A/N
Hello lovies, back again with another chapter. I really hope you all enjoy this! Remember to leave your thoughts and feedback -- I love seeing what you guys are saying.
Hope you're all staying safe and healthy. Love you all.
Carys x
*TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of self-harm*
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~ what's life without a little risk? ~
"Oh my God, you answered. Please don't scare me like that," I said, clenching the phone in my hand.
"I wasn't dead," Molly laughed on the other end.
"I don't care if you're dead, I care about the phone bill and how much it'll cost Reid," I smirked.
"You're such a bitch."
"Isn't that the truth," I smiled.
"It is, which is why I said it in the first place."
I gasped, a faux offended noise coming from my throat. "My friend..." I broke with a giggle. "Fuck, you have no idea how much I've missed talking to you."
"I've missed you too, chick. There's been nothing going on over here—I'm bored," Molly whimpered down the phone, which made me chuckle weakly into the broken silence over the line. "So... Aren't you going to tell me what's going on?"
"What do you mean?" I lifted my head up and rested the side of my body against the wall, watching across the room in amusement as Roger busied himself with making lunch with his clumsy drummer hands.
"What do you mean what do I mean?" Molly laughed. "You've been at a farm with your ex-boyfriend for like a week and you have nothing juicy to tell me?"
"It's not like that, Mol', it's actually been very difficult at times. The first few days were hard, but I think it's getting better—well," I cut myself off, huffing out and running a hand through my hair. "I thought it was getting better, but I had to leave the room before we really had it out the other day."
"Maria," Molly sighed.
"I know, I know... I know I promised that I wouldn't let things get on top of me, but it's just so hard sometimes."
I knew I sounded defeated. If it were anybody else on the other end of the phone, I would have hidden the defeat and put on an act. But this was the only chance I really had whilst at the farm to relax with my emotions and be fully open.
Not that I didn't trust any of the boys. Freddie and I were spiritually inseparable, but I also knew he was much more sensible than I was in times of crises; I knew he would either conspire with Roger and Deacy, or he would tell Brian about my worries. I wasn't at that point yet. I was still trying to repress those lingering thoughts at the back of my head. Thoughts I just wasn't ready to admit I had.
But I could tell Molly. Because she didn't know the boys well enough. She didn't talk to them. I didn't need to put on that act for her.
"So, what actually happened that made you leave the room? It's not like you to back down from a confrontation," Molly chuckled down the phone, her tinny tone comforting me through living in an unfamiliar environment.
I chuckled, turning my body so I had my back rested upon the wall. "He's acting like he never did what he did..." I rolled my eyes.
"Seriously? What a prick..."
"Yeah, but can I really judge him that much? I did shag his best friend—we were drunk, but I still did it. I can't judge him..."
"Exactly, you were drunk... He went around and—"
"Okay, please, Mols, I really don't want to talk about it right now." I sighed, shutting my eyes briefly. "I didn't even want to bring it up, but he acts like he didn't even do it. It's like he doesn't even remember it..." My tone twisted into a bitter and slightly vicious one. "Anyway, let's stop talking about me, how are you?"
"Oh, I'm fine, girlie, same old. I didn't call to talk about me, tell me what's been happening over there! Apart from the B-R-I-A-N situation. You're literally living with Queen whilst they record their album! You have to give me at least a teeny-weeny bit of insight..." I could hear her pouting at the other end of the phone.
"Nope," I popped the 'p', grinning. "You know I'm not allowed to disclose anything. I could get in trouble for that."
"And since when do you worry about getting into trouble, Maria Brennan?"
"This is different, my freckled friend. This doesn't just affect me. If I told you anything about what was happening here, music-wise, there's a chance it may get out there..." I paused, giving a pointed look with my eyes in the direction of the phone. There was a silence from the other end. "Molly?"
"I'm here, I'm here... Just thinking about how right you are about it getting out. I can't keep my mouth shut."
"Yep! So, you'll just have to find things out with the rest of the world, freckles."
"What's with the freckles?" She asked through a laugh.
"I don't know, I just miss your face," I laughed back.
That short moment of laughter we shared made me somewhat melancholy. I missed my small, but cosy, flat, and my crazy, but rational, best friend.
"On a real note..." Molly started, her voice lowering. "...Are you okay?"
I looked around the hallway I was stood in for any sign of anybody else around. I knew Roger was in the kitchen, but I couldn't see anybody else. I swallowed and took a deep breath. "I'm trying..." I admitted.
"Maria... You told me you'd call me if you felt off."
"I know, I know... I promise you I tried."
"What do you mean you tried?"
"I'm trying, trying... Present tense." I furrowed my eyebrows, chewing harshly on my bottom lip.
"Maria..."
I whined a little, mentally kicking myself for slipping up. "I uh..." I lowered my voice to a mumble. "I slipped up again."
I felt the anxiety ball up in my stomach and I swear to you I could feel it travelling up my body as though I was about to throw it all up.
"...Cutting?"
"No."
I heard Molly sigh. I hated disappointing her.
"I knew you shouldn't have gone with those cigarettes, Maria. Cutting is bad, but do you thinking burning yourself is going to make it any better?"
I cringed at the scolding. "No, I know..." I ran my hand over my face and kept it there. "Every night while I'm trying to go to sleep, I just feel it bubbling up. When I don't do it, I just have a panic attack until I tire myself out enough. Then, the reflection in the mirror... I can't even say it, I hate it. I feel sick just thinking about how big I really am."
"You're not big." The three words I heard too many times in my twenty-five years of living.
"You're not in my mind. Genuinely, though, I think I need to lose more weight on my waist, there's—"
"Stop. Stop it... Maria, you promised me you'd try and find a therapist."
"I have tried. I've tried so hard... Nobody wants to hear it. I can't afford it. The government won't fund it, so I just have to deal with the fucked-up thoughts day in, day out." It was true. Anybody who knows anything about Britain in the 1970s knows that mental health care was next to non-existent. "Being here hasn't helped, either. There's too much that can go wrong, I feel bad for letting my anxiety about the 'B' situation get the best of me all the time. I don't mean for my mind to be there all the time, it just... is."
"Okay, it's okay..." Molly said in a calming tone. "Little steps, yeah? Let's try and sort this anxiety out a bit... What you need to do, whether or not you're ready, or want to, is talk to Brian. Properly. Just be civil with him and let him know it would be better for both of you if you reduced any awkward moments."
"Why are you a therapist?"
"Those years I put into getting my psychology master's degree are not going wasted." She chuckled. "Listen... I have to get going. Promise me you'll try and talk to him."
"I promise," I sighed with a nod. "Love you."
"Love you too. Take care of yourself, lovely. Bye."
"Bye." And just like that, my therapy session was over.
As if on cue, as I hung the phone back into the cradle on the wall, that tall beanpole of a man strode around the corner, an empty mug that was stained with remnants of coffee in his grip. His sudden appearance pulled a gasp from me.
"Jesus, you scared me..." I put my hand on my chest, glancing up at him. He barely looked back whilst he mumbled a half-hearted apology and continued to the kitchen. I bit my lip in thought, bringing my hand up to play with the chain I wore around my neck, before spinning around.
"Wait, Brian!" I called out, hoping it wouldn't be in vain.
He stopped in his tracks and turned slightly in my direction, humming in response.
"Can... Can we talk? For a second? I won't go on for long, I just think we need to talk." I was nervous. Nervous for what, I don't know. But I was nervous, nonetheless.
Brian just stared at me for a second, as if he was trying to see into my soul, to detect any hint of deception. I don't think he needed to look that deep. Because deep within himself, he still knew me more than most people.
We stood in the hallway, somewhat close to each other due to the narrowness of the house's interior.
"I don't want to talk about anything specific, because I just... don't have the energy in me right now. But... I was just thinking, it might be beneficial to both of us if... If we just, you know..." I expressed with my hands, before shrugging. "I don't want to keep walking on eggshells."
"Walking on eggshells?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah..." I shrugged, looking off to the side. "Listen, we clearly haven't talked about certain things, and I don't want to talk about those things. But I also don't want to keep walking around this place, knowing that we both know that but not knowing where we are with it." I gritted my teeth and cringed a little at my messy attempt of an explanation.
I peered up at Brian, only to be met with a face holding back an amused smile, eyebrows slightly raised as he had his arms folded. The empty mug hung off his index and middle finger by the handle, gently swinging.
"Don't laugh at me, Brian, I'm trying to be serious." I gave him a pointed look. I thought I heard him snicker as I looked to the floor with a heavy exhale. I still don't know if he laughed or not. Even now, as I write this, he won't tell me if I ask him.
"I just don't want things to be awkward anymore. For all of our sakes. I don't think it helps with the negative atmosphere—we have enough of that with the Irish devil walking around."
That one, however, pulled a genuine laugh from Brian's mouth. I toned back a grin that threatened to shine through my face, having not heard Brian's genuine laugh in so long. It wasn't until I heard it again that I realised how much I missed hearing it.
"You can hate me all you want," I continued, putting a hand on my hip. "But it's best if we just stay civil. And as much as I don't really like you right now, that doesn't mean I want to sabotage your work."
Brian looked down, seemingly thinking over what I'd said before he nodded his head, his eyes finding mine again. "I think that's best." We got stuck in the eye contact, neither of us knowing how to finish the conversation.
"So, yeah, that's all I wanted to say," I smiled small, holding my hand out in Brian's direction. "Truce?"
He rolled his eyes, seemingly amused once again. "Yeah," he chuckled, meeting my hand with his. We shook on it, and I tried to ignore how his touch made me feel. Not in the way that made me want to rip his clothes off – no, not like that. I felt vulnerable, warm, safe... Feelings I hadn't felt for a while. I shook it off as a result of not having had much human interaction lately and pulled back from the shake as soon as we made our truce.
I gave the guitarist one last friendly smile, before I headed in the direction of where I knew Freddie would be.
Freddie, whilst at Rockfield, developed a love for meditation. Not in the way you'd think, though; he enjoyed his alone time sat on a wall around the edges of the property. There wasn't much surrounding the farm other than a couple of dirt roads and hills – countryside bliss. It reminded me more of Yorkshire the longer we stayed there, and whilst that would usually cause me discomfort, it had a somewhat soothing effect on me by the second week. Freddie enjoyed the tranquillity of his alone time. It was one of the places he deemed best to brainstorm creatively.
"Room for one more?" I softly called to him once I spotted him facing the picturesque scene ahead. He looked back, his front teeth poking out of his lips when he saw me stood there, before shuffling to the side to let me hop up and sit next to him.
We sat together in silence, enjoying the rareness of it for a moment.
"What do you think of Prenter?" Freddie broke the silence, his gaze still focused on the view. I looked at him and raised my eyebrows a bit, not expecting him to speak.
"Paul?" I asked, watching the small smile tug at the corner of his mouth. I chewed my lower lip, averting my eyes downwards. I hummed and shrugged my shoulders. "I work with him," I simply said. It was true; I didn't know Paul Prenter beyond work at that point, so my inability to work with the man didn't matter – at least not to Freddie's question.
"Yes, but, what do you think of him?" Freddie repeated.
"Why are you asking?" I asked him through a growing smile. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I looked over my friend's features for any hint of intention.
"He's rather an interesting character, don't you think?" Freddie finally looked at me, swinging his legs and clasping his hands together.
"That's one way of putting it..." I almost mumbled but made sure to bite my tongue to prevent me from saying anything further. "Honestly, I don't know him. He irritates the shit out of me when we work together, but I don't know him."
Freddie nodded slowly, looking back ahead of him. "He came to see me, in the piano room. When I was running through Love of My Life. He sat and watched me in the corner—I did ask him if he needed me for anything, but he didn't. He just wanted to listen to me sing and observe me. Which, darling, I have no problem with being watched," he added with a cheeky smile, poking the tip of his tongue through his teeth. I chuckled warmly.
"We kissed before he left."
My eyes widened. "You and Paul?" I semi-whispered in shock. Freddie nodded.
My mouth hung very slightly open as I looked at the view in front of us once again. I let the fact hang in the air. The first time out of many that Freddie Mercury and Paul Prenter would share any act of intimacy.
Truth be told, everybody had come to a silent understanding that the engagement between Freddie and Mary – the one that had been in place since autumn of 1973 – was more or less kaput. Freddie needed to explore life. Enjoy himself. Mary needed to settle down. Have a family. I never did find out if they had that conversation because I simply never brought it up with Freddie. Not once did I ask for verbal confirmation of his relationship with Mary Austin, not even when I saw him for the very last time. But that was much, much later in life – I'm getting ahead of myself.
"Sitting here all day won't write hits, darling, let's get in that studio," Freddie smacked his legs before swinging them over the wall and jumping off. I spun around as well, being met with Freddie holding his hand out to help me down. He smirked and bowed in an exaggerated manner, the way only Freddie could do, as I took his hand and hopped down from the wall.
"What hits have you got lined up for us, Mr Mercury?" I asked him, hooking my arm through his as we walked towards the studio.
"Well, Miss Brennan, I'm not supposed to reveal such sacred secrets," he looked down at me. "But for you, I could make the exception."
"How kind of you," I rolled my eyes playfully and laughed. "Tell me, Fred." I nudged him a bit.
"Well, I came up with a few little diddies, but can't seem to finish them off. So, I've made a death wish, darling, and I decided to stick them together. All in my head, of course, but I know when we record it, it'll be... outrageous."
"You're joining three songs together to make one?" I raised my eyebrow. "That is a death wish, Freddie," I shook my head. "But I expect nothing less from the great Freddie Mercury."
"It'll be a rhapsody for our time, lovie." By this point, we'd made it to the studio, and he let me go in first, where the rest of the boys had gathered and were setting up to record. Freddie came in behind me, tapping me on the shoulder.
"Besides... What's life without a little risk?"