OPULENCE | Freddie Mercury Fanfiction

15. Kashmira

Freddie shrugged on a gold and black blazer, swaying a bit to get it settled on his shoulders, quickly pushing his arms through the sleeves. Tailored perfectly for him, the blazer hugged him in all the right places.

He strutted down the street on the way to the art studio, the sunlight glinting through the shine of his hair in little stripes of pure light.

He wandered up the hill, stooping to examine the flowers clustered around the base of the trees, watching the birds in the sky flit from branch to branch.

"I mean, she threw a huge fit in the middle of today's art class. My goodness." 

The pottery wheel spun in the art studio, rotating slowly with a soft whir.

To Kashmira, it looked like a giant hubcap, with a hole in it for a person to sit and another hole in it for the clay to fit through.

To others, the pottery wheel produced nothing more than a calming sound, similar to that of a fan.

But when Kashmira saw that a shape was materializing on the wheel in front of her, her mouth went dry and her chest began to tighten.

"No!" Kashmira began to scream, her hands slapping her head in constant succession, her screeching slicing through the air with a deafening echo. She shrieked and ripped off her art smock, continuing to scream even louder. The smock fluttered to the ground, landing on an easel. Horrified classmates stared at her, mouths hanging open and eyes wide.

"There's no use in trying to stop her," The art instructor lectured Freddie in his office. "And this isn't the first time..."

Kashmira stood out in the hall alone, fighting the urge to run, trying not to look anyone in the eye after her last panic episode that aired right in the middle of class in front of everyone.

Unfortunately, Freddie had been called into the studio's office by her art instructor. The door to his office was closed and Kashmira heard his blaring yelling at Freddie through it.

"What if there was a dangerous tool next to her? It would have led to an accident!"

Are they angry? She thought. Is it because of me? 

Even through her cloudy mind, the fear she felt then still made her heart flutter when she thought of it. The anger directed at her by the others still stung her eyes with tears when she thought of it.

All of them glared and glowered at her as if she was a threat, their expressions sharper than swords. The loud sound of the still spinning pottery machine in her mind still echoed in her ears, dinging like small bells, breaking into glass-like shards on the floor. She slapped the side of her head again, anxious breaths huffing.

"Anyway, we need to think of the safety of our art students," the art instructor informed Freddie, his mustache drooping over his frown. "And she's too much for us to handle."

She stood outside the office nervously listening to their conversation. They're angry, an eavesdropping Kashmira concluded.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled with fear while her stomach churned her nerves in a swirling pit in her gut. The shrill voice of the art instructor pierced her thoughts, and she jumped, startled out of her trance.

"Just send her to a special needs vocational school or a local community center. That will be best for everyone. What do you think?" The art instructor probed Freddie who hadn't said anything the entire time, only stared at him. "Will you please say something? Seriously?"

Peeking into the office through the sliver of light that showed through the ajar door, Kashmira tried to read Freddie's expression. She watched as his gaze slowly rose from the floor to meet hers.

He's angry at me?

Right before he finished emptying her locker, Freddie looked into the mirror inside it's door. He saw Kashmira sitting a distance behind him, nervously rocking back and forth in a chair.

He turned back to her, and she caught his eye. She sat small and quiet, fiddling hands twitching, dark eyes filled with worry when he walked over to her.

Freddie glanced up at her, smiled as much as he could feign, and his tone gentle, "Kashmira. Are you hungry?" She looked over at his face, searching his eyes for the kindness that she had known to value in him.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

A cool, spring breeze blew through the air, ruffling the leaves on the trees beside them - A chance for a calm-down walk as the sun began to sink behind the wave of the hill. "What do you want to eat?" Freddie asked Kashmira.

She did not respond, only moved her feet.

"You weren't planning to stay for long anyway..." Freddie said as they continued walking down the hill of the street, emerging onto a wide intersection and crossing it as the afternoon sun poked through the clouds and traveled with them. On they walked through the quiet streets. Lonely even.

"I'll find you a better art school. Promise." Freddie smiled at his sister and held out his pinkie as a promising peace offering.

Kashmira turned away and continued walking, her back to him like the sun that followed them both down the hill.

"Are you really that upset?" Freddie asked.

"Yakitori" Kashmira replied, still facing the path ahead as they walked.

Freddie raised his brow. "What?"

"Yakitori with extra sauce on the side. Let's go to Fujiyama. Not Gyu-Kaku." she smiled at him and Freddie wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. The sun beamed over Freddie's shoulder and seemed to ripple over the waters of a nearby lake.

"Well let's do it Kash, we'll just stuff ourselves with Fujiyama and have a damn good time won't we?"

Another thing Freddie could do to NOT to think about what he was incessantly thinking about...

The beauty of a nearby late spring meadow sent his mind back to Estella and how much she loved flowers. One of many things he adored about her: the way she gently grounded herself in appreciation for any dimension of beauty, no matter how subtle or simple, as if it was already who she was.

There it was again: The familiar pit of guilt when thinking about how much he wished to be with her. Escaping and evading the gravitational truth; the way she stirred something deeply undiscovered within him every time she was around; that there was no one else he truly wanted for him except her.