𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄.

chapter 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞.

ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖⁱᵉ

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎤 ‧₊˚

[ i've got it ]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰.

Paul spoke of Freddie's sexuality and 'inappropriate' actions, as well as how his passion for music and songwriting has hindered over the years. The line picked up, and he heard the gravelly voice of Jim, "Hello?... Hello?"

"Miami?"

"Freddie? How are you?"

"There was this Africa concert... that wants Queen to play. Is- Is that still..." Freddie softly recalled, ignoring the man's questions.

"You mean Live Aid?" Jim asked. "They've announced all the bands, Freddie. It's too late."

Freddie sighed, "I need... I need to reconnect with the mothership."

"Freddie, they don't want anything to do with you. They're still very upset."

"Maybe if- if you ask them, they would meet me. Tell them that I want to talk. Just talk," he pleaded, before taking a gulp. "We're family... You know, family have fights... all the time."

"I can call."

"Thank you... Jim."

Averting his eyes back to the television screen, he listened to the ending of the interview. "As this friend, somebody who probably knows Freddie Mercury better than anybody else, how would you describe him inside as a person?" the reporter questioned.

"For me, Freddie will always be this frightened little Paki boy... who's afraid to be alone," Paul answered.

"I hope he sees this and realizes what he has lost in you."

"I hope he does too."

"A close and important friend."

Freddie nervously drummed his fingers on the leather armrest, before moving to sleek back his hair. Jim watched him from his desk with a frown, and the singer looked over at him. "Where are they?"

"They're late," Jim said with a gentle tone, giving him a pointed stare. There was a knock on the door, and Freddie was quick to sniff away his tears as the door opened. "Hi, guys."

"Jim," Brian nodded, looking over at the singer as he took a seat on the couch, followed by Roger and Deacy.

"If anybody wants any tea, coffee, bladed weapons, just- just ask," Jim smiled. "So, who wants to go first?"

"I'll start," Freddie quickly stated, causing the others to turn their gaze to them. "I've been hideous. I know that and... I deserve your fury. I've been conceited... selfish... Well, an asshole, basically."

"Strong beginning," Roger scowled, glancing away.

"Look, I'm happy to strip off my shirt and flagellate myself before you. Or rather, I could ask you a simple question."