The mid-afternoon light seeped in through the dusty old curtains of the second floor room of the Dovedale Towers. A hoard of boys and girls all waking up one by one, Freddie already mucking about across the room, fiddling with his hair in the mirror propped up against the paint-chipped walls. Nice of Geoff's mom to let us stay here, you thought to yourself, somewhat wondering what she'd think of walking in on the whole slew of people passed out on the floor.

You stared at the patchwork ceiling a moment and then got up to tiptoe your way over to Freddie, still diligently messing with his coiffure.

"Mm, good morning Freddie" you said in sing-song as you gently gave him a peck on the cheek and nuzzled in to a good morning hug, resting your head on his shoulder as he looked in the mirror.

"Good morning dear," he replied with a smile and a kiss on the head, then quickly returning his continually frustrated position. He posed this way in that, ruffled tuffs here and there, "Hm," he sighed, rather disgruntled.

"Aw Freddie you look lovely," you replied, giving him a little rub on the opposite shoulder.

"But I've got to look perfect, I am a star after all," he replied, turning his face side to side. You laughed, he then put his hands on his hips, "Well I suppose this'll have to do".

A devilish little smile streaked itself across your face, Freddie still sat staring at himself in the mirror, "Now what would happening if I..." you slowly creeped your hands up to the top of his head, "Did this!" you shouted and ruffled his hair. He squealed and tried to fix his hair but it was no use. He then came running after you trying to tickle at your side, but you took refuge up on the windowsill. You scooted back as far as you could into the bay window, but it was no use he got to you anyway, making you giggle.

Miffer stiffly unstuck his head from his pillow, looked up at us and groaned, then returning back to his face planted position. You took your chance to escape Freddie's clutches and popped off the windowsill, walking over to your bag as Freddie fiddled with this hair once more, huffing about, "Can't a guy sleep?" complained Miffer, the sound muffled by the pillow.

You snatched up the comb and walked over, past Miffer, "It's nearly three," you replied to which Miffer groaned once more, turned over, and checked his watch.

You returned to Freddie and began brushing his hair for him, he liked the attention, "Better?" you said combing through it a bit and getting it just right.

Freddie admired himself in the mirror, "Better," he replied.

The room slowly began to stir as more people got up and about. Funny how as a whole the whole lot of you somehow slept in to about the same time, always a fascination for you to witness.

You got all dressed up in a comfortable little number and Freddie glammed up all in his outfit for the gig. Everyone had a sort of excitement about them this afternoon. Tupp adorned his golden locks with a floppy blanket hat straight from the cover of Hendrix's Greatest Hits. Mike's afro looked much more electrified today than usual, it was almost like a mood ring sort of oddity, always seemed to flow with his energy level and excitement. Miffer on the other hand just looked rather tired and disgruntled, but nonetheless excited. Everyone else was in good spirits as well, so lively. Sîan and Helen had both dressed up in lovely dresses and Peggy had dressed up a lot like you. The rest of the boys, Ken and Geoff and all them, dressed comfortably like yourself. Much of their day today would consist of helping out to get the Ibex boys up on stage with everything they needed. Geoff was planning on recording the show tonight and so he'd spent some time this afternoon running off to get all the necessary equipment.

Roger, Brian, and Tim had stopped by, they'd be playing a gig themselves The Green Door or something rather, you hadn't quite remembered the name. They wanted to hang out for a few hours before the gig. You all got to talking for awhile while everyone still got their things together—Freddie of course still finding himself in front of the mirror fiddling with his hair. Even Mike had had enough! He went over and got on to Freddie a bit, to which Freddie only replied with "But I'm a star, dear boy!", that left even Mike a little miffed.

Once you and Ibex all had your things together Bruce suggested you all head down to Peter Kavanagh's for a quick drink since The Sink didn't serve alcohol. Everyone seemed to like the idea so the whole crew then filed down the stairs and into the van. Astounding you all could fit even with the addition of Bri, Rog, and Tim.

Next thing you knew you all were piling out of the van in the parking lot of the Liverpool Art College, Peter Kavanagh's was a quick walk away. The whole lot of you were lively and excited, pre-gig jitters you supposed.

You began making your way down the sidewalk a little ways when suddenly out from around a corner came a whole gang of skinheads.

"Aw nah," exclaimed Ken as they approached the group looking rather tough. They all lined up right in front of you all, making you feel about 2 feet tall in comparison. Their heads were all shaven, braces holding up their trousers, and their steel-toed bovver boots stood in front of you rather menacingly. Clearly they wanted some sort of trouble.

"Get a'load of this right bunch of poofs, Al" said one guy to another, in a voice that suggested this group had a policy of beating up anything they didn't like. Al looked pleased, and laughed a little.

From behind you, you heard Rog mutter, "I've got this," and then he proceeded to step out in front of you, rather proudly, "I wouldn't come looking for trouble here if I were you," stated Roger, hands on hips.

"And why's that," continued the first guy, a second guy behind him cracked his knuckles and its deafening noise nearly shattered your eardrums as you gulped. You looked to see Freddie at your side nearly shaking in his satin, but trying to stay collected and cool.

"Well you see, I'm a black belt in judo," continued Roger, flashing out his student ID card, "Just thought I'd warn you first, the law says I've got to. I'd hate for you to ignore my warnings and get hurt without knowing it was your own look-out".

You all looked stunned and baffled a moment mainly out of fear, a few heads in hands of course, but the skinheads seemed rather maliciously amused.

"You don't try it on with scouse skins, you idiot!" hissed Geoff, and continued to Tupp next to him, "Bastard Taylor, he'll get us bloody massacred!"

"Well?" stated Roger, hands on his hips.

The main leader of the group paused a moment and smugly grinned in approval, "Alright," he nodded his head. Before you even had time to register what had just happened the group of skinheads had already made their way around you and down the street.

"You fucking twit," Geoff said as a gave Rog a quick hit on the arm.

"Hey! At least they let us off!" replied Roger.

"Just barely," interjected Mike. Roger just rolled his eyes and continued to stroll down the street rather proud of himself. The rest of you were still shaking in your velveteen trousers.

You continued on down to Peter Kavanagh's and next thing you knew you were walking in the door and sitting down at a table with Freddie and Roger. Guinness all around except for Freddie, he's drinking his usual port and lemon to save his voice for this evening.

Everyone's all aglow and once again telling stories, currently Pat is being teased for her crush on Roger she used to have for a long while, which started their friendship in the first place. Miffer is sitting with his girlfriend telling her some 'harrowing' tails of his days as a milkman. Mike is chatting with some guy up at the bar, you'd never seen him before but Mike clearly knows him well.

You and Freddie sit at the table listening away, you're both rather quiet this afternoon, maybe that was because mentally Freddie was preparing for this evening. Freddie was sort of tapping his fingers up against the table, almost in a musical sort of way.

"Nervous?" you asked him quietly.

"No dear—well, slightly," he replied sort of swiftly and smiled almost nervously but sort of relaxed nervously, like he'd settled into it.

"There's nothing to be nervous about, tonight is going to go fabulously," you tried to calm him, and of course you knew it to be true.

"But what if I don't win them over?" said Freddie swirling his port and staring into the glass, almost mesmerized by the tinkling of the ice cubes in the bottom, but more likely it was his thoughts and fears that troubled him.

"Win them over?" you said, even though you knew what he meant.

"The audience, I really want to give them a good show," replied Freddie, taking a sip of his port. You grabbed his hand and rubbed the top of his thumb soothingly.

"Freddie, I promise you, tonight will be perfect," you said, knowing it of course to be true.

"Promise?" said Freddie, looking into your eyes.

"Of course," you smiled, and gave him a reassuring kiss. He could be so doubtful of himself. You knew he didn't truly deep down doubt his ability to preform, but there still was a tinge of uncertainty always that had to be accounted for. The two of you sat a moment more, your head on his shoulder. Nothing more lovely than him by your side.

Mike popped up from the bar and came over to you and Freddie, "Hey Freddie, y/n, come and meet one of my mates from school. He really wants to meet you Freddie". He was obviously in good spirts to see an old friend. You and Freddie got up and made your way over to the bar, "This is Phil".

Freddie shook his hand like he'd known the man for years, smiling with his teeth for once, obviously feeling a little more confident now. You shook Phil's hand as well and greeted him a nice hello. The two of you sat down at the bar along with Phil and Mike and Freddie ordered up another port and lemon.

"So are you from London, man?" asked Phil, completely intrigued and fascinated by Freddie's foreign physique apparently.

"Bit further from there, my friend, Zanzibar" he replied, as the bartender handed him his drink and he took a swift swig.

"Zanzibar!?" exclaimed Phil, Freddie seemed amused, "What exactly are you doing here then? Isn't that some sort of island paradise?"

Freddie laughed a bit, continually amused, "It once was a land of peace, tranquillity, and beauty, wild beasts and spiritual calm. Well at least it was until we were run out of the country by an Arab dictator ship, I've been in London ever since," Freddie rarely got fanciful about his past but apparently he was interested in being spellbinding this afternoon. He took a bit of pride in his tale.

"Fascinating!" replied Phil, completely enamored.

"Tell him about India," you egged Freddie on.

"India?!" exclaimed Phil, Freddie amused once more with his enthusiasm.

Freddie laughed, "My parents sent me to boarding school in Panchgani when I was just a boy".

"You have the most interesting life," replied Phil, star-struck even before Freddie was the star he'd become.

"That's just the beginning," said Freddie taking sip, clearly satisfied.

"You coming to the gig tonight?" you asked Phil.

"Oh yeah, me and a couple more of my mates—Mike you remember Al and Ralph," Phil replied.

"How could I forget, my god Ralph in Mrs. Williams' maths, nearly got himself expelled once or twice," remarked Mike.

"Ha, yeah Ralph's still as rowdy as ever," commented Phil, "We should be right up front tonight, or at least that's the plan. Maybe we'll see you there".

"Well you'd better," laughed Freddie, "We'll be up on stage dear boy!"

"Of course," Phil laughed as well, "I meant—y/n, was it?"

"Yeah, y/n," you replied with a smile.

"Now where exactly in Zanzibar are you from," continued Phil.

"My god you'd think he'd had enough of the gen?" laughed Freddie.

"Come on now, you can't blame me for being curious," quipped back Phil, defending himself. You had to admit Freddie in person always did attract a sort of questioning about him, he sort of drew you too him and the more you learned the more questions you had. He pretty much left you speechless these days.

Freddie, Phil, Mike, and yourself all continued the conversation into late evening. Bri, Rog, and Tim all left for their gig and soon you'd be leaving for your own. For now it was just a few drinks and a good conversation among friends, the jittery excitement of the evening all bubbling about inside you. 

_______

I included some photos for reference with this chapter. I'll start at the top row. So in the top row are some photos from the Dovedale Towers, I couldn't find any really good one's of the era (one had an unconfirmed date) but the first one gives you a good idea of it's outside. The other two in the top row are of the second floor room where Freddie and the group all stayed, they were remodeling it so it didn't look that nice back then. The ceiling and walls in the second pic can give you a good idea of what it looked like before, and the third shows the layout of the room best, the windowsill and hardwood floors. The second row is just some photos of Liverpool Art College, just a good reference for Roger's judo showdown (my god would I have liked to have been there for that—or maybe I wouldn't have). The third row finally is of Peter Kavanagh's, that pub has been there for ages. The last time it was apparently refurbished was 1929. I don't have any specific confirmation on whether or not that was the pub they went to, but it was the most-possible candidate out of all the pubs in the area, based on their run-in outside the art college. I imagine that would be a very cool place to hang.