The Love I Never Gave-Maylor

Terminal Illness

I'm crying right now, this chapter broke my heart but it's not the saddest part of the story, yet. Anyhow, this is in a different level of hurt by itself. I'm sorry, Freddie:(

Few Days Later

Roger's POV

Freddie had something going on with him. He wasn't acting his usual, cheerful self. Could it be his illness? He said that he had a cold, but I didn't believe it and instead believed that it was some other illness that was the cause for his behavior. His smiles quavered, trembling at the tips, struggling to keep a grin. 

Whenever he talked, his voice, something about it sounded fake. The usual perky, delighted voice was dead and was replaced with an act to try to imitate the same sound. He was hiding a secret and it couldn't be a good one either. I went back to playing to playing my drums when the same worrying sound rang into my ears. Cough. Cough. Freddie. I looked up from my drums and was greeted with the sight coughing his guts out into a tissue. Rough, gnarly sounds filled each one of them with a slight squirt at the end. It echoed around in my ears, never leaving as they continued. Once the sound stopped, he grasped his head, pulling at his hair and scrunching them up into wafts, tugging at them. I stood from my drumset, ready to go help him but John reached him first as he was already at his side.

"Freddie, are you okay?"

He stayed crouched down, hand still clutching his head with John holding him by the arm and waist. When he refocused, looking up and gave him a smile to prove he was fine.

"Never better!"

John loosened his grip on him and walked back to his original seat, leaving Freddie in a vulnerable state. He opened up his crushed tissue and stared into it. What was inside of it? Body twitched, going crazy to find out what it was that made Freddie intrigued enough to stare at it. With my own eyes already wide, his eyes widened before looking around the room and replacing his expression with a serious, scrunched up, creased face. He crumpled up his napkin and stuffed it back into his pocket. Clearing his throat, his fake persona appeared and an energetic voice chirped at the rest of us to take position. Brian scoffed as he took his place next to me, but I didn't care. Brian was the least of my worries, Freddie, he indeed was the most of my worries.

Hours Later

Freddie's POV

It was the end of the practice session, the time I had been waiting for all day. My symptoms of illness only became worse as time kept coming and going on. Today was no exception, in fact, today had been worse than most days. More coughing than usual. Most times they would come on randomly but not too much and as of this day, I've had more attacks than any other day. Dryness filled my throat, full of scars and cuts, burning with each gulp, irritating any surrounding tissue. 

Any sort of clearing it out made it worse than it already was, huge lumps in my throat aching and rubbing together. Body felt weak, muscles sore and dull pain everywhere. Nothing had turned for the best only for the worst as I was slowly dying. Tingles filled my throat and sparks went off as more phlegm choked me up. Another coughing fit was coming and I darted to the tissue box, pulling all the tissues I could out of it, coughing my life onto them. One of the tissues escaped my grasp and fell to the ground. 

Oh no you don't. I snapped forward to retrieve it and that's when my sleeves gave out and dozens of coughed up bloody tissues fell out of them, sprinkling down onto the ground in a flood. No! I swept my hand over everything, grasping the fallen napkins, picking them up as fast as I could before anyone saw them. It wasn't until silence drowned the room that I looked up to see everyone staring directly at me and the napkins spotted and drenched in dark red blood. Their eyes wide open, never blinking, eyebrows high on their faces and mouths gaping, no words coming out. Roger's eyes filled up with tears as he stared. Even Brian stood still, on the other side of things. John, his body tense, not moving a single muscle. There was nothing I could do now, except tell them everything. Croaks went off before I could form words, hesitating to say anything.

"I've been...meaning to tell you about this for a long time..."

Words halted and disappeared into thin air and I ran off, as fast as I could go over to a place where no one knew my name and where I couldn't be humiliated.

Roger's POV

I couldn't let Freddie run off like that, he was terribly ill and I wouldn't allow him to keep going through this alone and in secret. I dashed out of the room, air flowing my jacket and blowing through my hair. One step after the other, getting closer to wherever Freddie hid. At one point, an intersection that spread off into separate room came along. Storage room, that could be an option. Restroom, this was the one. I ran off to over there as it was the most obvious choice, you could lock yourself in there and no other rooms and no other rooms allowed for that without a key. I swung the door open and wailing cries echoed around the room, ringing in my ears. Freddie, crying, looking into the mirror shot his head away once my presence was known. He didn't enjoy or want my company as his black, scruffy hair was the only thing in my field of vision.

"Freddie?"

He jerked in movements before turning to face me and looking into my soul. Eyes red and irritated, tears sticking his lashes together and tears running down his red face. Hand cupped his mouth, trembling, fingers rubbing along his face. It wasn't until he revealed his face and showed it all the way through to me that flesh toned streak marks trickled down his pale, almost transparent real skin. His real self. Mouth fell open and mind went blank. Breathing jumping up and down, hurting at times. He's been hiding who he really was and now he had revealed his true self with no more secrets to hide.

His illness...much worse than I could've ever imagined, it was killing him.

"Please..."

Reality flowed back into me and I snapped out of my frozen state, going up to Freddie, clinging and holding onto him for dear life. With the free hand I still had, I turned the tap on and Freddie go the memo, bending down to wash his face off. I stood there, arms around him, making sure he couldn't lose his balance and fall or having a chance of fainting. Hand patted against his back softly, calming down his shooting, squeaking breaths and slowing down his jumping heart rate. Water splashed onto his face, clearing the last remains of any makeup he still had on. He squirmed underneath my grip and turned the tap off, going back up to stand in silence. His hands resting on the sink, head angled up, looking at himself in the mirror and crying. This was all it was for a few minutes in complete and other stillness until a voice broke the silence in the room

"Don't you ever look at yourself in the mirror and cry?" Freddie asked.

Memories flooded back into mind surrounding the question, a dark voice creeping in.I forced all of those thoughts to stop, trying to push them away into the deep depths of my mind and I spoke a complete lie.

"Sometimes, but rarely."

He looked at me directly in the eyes, brows furrowing in to form a questioning look but I spat out another sentence directing his attention to something else rather than on my blatant lie.

"O...oh, Freddie, what do you say we go back to where the others are?"

He froze up for a second before coming back to me, slowly nodding. I reached my hand over to him and he took it, squeezing it a bit, obtaining the feeling that he could trust me and be safe.