𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄.

chapter 𝐬𝐢𝐱.

ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖⁱᵉ

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎤 ‧₊˚

[ galileo ]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝. His gaze washed over the vibrant green grass, nose basking in the refreshing air the countryside offered. 

Taking one last puff of his cigarette, he flicked it away, and it landed on the gravel road, before he made his way back inside and up into his bedroom. There, he took a seat at the large, shiny piano, and allowed his fingers and mouth to work their magic. 

Soon, he had formed a melodic masterpiece, and began singing, "Goodbye, everybody, 

I've got to go.

Gotta leave you all behind,

And face the truth.

Mama, ooh,

I don't wanna die.

I sometimes wish,

I'd never been born at all."

"Freddie." He looked up, finding you with a dropped jaw and a plate of bacon and eggs sitting loosely in your hand. You were far too stunned to speak, or to hold the plate properly, and Freddie chuckled with a gasp. 

Not even a few hours later, Freddie and the band had already begun production on 'Bohemian Rhapsody'. 

In the recording studio, Brian was inside, playing the riff for the song, his brows knitted in concentration. Freddie was sitting with RT, pressing certain muttons and sliding knobs up and down on the station. You, Roger and Deacy were sitting on the velvet sofa behind them, swaying your heads and tapping your fingers to each change in sound. 

Brian came to a stop, looking up as Deacy turned the music off. "What next?" he asked as Freddie smiled. 

"That was pretty damn good. Brilliant. I love that," the singer praised.

"Press the button, Freddie," Brian said, not hearing the compliment.

"Yeah, just, just-."

"I know. I know where it is," he cut off RT, who was guiding him to where the button was. "I know where...knock, knock."

"Good."

Freddie chuckled, "It's good. Um...You know, play it like you wrote it."

"Well, I did. I wrote that part."

"Taking the piss," Freddie grinned childishly.

"Okay. Are you happy?" the guitarist questioned.

"I think it's beautiful. It's almost perfect."

"Almost?"

"Yes, give it more rock and roll!"

"Well, I'm always up for that, Fred."