Good Company

Chapter 4

A/N: in the flash back, the normal text will be italic, thoughts are in a normal font and the things Brian says in his head is italic again. Bit confusing perhaps. Just read it, it'll be fine. Hope you enjoy!
Oh btw, if you have a history with suicidal thoughts and might be triggered by reading suicidal stuff, don't read the chapter as from the flashback. It won't be crucial to the story, except for the fact that Brian is depressed and has mild suicidal thoughts, so you won't miss out on anything important. 

~December 1973~ 

Freddie had been exited all week. Why, one might ask. The answer is quite simple: Christmas. The date, to be precise, was December the 12th. Freddie had written at least a dozen letters to Santa, whereas John had only written one. The difference between the boys was very clearly visible in their first letters: 

Dear Santa,
I have been very good this year, so I would like to ask you for a bigger gift. My daddy was unhappy last week. He put us to bed so we would not know, but I saw him. He was crying on the bathroom floor. I don't want my daddy to be unhappy. I don't need any gifts this year, I only want daddy to be happy all the time, please. 
Love, John 

Dear Santa,
Since John didn't ask anything for himself, I'd like to get his share of gifts as well. I have been the best me ever this year so I deserve it. Also, please give John a puppy for Christmas, he loves puppies. I'd have a cat, but daddy doesn't like cats very much. So remember, I get John's cut as well. 
Freddie 

You know, the usual. Freddie wrote more letters, requesting more things he'd thought of, and John just hoped that Santa would grant him his wish. 

~December 7, 1973, flashback~ 

Brian wasn't feeling well. In fact, he hadn't been feeling well for a while. It wasn't exactly an illness, but he felt like he was watching the world through a filter that numbed his senses. Playing with John and Freddie didn't bring him the same happiness it once did. Even helping out at the local animal rescue centre didn't give him a feeling of fulfillment. 

He was walking home after a long day of teaching high schoolers mathematics, and he nearly forgot to pick up the children from school. He made a 180 degrees turn on the sidewalk and started jogging in order to be on time. 

'Shit... What time is it?' Brian stopped at the nearest shop window and cursed. 16:30. School was over at 16:00. He ran faster, and as he took the last turn he saw Freddie and John stitting on the sidewalk. 

'John! Freddie! I'm here!' He tried to catch his breath, but it was forced out as John put his arms around Brian's waist and hugged him. 

'Daddy! I missed you!' John exclaimed. Freddie joined in too, for he couldn't stand seeing people hug and not being a part of it. 

Brian pulled back and they walked home. Thoughts terrorized him, unabling him to think straight. You should have kept a close eye on the time. You forgot your kids. Only people who don't love their kids forget about them. You don't love them. You never have. You never will. How could anyone love children that aren't theirs? Brian tried to talk back, he really did. The voices were stronger, smarter, more powerful than him. They overpowered him, blew every single one of his arguments away. He - 

'Daddy, stop!' Brian was hauled out of his train of thoughts when John yelled. They were at a crossing, and he'd almost continued walking. A large truck passed, a truck he would have been run over by if John had not kept an eye out for him. Sweet, adorable John. Loveable John. And Freddie, who could sometimes be stubborn, but that was only because his love was so much more intense than other people's. Could be, but you don't love them. They don't love you. You are not their real father, nor are you their real mother. They want to know who their real parents are. They'll leave you to be with the parents they never had. The parents they deserve. You could never be a good father. How could you ever be? You, Brian Harold May, a 26 year old maths teacher who has barely begun to understand what it's like to live? You are nothing but a disappointment. Annoying. Worthless. 

That's how Brian ended up sitting on his bathroom floor. Right after sending John and Freddie off to bed and reading a bedtime story to them (Little Red Riding Hood, Freddie loves it), he wanted to take a shower. As he put his hair up in a bun to avoid a mop of hair nobody could ever untangle, the voices came back. He was looking in the mirror, leaning on the sink and realising his awful state, when he heard the first one, he'd called him Brizilla, for it was by far the worst one, spoke. 

Look at you. Hair all messy, bags under your eyes. You can't even take care of yourself, let alone two young children. Why bother? They're going to leave anyway. You can finish their hell right here right now. It'll be fine, they'll go back to the orphanage, to their friends. It's not like you made a huge impact on their lives. They'll be just fine. No. They love me. I won't - I can't. Stop. You know I'm right. You feel it. Do it quick, they won't even notice. Go away! Stop! I don't want to hear it! Freddie loves me. John loves me. I love them. I LOVE THEM! GO AWAY! 

Brian sunk to his knees and cried until he fell asleep a few hours later. Freddie found him laying on the bathroom floor in the morning, sleeping peacefully next to the towel rack. 

~end flashback~