Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 59

One afternoon, after Roger and Bernie were done having a sneaky (and heated) kiss in the studio whilst everybody else was on a tea-food-toilet run, they sat on the floor of the booth together; him having a smoke. "Light me up," she nodded to the packet sitting in his hand.

"You don't smoke...?" He was so surprised by this statement that he took his almost fresh cigarette out of his mouth.

"Yeah but life's pretty shit right now so I could really do with a ciggie." She sighed, tipping her head back till it touched the wall and staring at the ceiling. She felt extremely weak for some reason and craved something new.

A grin came to Roger's lips. "You want this one?" He smirked.

"Sure."

"Come and get it then," he took a drag of the cigarette and held it at arm's reach, cheekily egging her on. Any other girl would have jumped straight on him, but Bernie sat where she was, feeling too oddly limp to make any attempt to grab at the cigarette held between Roger's fingers. Quickly, he picked up on her lack of enthusiasm to be playful, so he just handed her the packet instead. She took one out and he lit it.

Holding it masterfully by copying the way the band held their cigarettes from all the times she'd been present whilst they smoked away, she took a drag, held it in her mouth for a moment and blew the smoke out into the room.

"And you've never smoked before?" Roger raised his eyebrows, utterly bewildered as to how she managed to smoke so smoothly when it was supposedly 'her first time'.

"No, never. My parents hated the smell and their influence never gave me any interest to smoke. Until now." Bernie shrugged lightly, taking another, long drag from the cigarette. Roger had to really hold his tongue as he thought that seeing her sitting there in her figure-hugging jeans and paired belt, smoking a cigarette, was extremely sexy. She had a glint in her eye that just sent him crazy.

"You must really be feeling down to take it up now, then. After all these years." He put his arm round her shoulder and pulled her into him, rubbing her arm affectionately as they sat on the floor in the empty studio. He kissed the top of her head before she took another heavy drag of her cigarette and stood up steadily, hearing the crunch of the gravel outside.

"Yeah. But I don't wanna talk about it," she said sternly down to him on the floor, towering over him with strength that made him feel intimidated. She definitely wasn't one to be cooed over when she didn't feel like it, which Roger only found more attractive. Bernie was headstrong and had her own way of doing things.

Picking himself up off the floor, he wrapped his arms around her middle from behind and whispered into her ear: "you can tell me anything at anytime Birdie," before hastily making his way to the other side of the room as the others barricaded back into the studio, filling it with a liveliness once again. Even though she acted normal, Roger's words stuck with her and she sat on the sideboard next to where Freddie was sitting, leaning on one hand, smoking with one leg crossed over the other; deep in thought. Realistically her body was screaming to sit down, but she refused to cave to its weakness and instead blamed her lack of usual intense exercise for her jelly legs.

Bernie's stance was deeply distracting for Roger as he tried to drum for a song John was calling 'You're My Best Friend'. But her thoughts weren't with Roger or John or her best friend or anybody else in the room. Her mind was burrowed back home in London. There was only one more week at Rockfield until she had to return to reality, where Holden was sat undoubtedly awaiting her return. And she knew that there was no way he was going to let her slip through his fingers again. This time, he would have her, no matter what the cost. The fact that Bernie knew that the thought was extremely rational and that there'd be nobody there to help her was incredibly daunting and she wished to stay at the farm forever.

Giving in, she sat on the sideboard with one leg over the other. She bounced her foot. Stubbed out her cigarette.

The farm, where she was with the most trustworthy people she'd ever spent time with. The farm, where her troubles were four hours away. The farm, where life rumbled with the hubbub of companionship and family. Not home, where Flo had practically moved into June's. Home, where Bernie was living under the roof of her greatest fear. Home, where she had to go on an almighty job search. Home, that hummed with the sound of silence, being referred to by it's unworthy title - 'home'. Her parents had no idea of any of it and wouldn't want to know regardless, just at the time Bernie needed them the most. The consuming loneliness and domineering reality of the life she led was almost too much to bear and every time she thought about it, an overwhelming dizziness washed over her...

"Bernie? Bernie?"

Am I underwater?

"Bernadette!"

The sky is falling.

"Bernie, stay with us!"

All the stars have exploded.

"Somebody call 999."

"No, Brian, we don't need an ambulance, she's fine."

"Fuck off, Paul."

"Bernadette? Bernadette!!"

The ground is expanding...

Suddenly, Bernie's breath flew up her throat and her eyes shot open, body jolting as she regained consciousness. Coughing and heaving, she sat bolt upright, almost head butting Brian and Freddie.

"BERNIE!" Brian flung his arms around her and hugged her tightly, almost winding her. After a moment, he released her and held her shoulders, inspecting her ashen face. "Are you okay? What happened?"

Feeling extremely dazed and confused as to how and why she was here, she unsuccessfully fumbled around for her glasses, gave up and just lied back down weakly. For some reason, she found herself laying on the floor of the studio, the entirety of the band, Paul and Roy hovering over her. They felt so far away, as though if Bernie were to put her arms out, she still wouldn't be able to reach them. But they were only a couple of feet away and when she put her arms out, her hands brushed over John's collar and Freddie's hair. It was incredibly soft. "I don't know, what did happen?"

"Well dear, Brian, Roger and I were on that side of the glass with everyone else on this side. Deacy was listening to us play with Roy fiddling around with some buttons, so they were distracted. Then I hear Brian yell right down my lug and there you were, face white as a ghost, eyelids fluttering and body swaying as if you were about to faint, darling. And then you did, fell backwards and landed with a thump against the wall." Freddie recited the story of how Bernie ended up in such a way as she was currently.

22/3/23