Bohemian Rhapsody

You're My Best Friend Part Five

"Hey, Mare." Your voice sounded through the phone, leaning against your flats wall. Mary, you'd known since Freddie and her had become dating, and had been fast friends since, bonding over long hours of waiting for Freddie and Roger to finish band practice, or performances, or recording.
"Aza, What's up?" She had a smile on her voice. You loved that about Mary - always cheerful.
"Just wondering if you and Freddie wanna go out for drinks tonight? I can't... I just don't really want to be in the apartment right now." You chewed your lip.
She paused. "I heard the argument with Roger." Her voice was hesitant - didn't want to get you upset.
"Think the whole street heard it." You laughed a little, but it was half hearted.
"I've never heard you two argue before... sorry, I guess that's not helping."
"No, it's fine. And we do argue. Maybe not like that. But I ... I'm sure it'll be fine. We just need a bit of time apart."
"Maybe it'll be good for you two." She said brightly. "You've got a great friendship and all, but you spend all your free time with each other - I need some time with my friend too." She laughed, and you smiled. She had a pretty astounding power to cheer you up.
"So, what do you say? Drinks?"
"For sure! We didn't have anything planned for tonight anyway. Meet you at the bands old pub?"
It had become something of a haunting ground for you all - it had nostalgia after all, nights after nights spent there in university, which now, felt so long ago.
"Eight work for you?"
"See you then!"
*******************************
You laughed, as Roger spun you around, easily lifting you up, even with the added weight of your tall high heels, and his fur coat which you were sporting over a simple skirt and top.
"Rog, put me down, you idiot." You grinned, as you heard his exalted voice.
"We did good right?"
He put you down, and though his grin remained on his face, his eyes betrayed a slight bit of ... what was it? Insecurity. He needed you to confirm it, and for just a second, his arrogant façade dissolved.
"You did great! You played better than ever!" You assured - they really had, Tim, Brian and ,of course, Rog.
"I know - our first gig, Aze - it just felt so right, you know, up on that stage, and I know it's only our uni's shitty bar, but..." He was breathless with excitement, and he caught you up in the ecstasy. Roger had always had such infectious moods - but perhaps it only was you who felt it.
"Hey, it's not 'only' anything. I wouldn't care if you were playing Wembley stadium or here, Rog - you did brilliantly." You said firmly, smiling up at him.
"We did good, didn't we?"
"Smiles gonna go far, Rog - you're gonna go far. I can see it." You laughed, hugging him tightly. You looked up at him with almost adoring eyes, and saw a boy that was going places - far away from this boring city where you had lived your whole lives, to places that he had dreamed of since he had taken up the drums. Some part of you prayed that he wouldn't leave you behind when he went.
*******************************
You had a cigarette dangling from your rouge lips, as you pushed up the doors of the pub, the dim lights contrasting with the still light summers evening outside.
You were ambushed almost immediately by Mary and Freddie.
"Aza!" Mary grinned, wrapping her arms around your waist in a quick hug, and handing you a drink - a gin and tonic.
"Hey, Mare. See we're drinking classy tonight. Unlike last time." You grinned at her, sipping the drink.
She swatted you with your hand. "Just because I apparently cannot take my beer does not mean-"
"Actually, darling, you can take your beer, you just can't take eleven pints of it." Freddie pointed out, and you laughed, feeling immediately better than what you had a few hours ago.
"Hey, Fred." You smiled, as Mary mock glared at you both for your teasing.
"Hello, darling." You were in love with Freddie's accent. Yours wasn't bad, of course, the same as Rogers, but his was downright elegant. Mary thought so too, you knew, as she had giggled about it on several occasions to you.
You navigated yourselves through the crowd of people - you were guessing a band was playing tonight from the growing amount of people- and seating yourselves at a table. It was so loud you could barely think, but perhaps, you mused, that was a good thing.
"Heard from Roger?" Freddie asked, never one to walk on eggshells.
"No, I imagine that he is sulking at Brian's or Toni's."
Mary shrugged. "This night is supposed to be about forgetting the argument- so let's not talk about Roger." She said, sensibly, and motioning the waiter over, ordering more drinks. You'd barely finished your current one.
"A toast." She grinned. "To a night that is purely Roger-less."
"Yeah, I'll toast to that one." You laughed, almost bitterly.
You didn't notice Freddie's decidedly shifty look as she said that. If you had, you would have known that that was his 'I-have-definitely-meddled-in-things-that-are-not-my-business.' look.
*******************************
Two hours later, you were sat at the bar, nursing yet another drink, alone, when a man who didn't look that much older than you say down on the stool next to you.
He was cute, with short auburn curls, and wide, green eyes with long eyelashes, and a pretty much perfect jawline - though that could have just been the drink messing with your mind.
"What's a pretty girl like you sitting alone for?"
You - at least sober you, would have cringed at that, and probably rolled your eyes. Tipsy you, however, just laughed a little.
"Well, I came with my friends, but they are annoyingly cute and romantic." You pointed over to Freddie and Mary, who were cuddled up close, probably whispering sweet nothings to each other.
"Couples annoy you?" He grinned, sipping his beer.
"Not usually... I just don't like third wheeling. I'd usually have my best friend. But he isn't here. And so I'm here. At the bar." Why you needed to clarify your location was beyond you, as you were pretty sure he knew exactly where you were, seeing as you were sat right next to him.
"Seeing as you're lonely, the least I could do is keep you company." He said, motioning to the bar tender.
"Wanna drink?" He questioned you.
You were about to say no, thanks - when you heard the doors open. That wasn't, in itself a particularly odd occurrence , but it was the voices. A group of voices you knew all too well.
You didn't need to look over to see Roger, Brian and John, but you did. And perhaps, you would have let the argument go, gone over to speak. Maybe. If Rogers arm hadn't been slung around Toni, said girl wearing almost the exact shade of lipstick as you, which you could very clearly see several places on Rogers neck. You felt a little wave of sadness - and stubbornness. He knew you'd be here tonight - you were sure of that , you were sure Freddie had told him in an attempt to resolve the little feud. But tipsy you was just as, if not more, stubborn than usual. He knew you'd hate if he brought Toni. And yet, he still did.
And so, acting like you'd never seen them at all, you spun back around in your seat, and smiled at the man you'd yet to get the name of.
"You know what? That'd be great. I'm Azalea, by the way."
"Marcus."
*******
The next hour, you sat with Marcus, chatting casually, not drunk, not really, but tipsy enough that you felt pretty comfortable telling him about your life, and he about yours. You had caught the group looking at you several times, checking that you were okay, and you'd chatted with Brian and John for a few minutes when they'd come to get drinks, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Mary had told them all to leave you be - she had been harping on for the last few days about how you needed to 'mingle more' after Alec, and from the not so subtle grins she kept sending you, you were finally doing what she had been saying.
You were startled out of your thoughts, by Marcus placing his hand on your thigh.
"Azalea, did you not hear what I said?" His voice was slurring slightly. "Move your hand, please." You said, trying not to make a scene. You were uncomfortable, and it showed on your face.
He ignored you. "I said, why dont we go back to my place."
Seriously? This entire time he was talking to you he just wanted to get into your pants? How typical.
"Aza? You okay?" Thank God for Deacy, and his remarkable ability to read expressions.
"She's fine,man." Marcus said, rolling his eyes. He still hadn't moved his hand, and you were feeling more and more uneasy and awkward by the second. You didn't want to make a scene, and so you bit your lip. "C'mon, Aza, sit with us." John smiled, gently, and you looked at him gratefully, moved to get up.
"Man, she's fine, just piss off." His tone made you uneasy, and his green eyes didn't look so pretty anymore. "What's going on?" Rogers voice was almost instantly protective, as he came back from the direction of the loos, and he glanced just to check you were okay. His jaw clenched when he saw Marcus' hand.
"Mate, I'd move that hand, right the hell now." He growled, and the previously uneasy atmosphere had now changed into full on tense.
"And who are you to tell me what to do?" Marcus got up, squaring up to Roger, and though you were glad he was away from you, you didn't like the way this scene was looking.
"I'm her friend." Roger snapped, looking at you.
"Yeah? I'm her new friend." Marcus laughed.
You immediately felt sober, worried, at the scene that was playing out.
"I think you should just leave." Roger, for once, was trying to avoid a fight.
"I've told you mate, don't tell me what to do." "You're making her uncomfortable, and I think you should get the hell out." Roger growled.
"If I'm making her so uncomfortable then why has she been coming on to me for the past hour, huh?" You were about to protest, when Roger butted in.
"I really doubt it." Rogers jaw was clenched.
"What? You don't want to admit your mates a slut?"
You almost growled in indignation, that word burning your ears, the word that was so casually said, that was said for no reason, that was said to rationalise others actions.
"You absolute di-" You began with a snarl, but were promptly cut off by the sound of a fist hitting a face.
More precisely Rogers fist hitting Marcus'.