Save Me

Part XIV

What was there to do now? Should he let him go? Should he say something? Or should he stand there until Freddie wanted to pull back? All this time worrying, worrying about what he'd say and how he'd react only to get Freddie holding onto him for dear life, as if the two of them were dangling off a cliff and he was his only thing to cling on to. An overwhelming surge of protection was burning inside his stomach; all he wanted was to keep him safe for just a few seconds, just a few seconds of not thinking about the past or the future or even right now. Just so that Freddie could feel safe after months of being frightened and scared to just be himself. He just wanted to exist outside of time where nothing could possibly bother them, where both of them could just feel like nothing that had happened before could ever happen again.

They finally loosened each others' grips and pulled away, Freddie not daring to look him back in the eye. The rain continued to slam down from the sky above, John eventually looking away from Freddie and staring down at the choppy pavement beneath him. He wanted to say more, so much more than what could possibly be conveyed. But where to even start? Did Freddie even want to hear anything else from him? When he finally looked back up at Freddie, there was a quick flash in his mind that controlled his movements in which he walked forward and wrapped his arm around Freddie's trembling body, leading him down the street and back towards the apartment.

Neither spoke, nor did John want to speak at the moment. For the first time in what felt like ages, he didn't care about his surroundings; the people around him didn't seem to care either, for they all had their own devices to tend to, just like he had to. His focus was solely on Freddie, just as it always had been, but, just like before, he had no idea what on earth he should do. If only he could read Freddie's mind so he would know what to do or say. At least then he could calm him down or at least distract him from whatever it was that was going on within his mind at the moment.

A warm blast of air hit them as soon as they entered the building, John shaking the water off his free hand as the two walked up the stairs to their apartment. John bit the inside of his lip, desperately hoping that Roger wouldn't be home still or would at the very least be passed out inside of his bedroom. He turned once more to Freddie, who stopped walking as soon as they got to the top of the steps. John looked over at him, wishing for some change in his expression or for him to utter a single word once more, yet he got nothing but him refusing to budge from his spot and a tighter grip around his rain soaked arms.

John wouldn't force him to do anything; Freddie had dealt with enough of that over the past few months. Instead, he just stepped back, took out his box of cigarettes and lighter, and leaned back against the wall, his attention zooming in on the end of his cigarette as its orange glow took hold. In his peripherals sat Freddie, who still wouldn't move and sat there, staring at the mottled brown carpet beneath them as the wet spot around him slowly made its way through the ground. The smoke filled the air as the ash-ridden scent surrounded his face, John letting out a long sigh that released a massive smoke cloud into the room. 

"Pass me one, will ya?" Freddie finally said, John not even recognizing the request for a moment. It wasn't until he passed Freddie the cigarette that the thought struck his mind: Freddie never smoked, at least not as much as he or Roger did. He hesitated for a moment when Freddie held it out, scouring his own pockets for a lighter. John just sighed, taking his own out of his mouth and lighting the edge of Freddie's, the glow passing onto his as Freddie murmured a small thanks.

He took a deep breath, took out his lighter, and crushed the end of the cigarette into the bottom of it where the grey scar deepened even further. Freddie fiddled with his cigarette, trying to find a comfortable way to hold it as he took multiple quick and jagged drags of it, the smoke flying into the air at rapid speed. It was like watching a scared teenager try to drive for the first time; he had just the vaguest idea of how to use one of these seemingly simple things from seeing others do so, but when left to his own devices, he knew barely anything about them. Yet, unlike driving, John really had no idea how to help him in this situation besides finally deciding to open his mouth.