Show me the stars that live in your eyes (A Maycury Story)

Chapter 3: Bump on The Road

There's something, in the way Tim looks at Freddie with the side of his eye, still talking to Roger and Brian, something that makes Freddie feel uneasy. They're laughing, Brian's laughing, and he looks lovely, like he always does, but in contrary of all the times he does, Freddie doesn't feel warm, he's not sure what to do, if he really should walk up to them or if he shouldn't, they're having fun, he would probably ruin it.

In the middle of his studies, of his new painting, he got dressed, decided to come see Smile, almost leaving coloured brushes to become unusable because of the remaining paint on them, before he realised he doesn't have money to buy new ones. He took a while to find something good to put on, something that maybe Brian would like, as if he looks at Freddie like he's anything else than a groupie. He put on makeup, frowning at every little mistake, cursing himself when seeing how late it already was. He'd been minutes away from missing the beggining of the gig.

He put his work to the side to come see Brian play, because he'd asked him, because Freddie felt like Brian wanted him there, watching him from the audience. He'd watched Brian smiling at him, seeing him arrive near the stage. Freddie's heart beat out of his chest, happy to see Brian happy at him being there. He feels foolish now, looking at the three men talking, talking exactly like others had, others that Freddie heard whispering 'Shut up, Bucky's coming'. Others that Freddie heard talking about him, laughing at him when his back was facing them, when they thought he was far enough to not hear them, hear all the jokes that were never funny.

He ignores the horrible feeling in his gut and walks to them. He's gotten through harder things than this in his life. He can handle that, handle a bit of disappointment, of embarrassment. He notices how they stop laughing when he's near enough, how Tim kicks Rogers shin. He hates it, he hates every second of it. He feels so humiliated, and he doesn't even have an idea of what they were saying. He just knows, deep in his heart, that they were talking about him, and that it wasn't something he, himself, would be laughing at.

"Hello, darlings!" Freddie exclaims, his head high, chin up, confident, or at least looking confident. "What were you laughing about?" He asks, doing his best to act casual, like he doesn't know they were laughing at him.

Brian sends him a small smile. He almost looks apologetic, and Freddie knows his answer.

"Oh, nothing really important," Roger answers, taking a drag out of his cigarette. He looks red in the face, but it could be from the lighting as far as he knows.

Freddie takes a look at them one by one. He's being quick, but it feels like he's taking hours, especially when he looks at Brian, when he feels his heart bursting, but not in a good way. He never wants to feel it again. He'd promised himself he would never let something like that happen again.

"You guys were great tonight," he croaks out, ignoring the way a lump forms in his throat. They all murmur a thanks, and after sending a final smile, Freddie turns away, and walks away, fighting back all the emotions that want to explode out of him. He's angry, at himself, for being always so hopeful, at people, for being so unfair with him, for always putting him to the side. And he's sad, he's incredibly sad, as much as he doesn't want to be, he can't help the tears prickling in his eyes; he's tired, of the never ending cycle of friendships that don't last for long, that always end when people decide they don't need him.

He hates never belonging.

He never liked violence, even though he boxed as a child. He'd been good, at throwing the hardest punches, at letting out all his anger, at making all the frustrations get out of him through this sport, the only sport he ever really liked as a child. He'd always regretted it afterwards, he regretted hurting someone, making them go through the pain he'd been through and knew was horrible. He'd always wanted to go and apologise to his adversary, but didn't when he thought of what the person would say, when he thought that they probably hated him. He's never taken being hated well.