It had only been a month since the incident with Timothy when John had come home from school to find his father sitting at the kitchen table, Queen records in his hand.
"John, do you know who Queen is?"
"Yeah..."
"Do you know who their lead singer is?"
John blinked. "No." Of course he bloody did. Everybody knew who Freddie Mercury was. His death had been all over the newspapers lately. When John found out, he cried in his room for an hour and a half.
"A very bad man. I don't want these records in my house." With that, his father threw them in the trash. John almost protested; he had spent three months' worth of allowance on those, but he knew better than to argue.
That night, John hummed "Breakthru" by Queen.
"What are you singing, darling?" His mother asked as she cut up carrots for dinner in the kitchen.
John paused, "A song by Queen."
"Oh, they're pretty good. Sad to hear about their lead singer though. AIDS, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Because he was gay.
"Well, sing louder. You know I adore your voice," his mother smiled softly.
John shook his head, but he was grinning. "If I could only reach you, if I could make you smile. If I could only reach you, that would really be a breathru."
Soon enough, John was twirling his mother around the kitchen as he sang. They laughed and laughed and laughed.
He wondered if that happiness was what Freddie Mercury felt like when he had performed.