Losing My Way (A Brian May fanfiction)

Heartbreaker

I was a fool.

I'd been too dense not to see what might as well have been hidden behind a gossamer curtain. The past and present situations became clarified to me then- all of the pieces falling perfectly in line.

"You're in love with me." I said. I had meant to phrase it as a question, but my mouth had been one step ahead of my brain. It wasn't a question at all, and I knew that. What Diana responded with was a face that showed just how much pain and relief was washing over her all at once. I could tell by the cascade of tears, and the worry lines that drew her eyebrows up toward her hairline, that for her this was a bittersweet moment of both cathartic release, and terrifying, unavoidable change.

I thought of our kiss, and how it had felt to be close to her in an intimate way. I thought of the smoothness of her skin, the softness of her touch, and the gentle pressure of her lips. I thought of how it felt to hold her at night, how it felt to dance with her. I had thought about these things before in the privacy of my mind- but now that she had admitted the fact that she was in love with me, I was afraid that if I lingered too long in that same private bubble, the thoughts would become written on my face.

"I'm sorry." Diana leaned over so that her head hung between her propped-up knees. "I'm the idiot. I'm the bastard. I always seem to love people who'll never love me back."

The cheater, her mother, and now me. I was to be another person that would break her heart. I couldn't deny the confused feelings I had for her- but I also couldn't imagine a world without Brian. I loved Brian. I exhaled a long breath. Her shoulders slumped over her curled up frame.

Time passed. We were quiet.

I rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. She dug through her purse, using her lighter as a makeshift torch to search for any forgotten cigarettes at the bottom. I picked at my cuticles. She wrung her hands together. I massaged my temples. She retied the laces on her boots. I stared at a blinking street lamp. She picked threads from the rip in her jeans. I started to cry. She did too.

"After that kiss, I don't know if I can take this anymore... Is there ever a chance?" She was struggling to speak. "Is there ever a chance you could be with someone like me?"

Her question all but crushed me under it's weight. I tested multiple answers in my mind, but none of them felt right. Nothing felt right anymore, really. After all, I was in a darkened alley way- drunk and high- not a shred of righteousness in my brain, and in the process of having one of the most important relationships of my life altered beyond repair.

"I'd try my best to make you happy. It wouldn't be easy." She said between sniffles. "We'd never be able to walk down the street without people saying rude shit to us. Your parents would never accept it. I doubt you'd make any friends at St. Mary's-"

"And I'm with Brian." I pointed out as if it had slipped her mind.

It didn't.

"And you love Brian." She threw a hand up as if to say I was getting to that. She straightened up, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "So that's that."

More silence.

The only sounds that filtered through my stampede of thoughts were that of the awkward shuffling of our bodies, the patter of rain on the awning above us, and the occasional passing of a car one street over. I wondered what words the group of teenagers had said that day on our shopping trip to make her drop my hand. She started to rifle through her bag again.

A hiss of approval tore from her lips as she finally located one lost and nearly broken cigarette from the depths of her purse. She drew it out of her bag as if it were the answer to all of her troubles. In seconds, she straightened it out and lit it up, blowing a column of grey into the alley before us. I figured that line of smoke was a visible mark of the possible division between us. I could either hop over, or stick to my own side. I didn't want to do either thing.