behind him, his body instantly falling back against it.

"What's wrong love?" He asked softly, the soft touch on his lap making it even harder to talk. 

You said you liked me...Yet you stay with him. He hits you and you stay with him. Roger's got something bothering him and he won't tell me. Brian's so distant and irritated yet won't say anything. Am I really that separate from all of you? He thought, giving a small shrug in response to Freddie's question.

"It's almost one in the afternoon, something's gotta be up, dear." Freddie continued, more words starting to now well up inside of his throat, all of them fighting to be the ones to form a sentence he could somehow spew out so Freddie could at least try to understand what he wanted to say to him.

"Just...A lot..." He finally said to him, his voice barely working and coming out in a dry whisper.

"Darling you sound ill, have you caught anything?"

"No."

"Eaten or drank anything?"

"No..."

"I'll get something to drink. That should help."

Freddie shot up and headed out of the room, John continuing to stay seated while he made him something. He didn't want his pity, he was old enough to do it himself if he wasn't such a waste of space. And yet...he couldn't help but want to let Freddie baby him while he couldn't do anything. In reality, he just wanted to curl up next to him and lay there all day without a care in the world. Despite every ounce of anger and disgust he held against Freddie's moronic actions with his love life, he couldn't shy away from any attention he wanted to give him. Perhaps he was just some pathetic whelp that wouldn't stand up for himself regardless of what happened to him.

Footsteps came from across the room again, Freddie walking in with a small, blue mug with steam curling out of the top. Once he reached him, the sweet scent of the tea hit his nose and made his stomach twist inside of him. Why force him to eat anything? It wouldn't do any good in the end but make him feel sicker. He could last on a few chips or a piece of bread, not a whole cup of tea doused in cream and sugar.

"Drink, please?" Freddie tried, holding the mug out to him with a hopeful look on his face that John could barely see with the dim lighting. He could only obey what Freddie wanted for he was in no position to really argue with anyone. He took the cup, the steam hitting his face and heating up his cold nose and cheeks. Warmth spread through him as he took the first sip, his tongue burning ever so slightly. But it was that good sort of burn, the type that meant the tea wasn't too hot but not room-temperature just yet. It was just how he liked it. Perfect amount of sugar and the perfect amount of cream inside of it. Even he couldn't get it right all the time and yet here Freddie was making it just the way he liked it without blinking an eye.

"Thanks." John told him, his voice sounding a bit better with the tea coating his once dry throat.

"Oh it's alright, I just want to make sure you're doing okay." He replied, that exact same look of longing from two days ago sneaking back into his eyes. He knelt down and laid his hand on his other leg, John looking down and meeting his gaze for just a moment. Yet in that moment, he could see that shadow in his eyes that covered up his pining and grief. When Freddie broke away, John could then only focus on the bruise beneath his eye. Without even thinking, he reached out with his free hand and ran cupped his face, Freddie going tense beneath his touch but immediately relaxing. He rubbed his thumb across the bruise, Freddie's eyes filling with shame as he continued to avoid his stare but continued to relish in his touch, the small grin that appeared for a split second making his heart skip.

"Why?" Was all he could ask out of the thousands of other questions that marred his thoughts.

"It's nothing dear...I've handled worse rows with other blokes. This is nothing." He answered. "Besides, I always set him off being all-" he gestured around with his hands to substitute for words. "-so it's fine..."

John could only sigh as he continued to rub the bruise beneath Freddie's eye, his eyes soon falling shut as he pressed his face even closer to the palm of his hand. He wished he could do something so he could understand. Just so he could understand that this wasn't right. No one deserved this because they "spoke out" or whatever dammed thing Bret wanted to use to justify his actions. The usual urge began to rise up again. Maybe going back to two nights ago when he had first admitted it to him...If saying something to Freddie would get him out of that terrible relationship, the end result wouldn't matter.

"I mean..." Freddie began. "I finally got someone who cares about me; that's gotta count for something, right?"

If he really cared about you he wouldn't cheat on you. But John only gave a side glance and shrugged, Freddie's face falling even more. A spark appeared in his eyes, that maniacal grin spreading across his face as Freddie leapt up from his spot and marched right over to the curtains, tugging them open and letting the sunlight pour in from the outside. John winced and shut his eyes immediately, the bright light burning after being locked in a dark room all day.

"Alright, enough laying around. We can go out for a bit. It's finally a nice day out there." Freddie commented as he turned around. When John finally did open his eyes, he could only gawk at Freddie who was standing there proudly with his hands placed on his hips and that smirk still plastered across his face, the sunlight from behind him creating an elegant glow around him.

And yet, his energy still evaded him. What was the point in getting up and going out? He was just going to screw it up somehow or his luck would let a bus smash into him. But Freddie didn't see it that way, not in the slightest. He walked right back over and took his hands, that glow in Freddie's eyes remaining even without the sun to brighten them up as he tried to hoist him out of his bed.

"Now come on Deaky, it's midday. We could go out for a bit if you want! It's gorgeous out and a nice walk around wouldn't hurt anyone."

Yes and why don't we go drink tea and listen to sitar music to 'cleanse our souls'? That always helps when you want to stop existing.

"We could go back to the studio if that'd help you out? A bit of music would be nice and we could work on some tracks." He paused for a moment. "Although...Bri and Rog are out doing God knows what right now." He put on a hopeful face once again. "It'd just be you and me then."

While the idea sounded appealing, the cloud in his mind prevented him from seeing any of the benefit. Instead it focused on the previous day and how quickly their most recent travel to the studio had been and how it had resulted in Freddie's black eye from his ever so lovely boyfriend. You'd muck it all up and you know it. You'll say something or say how you feel and it'd shove him away or make him rush off to Bret again or-

"Whadda you say?" Freddie asked, his hands tightening around his own.

His response hung on the edge of his lips. Yeah and what? I'll piss you off for some reason and you'll hate me? Or I make you run off to Bret again cause I couldn't shut my damn mouth? Or how about you let me be so I can try to not exist for a while and my damn mind can shut up for five bloody minutes? But none of it came out of him. No matter how much he wanted to tell him, his mind and body prevented him from doing it. He couldn't act like a complete ass towards him even with his skin prickling with annoyance towards everything that surrounded him.

"Fine..." John finally said.

"Oh lovely!" Freddie beamed as he leapt back up. "C'mon then! It's a quick drive down there!"

John could only stare as Freddie rushed out of his room, the sound of him out in the living room only making him feel even guiltier than before. You're getting his hopes up. How is that going to help him? 

Eventually, though mainly out of fear of disappointing Freddie, John shoved himself out of bed and dragged himself over to the dresser, looking up at his mangled appearance and sighing loudly as he tried fixing his hair the best of his ability. He made a quick trip into the bathroom to brush his teeth before heading out into the living room, to which he was greeted with the sight of Freddie standing in front of the TV, staring at the blackened screen and running his fingers over the bruise beneath his eye, only to jump in place a second after he walked out and began to act like nothing had even happened.

"You sure that bruise is alright?" John asked. "I could get some ice if it's-"

"John love, it's okay, really. It's just another ugly bruise. It'll heal in due time."

Before John could ask anything else, Freddie rushed over to the door and grabbed his coat off of the hanger. "Well, you just gonna stand there?" he asked playfully. "Go grab your coat!"

He tossed him his coat from its designated hanger, John only barely catching it as Freddie swung the door open, standing there and waiting for him to exit. John threw on his jacket and grabbed his keys from their hook, walking out of their flat while Freddie came out from behind him, the door closing within a second.

Once they had begun driving over to the studio, Freddie opened up his window and let his hand move around in the rushing wind that surrounded the car as they drove. John took in a deep breath, the icy winter air filling his lungs and making his body shiver, goosebumps immediately spreading across his skin. He reached out and turned on the radio, searching through the various stations, groaning every time it was a commercial or some damn talk show on again.

"Ooh! Wait go back!" Freddie exclaimed as he took his hand back inside. He caught his wrist, John's face flushing a dark red while Freddie instantly let go. He pulled his hand back, Freddie starting to head back to whatever song had been playing.

"All you gotta do is snap your fingers...And I'll come a runnin', I ain't lyin'..."

"Ah! I love this song!" Freddie shouted with a grin as he turned up the volume on the radio. Immediately he began to sing along with the woman who was singing, instantly reaching her pitch and singing each note flawlessly and not messing up a single lyric.

"Little boy you know you got it...I'd deny my own self before I see you without it. 'Cause I love you...Ain't no doubt about it baby, I love you..." He sung, his eyes bright as he bared that lovely grin as he moved his hands eclectically about the car.

John could only watch and listen, his own small smile starting to form as Freddie did his thing from the passenger seat. Oh how he had missed seeing that smile on Freddie's face or even just to hear him sing again with that beautiful energy again. Yesterday had been the first time in ages that any of them had heard him sing anything. It was so nice. So very nice to have that to listen to on the way there. If only he could stay like that for good again...

Eventually, the song came to a close. Thankfully, it was just as they approached the corner they had to turn in order to get to the studio. Freddie sighed as he laid back, placing his hands behind his head and lounging in the seat until they got there.

"Lord if I ever met her I'd probably forget my bloody name! Such a lovely voice..." Freddie commented as John parked his car, unbuckling his seatbelt and stretching in his seat, his shirt riding up ever so slightly and bringing a hard blush to John's still reddened face. Just say it already...You're alone...

But nothing came out of him again. Freddie had already left the car and was standing outside, mindlessly humming along while he took the key out of the ignition and left the car himself. The car honked as he locked it, both of them heading over to the studio.

"Ya know...I've never gotten how on earth you learned to drive. Seems like it's damn near impossible."

"Nah...Not really. It sorta becomes second nature after a while. You don't really think about it as you're doing it."

"Still seems like it's magic."

"Fred, you can barely work a stove. I think we'd all be scared if you tried driving us somewhere." John replied, earning a quick scoff from Freddie.

"It'd be like you trying to sing! Or Roger shutting up whenever Brian and him get up to something. Good lord he sounds like a bitch in heat." He paused and gave another quick laugh. "You're probably right though, we'd be dead in a matter of minutes driving 'round the corner."

John gave a nervous laugh, unfortunately being reminded of the time with his old classmate when they had tried doing something. He forced back a groan at the memory, his embarrassment still holding strong. Yeah I've no stories to tell...Or really any idea what I'm like. He thought, desperately thankful now that Freddie couldn't read any of his thoughts.

"Bah! You all can waste your time learning to do that. I know I'm not a driver and I think it's safer for everyone else that I just stay off the road." Freddie continued.

"At this point, it might be. Couldn't imagine you trying to drive around without getting out of the car to sing."

"Oh shut it!" Freddie teased, only to keep laughing afterwards as they walked in. "Imagine if I bloody tried drive! There'd be a broken telephone pole on every corner!"

Freddie fell onto one of the couches and propped himself up on his arms. John walked over to where the row of basses sat, his eyes trailing over each until he returned to Freddie's area, the scraps of paper containing his song still sitting on the table and spread out across it.

"You've anything new Fred?" He asked.

"Well...I mean there's that song you've heard before. That bluesy one you said you liked. I might give it a shot right now if you don't mind helping me record it?"

John couldn't help but agree. In a few minutes, they had all they needed set up and Freddie was already in the booth, the glass blocking out his vocal exercises but John could basically hear them already after hearing them for so many years. He put on the large pair of headphones, quickly giving the mic a little tap to get it ready. John sat above the audio panel, his hands hovering around a few buttons while he gave a quick signal for Freddie to start. 

"Another party's over...And I'm left cold sober...My baby left me for somebody new..."

His singing filled his ears, that sharp voice being the only thing he heard and being the only thing he wanted to hear. Even just recording the song, something kept him watching like he was back on stage, conducting the audience to follow him with every bit of their attention. Yet the lyrics weren't evoking any sort of joy. Freddie's emotions seeped through every pore in the words that came out of his mouth.

"So come and get me...Let me...Get in that sinking feeling that says my heart is on an all time low..." There wasn't any happiness. John could even see Freddie sitting in the bar that night with his head buried under his arms and tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. "So don't expect me...To behave perfectly and wear that sunny smile. My guess is I'm in for a cloudy and overcast..." A small glass being in front of him and filled to the brim with aged whisky or brandy. Another following and filled with more of the same alcohol only to be switched to vodka down the road. His mind growing blurrier and blurrier yet the emotions still continued to persist. Every ounce of anger and confusion only intensifying without his mind being able to control itself. "Don't try and stop me 'cause I'm heading for that stormy weather soon! I'm causing a mild sensation with this new occupation!" And then his fall from grace in which he no longer remembered anything. Having more drinks, stumbling out of the bar and somehow finding his way back to their flat, smashing the glass and cursing out his boyfriend, confessing how he felt...Trying so hard to feel loved by someone that he would risk losing a close friend if it meant he might, just might, get someone he had loved for so very long. That he found it best to skip any buildup and just go right to making love on the couch while blacked out and eventually getting sick not even fifteen minutes after coming home. Only to wake up the next morning and remember none of that. Not a single part of it but the betrayal that had happened once again.

"I'm just getting used to my new exposure...Come into my enclosure! And meet my...melancholy blues..." Freddie sang, using almost every piece of his energy into those last few lyrics and carrying out the last note for a few seconds until he pulled away from the mic, giving a lost look towards him. He gave him a thumbs up, Freddie giving a hopeful smile in return as he took the headphones off and headed back out.

"Lemme hear it. I doubt I could've gotten it right first go." Freddie said as he walked over, John pulling the headphones off and clicking the required buttons so he could hear it.

His face screwed up for a second but he continued listening while John stood watching. Dozens of little gears were clicking and whirling around in his mind. Meanwhile, his eyes could barely reflect all the thoughts rushing through his mind before more would take their place. He tapped his fingers on the dashboard, almost as though he was expecting that to speed up the song for him.

"Okay no, that thing is absolute shit!" He growled. "Set it up again, I'm giving it another go."

And so the cycle continued for the next hour of Freddie singing the sound in the booth, John sitting there recording and adjusting the sound when needed, Freddie coming out and listening back to it, and then critiquing it to no end. But each attempt at improving it, somehow, he found more ways to fix it. Whether it be hitting a higher note somewhere or shortening how long he held a lyric, something was always improved even when John really found very few flaws himself in the sound.

"Fred?" He asked when he came out after singing it for the fifteenth time. "You think you should hold off for a bit? Singing the same song over and over won't get you any better results."

"No no I know I can get it right this time! It's just a few things so it sounds-"

"But maybe a quick rest might help it sound better."

"Fuck that! I can sing for over an hour and a half during a concert! I can certainly do it in a studio for less than an hour!" Freddie argued.

"Fred." He said dismissively. "Least drink something. We could get the bass and piano bits done and come back to this in a bit." 

Finally he got an agreement from Freddie who followed him out into the opposing room and sat himself down at the piano. He dug through a mess of papers littered across the top, finally pulling out two sheets and looking over whatever notes he had scribbled down for him to remember.

"How on earth someone can fucking read this?!" He growled out of frustration, tossing the sheets back onto the piano and grabbing one with his own handwriting, and lack of music notes. He sighed and recomposed himself instantly, looking down at the sheet and reading over what it was he had written. "You think they'd make it easier to read and yet...Hmph."

A slightly crazed smile spread across Freddie's face as he threaded his hands through his hair. John could barely hear him muttering under his breath, only for him to bang his hands down onto the piano keys. The crash sounded through the room, John covering his ears for a second before Freddie fell forward onto the instrument.

"I shouldn't be here...He's going to..." He whispered, a long sigh following his sentence as he seemed to snap back into reality. "Where'd I put that music?" He asked, desperately looking for some sort of distraction from his thoughts.

"Freddie?"

He jumped in his spot, looking directly at him with panicky eyes. It was immediately struck down by some invisible force, a haze slowly covering his face as he stared at him with a now neutral expression with an empty smile that physically hurt both of them.

"Fred, is something wrong?"

"Now why would something be wrong? Everything's just fine. Look! We're back in the...the studio again and...and we...we have our...I'm happy with Bret and that's..." He managed, anxious sparks starting to light up his eyes as they darted around the room. "I want to go practice that song again." He said suddenly, but stayed in place. "I mean...He might be calling the flat right now" He continued, dropping the suggestion and rambled on. "...Oh lord what if something happened to him and he's trying to call me-"

"Freddie...So what if he's calling? He's not a child."

"But I gotta be there for him! I can't abandon him for anything like this...What if something happened to him or-"

"Then he would've called the studio if it was that urgent." John answered, pausing for a second while Freddie's mind continued to bustle with everything he really wanted to say. "He's not going to be upset." John finally said.

"Ha! You think that. Anyone should be upset if you don't answer the phone, right?"

"They'd be a bit miffed but it's nothing they should hold a grudge over. Fred, it's fine. He won't do anything to you."

Freddie gave a disbelieving look his way. That's what you think. He seemed to say. The bruise beneath his eye seemed to keep talking for him, John's own fury towards Freddie's boyfriend quickly growing.

"He's not going to do a damn thing to you." He promised. "Trust me. You trust me, right?"

Another lost light arose in Freddie's gaze as he continued to stare in his direction. "O-of course." He managed. "I-I'm just being silly right now." He took a deep breath, putting on another mask of ease and looked back down at the piano. "C'mon, I wanna show you what I've got done on this."

"Freddie please-"

"I think I finally got something worthwhile here. Took forever but I think it's good."

All John could do was agree, his shoulders going slack as he gave into Freddie's request. He'd lost it again. That sole chance to get Freddie to finally say something about what was bothering him or for him to at least come to the realization of what was going on. Yet he remained living in that fantasy world that Bret had gladly created for him, trapping him somewhere that ruined his perception of the world around him, the real world where the reality was something Freddie just didn't want to face again.

...

"I think it came out good this time! What do you think?"

"Sounds great actually. We could get Brian and Roger's bit in next time and the song's just about done!" John replied happily as they finished up with their bits for Freddie's track.

"Finally! Good lord it's been ages since we've finished a song, hasn't it?" Freddie exclaimed as he shot up from the piano and took of the headphones and let them hang around his neck.

"Feels like a decade."

John sat up from his stool and laid his bass back on the rack behind him, Freddie playing a quick, jaunty tune on the piano before pulling away and smiling softly. He stretched in place, rubbing his uninjured eye while John checked his watch. Hours had flown by like it had been only a few seconds, that old sense of pride returning and pushing away the previous shame from earlier regarding how he had been this morning. And yet, Freddie had seemed to take it in for him. Freddie's energy felt forced and it was still unable to hide any of the worry on his face from view. If it was an emergency, he'd call the studio. He told himself, wishing that Freddie himself would believe him when he tried telling him that once or twice over the past few hours that they had been working.

"Think we should head back or get the others over here?" John asked. "I mean then we'll actually have something done."

"Nah, lemme show you what I've got really quickly. Come here, there's a chair right there." Freddie said, motioning towards one of the nearby stools.

Instantly, John obeyed, grabbing the small chair and placing it next to the piano that Freddie was sat at. As if by instinct, Freddie began to play what he had been working on for ages, his soft humming mixing in with every chord he played. John could only watch as he effortlessly made his way across the keys, every finger delicately dancing across the whites and blacks and forming a solemn melody that one would find in a bar late Saturday night. Even without the lyrics, one could already smell the smoke and the gin or whisky that lingered through the dimly lit tavern. Stragglers, moneyless, and broken hearts sat around, a foggy cloud growing over their eyes as they all tried to forget their troubles for a few moments. Freddie stayed focused on his playing, a small smile coming across his face now that the song was finally coming together after he had spent so long without getting to play or sing it.

"So?" He asked after he played the final keys.

"W-well...Certainly is much better than a few months ago."

Freddie's face went red. "I try!" He piped, rubbing the back of his head and giving a shy smile.

He scooched over ever so slightly, starting to play another bit of music on the piano that John didn't quite recognize. If only it was another song, maybe they were finally getting their singer back. Not that hollow shell of what he once was. He continued listening, Freddie keeping most of his focus on the piano but giving the occasional glance in his direction.

As soon as a smile spread across Freddie's face, the phone rang from the back room. Freddie froze instantly, the music being cut off as John looked down towards the sound. A shadow creeped over Freddie's face as he continued staring down at the piano, as though he was now trying to drown out the sound.

"I'll get it. It's probably just Roger calling or something." John told him, even though he strongly doubted his words.

Freddie only shrugged, continuing to stare at the piano while he moved his hands down to the chair beneath him. By the time he stood up, his knuckles had gone white as his hands moved ever so slightly so he could tighten his grip to stable himself. John rushed back to the phone, taking in his own deep breath before picking it up.

"Where the hell-"

"Yes, hello Bret." John replied, his voice turning icy once his name slipped out of his mouth.

"Oh great! Look is Freddie there? I've been calling your damn flat all day and he hasn't picked up!"

"We're at the studio. He wanted to come here and I tagged along." He explained.

"Get him on the phone already. I want to talk to him." Bret ordered in an impatient voice.

"You talked yesterday! Let him live a little!"

"Let me talk to him already." He repeated, this time with a much lower voice, the hidden threat coming out within the following seconds of silence.

He couldn't risk it. Angering him wouldn't end well if he ever saw Freddie again. To think he'd only blame himself...John sighed and gave in, covering the end of the phone and calling for their singer. It took much longer than it should've, Freddie dragging himself into the room while clutching his right arm. He kept a painful smile on his face, yet still shot him a pleading look for him to not talk right now.

"It's Bret. He just wants to talk." John told him softly.

The grip around Freddie's arm tightened as he reached out with his right hand, tentatively taking the phone from him and placing it up to his ear. John stepped back, barely hearing Bret's low voice from his place. He didn't even need to know what it was he was saying, nor did he care. He already knew it wasn't good and the hurt and fearful look on Freddie's face only confirmed his suspicions. His breathing began to go ragged as his jaw twitched, Freddie slowly moving his legs to cover up his lower body and slowly tugging at his jacket to the point it nearly ripped the sleeve off.

"O-okay..." Freddie whispered. "I-I'll be o-outside."

He hung up the phone. Freddie avoided his stare as he turned around. His frame went slack as he slowly began walking towards the front of the studio.

"H-he just wants to spend some time with me. Isn't that grand!" He said in a sickening trusting tone. "Oh lord he's such a sweetheart."

Something immediately punched his gut at that dastardly sentence coming out of Freddie's mouth once again. Grand? Sweetheart? How on earth...How the hell could Freddie honestly think that? He had heard Bret's voice. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't kind. Not an ounce of sincerity or even worry sat in his voice. It was annoyed. It was angry. And he knew Freddie had heard the exact same voice he did yet decided to ignore it and morph it into some twisted version of what was actually happening.

"Y-you can stay here for a bit. Maybe get some more music done." Freddie suggested, John now starting to follow him out to the front of the building.

Just as Freddie opened the front door, John paused and called out a quick "Be safe!" to Freddie. The split-second pause that ensued told him he had heard him, even when he only shut the door behind him in response. John felt his shoulders fall as he looked back towards the room behind him, immediately following his instincts and rushing back there, dialing the number engrained into his head and impatiently tapping his food against the carpet. Every ring drove him mad, his desperation taking over his anger every single time he heard that dammed noise from the other end.

"Roger...Brian...C'mon already...Just fucking get home already!" He growled, another ring sounding out and making him slam down the phone down. Please...Please just get home. He won't do anything there and I...I can't follow them there. I can't do anything to stop him. Just get home at least then he'll be okay...Even for a few more moments, he'll be okay...

...

John could only spend another hour desperately trying to work on his song, or at least the piano bit while no one else was there. Yet his mind wasn't focused on the music. He couldn't stop imagining Freddie in his spot and playing the music for him, doing it in a much better way than he ever would and doing it without batting an eye. Once that hour had closed, John fell onto the piano and growled out of frustration, unable to stand listening to that music or having the lyrics bustle through his mind. Being free and suddenly just flying away from all your problems! Yeah, like that's gonna happen anytime soon.

But how he wished it were true. That he could really just look outside and fly off into the sky. Away from his past, his love for Freddie that wouldn't ever become a reality, and his disconnection from his life and surroundings. There had to be someplace out there for him and yet he was stuck there, reminders constantly being thrown in his face of how little he could do to actually change his situation so he wouldn't be stuck in this hell anymore.

An image of a grey woods flashed in his mind. He felt like he was sixteen once more. His breath billowing into the air in the form of a pale cloud, the icy wind whisking it away in a second. Animals scuttled around him, chattering away. The sound of the distant party sounded like he was at a concert. He wanted his thoughts to leave him alone, but the girl's laughter stuck out and made his stomach shrink.

He glanced towards the ticking clock on their wall, seeing the minute-hand hide right next to the twelve again, the shorter one now almost right on top of the large nine that was plastered atop the clock's white face. An hour. A whole hour. He would bet everything he owned that Brian and Roger were still out and that Freddie was alone with Bret. Whether it be at their flat or at Bret's own place, Freddie most certainly wasn't safe. Anyone who had heard that deadly tone in Bret's voice would be aware of that. And what had he done? He let him go...

John forced himself up, staring blankly at the wall for a second before managing to carry himself out of the room. His body shifted into autonomy while his mind occupied itself with incoherent, jumbled thoughts. Not a single thought of his own made itself known, it was all just a bunch of haunting and unnerving scenarios of what could happen, what had happened, or what he could've done. Freddie ending up in the hospital because of how badly damaged he'd gotten, that cruel girl showing up in the woods with her friends once December rolled around, or just straight up socking Bret in the jaw that day when he had bashed Freddie right in front of him. 

Snowflakes hit his face, John squinting his eyes as a harsh wind struck his unprepared frame. The roads had begun to grow white, the grassy areas already blanketed. One could only hear the rushing wind or the distant engines rumbling from any passing cars. He looked up at the night sky, only seeing a smoky grey completely cover any of the stars that sat behind the opaque clouds.

He tore himself out of his rushing thoughts, though many still sat at the back of his mind. A shiver ran through his body as soon as he sat down in his car, the cold leather seeping right through the fabric of his jeans. Immediately, he turned the car on, wishing it would heat up sooner than later. Unconsciously, John also turned on the radio, the old station Freddie had on earlier coming out with more unrecognizable music. He didn't bother listening for more than a few seconds, he didn't want to think of Freddie right now. He switched it to another station, hearing the electronic beat of a synth replace the gospel that had been on a second prior.

Driving home felt so different than driving to the studio. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image of Freddie happily singing along earlier out of his mind. It had seemed to be a blessing in disguise to hear that beautiful voice of his and to see him smile; just how happy he had been and how much of his old, no, real self had come through again was something he really had missed: because of him he'd actually gotten out of bed today, he had been productive, and the reason why he was now driving back home at such a late hour. Without him, he probably would still be there thinking over all the thoughts that were still in his mind and keeping him from really feeling much at all. Oddly enough, all he could think of now was how Roger had been in the same predicament and Brian had tried to get him up and failed abysmally.

Their flat came into sight, John giving a soft sigh before parking his car into its allotted space. God he was a coward. His hands froze to the steering wheel as he forced his eyes to stay off of the flat off to his left. It was that thought that kept him pinned there, unable to move or think about anything else. How could he face him again? Especially if he had to see another bruise upon his body because he refused to leave Bret behind; but even that paled in comparison to that empty stare in his eyes that constantly haunted his thoughts: sad, empty, solemn and bleak. Lord knows how contradictory they were to who he really was. The memory of him smiling back when they first met seemed like it had only been a dream or Freddie putting on a show for everyone again like he always did. John didn't want to even contemplate the idea that he was this sad that he'd lock himself up with that brute. What was really getting at him was how long ago he could've stopped this from happening and what did he do? He was a coward, like he always was; his mind always got the better of him and forced him into silence, always claiming that problems would arise if he said anything. By this point it felt repetitive for him to even think about it: what could've been.

Realizing that his hands were starting to go purple from how long they had stayed immobile in the cold, John tore himself out of the same old thoughts and released his tight grip on the steering wheel. He looked behind him, Roger's car still sitting just where it had been this afternoon and Brian's still missing. And yet, another black vehicle sat where Brian usually did park. John looked away and shoved himself out of the car, locking it behind him and staring angrily at the car behind him. Without hesitation, he held out the key to his car and headed right over, slashing a long line into the paint with his key. He added another, and another, satisfaction filling his chest as he looked down at his quick work. Three harsh, white lines sat among the black paint, John now tightly holding the key and turning away from the car. 

He made his way upstairs, rummaging through his keychain and holding out the bronze key to their flat. Before he even reached the door, he could already hear muffled shouting from behind the door and heavy footsteps marching around. John didn't even give it a second to manifest itself in his mind. He rushed ahead, dug his key into the lock, and flung the door open. He reacted instantly, ducking as soon as he saw something flying in his direction. Glass shattered from his right, the broken shards of Freddie's cat statue laying on the ground.

"-think everything's about you!" Bret howled. Freddie cowered in the corner, holding his hands up to try and protect himself, the sides of his arms already covered in fresh, swollen bruises. Faint "I'm sorry"s came out of Freddie's mouth while tears streamed down his face. He didn't even look his way, but Bret did. His eyes were ablaze with fury, not an ounce of any sort of care inside of them. John nearly backed away to avoid getting hurt himself, his body already trembling beneath Bret's hard stare, but he forced himself to remain where he stood.

"Oh, hey John." Bret said in a much calmer voice. "Sorry 'bout that. He was just acting up again." He straightened himself out. "Isn't that right Fred? Just a little row."

Freddie could only nod as he continued to stare blankly at the floor, the light long gone from his brandy eyes. "Acting out..." He managed.

"See."

It all happened in a flash. His mind going blank, Freddie's shout from behind him, and his fist coming in contact with Bret's nose. He barely felt Freddie's hands on his jacket and his pleading to stop hurting Bret but John kept it up, adding another blow to the side of that brute's face and a hard strike with his knee right to his groin, sending Bret right down to the ground.

"Stop! Stop it please! H-he didn't mean it-" Freddie pleaded, John's mind finally registering what it was he was yelling at him.

The room spun around him, John trying to steady himself by putting his weight against the couch and holding his head. His arms and knuckles ached, Bret's blood dripping off his hands while Bret groaned from in front of him. As soon as he tried getting up from his spot on the ground, John tried lunging at him once more, only for Freddie to cry out for him to stop and grab his arm once again.

"Keep your bloody hands off of him you no good-" John growled.

His sentence got caught off as Bret aimed right for his legs, knocking him over onto the couch. He looked up at Bret who towered over him, the dark stream of blood pouring out of his bleeding nose, multiple loose strands of blond hair hanging down in front of his cold blue eyes, and his lip turned upward into an ugly sneer turned him into a threatening beast that was ready for the kill.

"See what I mean. They don't listen to what you want. I do!" Bret said, turning his attention over to Freddie. "Do you really want to be with anyone who hurts your boyfriend?"

"Oh you can piss off you fucking brute!" John barked as he sat up. "You're the one who bloody beats him!"

"Beats him? Is that what he's been telling you?" He asked, but added a harsh glare towards Freddie who seemed to shrink under his stare. "Now isn't that ridiculous! Really. Like you've never seen anyone get into some harsh rows before. I'm guessing he didn't mention the time he snogged some broad while I was in the same room? Or about the time he nearly got us kicked out of a restaurant because he was being stubborn? Look I'm just helping him learn to listen more since he does such a shit job at it." 

"And so you do that to him?!"

"It's a fight. Are you that daft you don't know what a fight is?" Bret continued in his condescending tone. "He hits me too but you're the one accusing me."

"He was cowering in the corner!"

"Cause he knew he was wrong in what he did. I called this flat three times today and he didn't pick up when he knew I should've-"

"Freddie!" He interrupted, seeing his wide eyes instantly fall upon him. "C'mon Fred you shouldn't listen to him. He's twisting the situation around. He's controlling you, not helping you." John pleaded, pain immediately erupting in his stomach as he felt Bret's fist land square in the center of his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Freddie move towards him but freeze as soon as Bret turned his wild gaze onto him. Freddie turned his eyes away from him and stared at the ground, hugging himself tightly.

"Listen to the one who loves you. The one who's stayed with you through all of this unlike everyone who came before. You know I love you, right?"

Freddie's stare broke as reluctantly nodded.

John gave a harsh cough as he held his stomach. "Fred...Don't listen. Y-you know that lying bastard c...cheated on you."

Bret's eyes ignited once again. "Cheated? Now why would I ever cheat on him?"

"I-I saw y-you. In that...that restaurant w-with that...guy." John got out, sending a threatening stare Bret's way.

Bret gave a harsh laugh, but there was a bit of fear hiding under it, as though he was afraid of losing this battle. "Such a riot. Freddie are you going to trust someone like that who beats people up because you got in a row with your boyfriend? The others fight and he doesn't intervene. The other two don't either. Trust me, I'm not cheating on you. I just go out with friends every now and then."

But Freddie couldn't face him. Both knew that Bret was just spewing lies at this point, but only one could vocally admit it. With that slight hesitation, Bret's anger resurfaced as he marched over to where Freddie was, his eyes growing hard while Freddie's body shook like it was outside without a coat.

"How can you not trust your own boyfriend? Surely you love me and that means you trust me." Bret told him, earning another hesitant stare from Freddie who continued to shake violently, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes. A cruel light formed in Bret's eyes, that desire for power seeping back in as he pulled a look of mock contempt. In his broken state, Freddie could only helplessly stare up at him, trying so hard to break that terrifying expression and say anything that would calm him back down. But Bret knew what he was doing. He gave one last look of disgust Freddie's way, panic now lighting up Freddie's eyes as he turned around to chase after him, calling out Bret's name until he slammed the door behind him. Freddie banged his fists against the wooden door as his harsh sobbing filled the room.

"No...No please...D-don't go...Please...I'm so sorry...I shouldn't..." Freddie said between sobs. John managed to straighten himself out, his stomach whining in protest and making him clutch it to try and ease the pain. Freddie turned around and looked up at the ceiling, adding a sad, longful look his way. All those emotions seemed to return to his eyes at once and yet it remained dark and soulless. For a second he felt like he could see into Freddie's mind right through the storm that covered his eyes and all he could think of was that confession Freddie gave to him that night about how he truly felt about him.

"I'm sorry John...I-I didn't mean for you to get involved in that r-row..." He told him, the present memory only making this attempt to hide his emotions even more painful. Freddie's lip trembled. "I c-can't lose him because I'm being an idiot. I just...can't." He whispered in his direction, his eyes never moving off of him.

John tried to speak, but his words wouldn't come out anymore. He felt sick himself, both from the blow to his stomach and the guilt that was now eating at his conscious. He broke away from Freddie for a second and looked down at his bruised fist, Bret's drying blood covering each hand. Tears of anger began welling up in the corners of his eyes. He screwed up. Freddie was crying and hurt now because of him. Because he couldn't just stay out of it and wait for Freddie to come to his senses. It was his fault.

"I can't..." Freddie muttered one last time, a thick fog forming over his eyes. John winced as he tried to move towards him, only able to watch as Freddie began dazedly walking across the living room and down the hall. John looked down after him, wishing he could call out for him to come back, wishing he could apologize and it'd set everything right.