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

Chapter 9: Newly Found Star

Freddie's been excited all day, impatient for what is going on tonight: his first gig with Smile, with Brian playing just beside him. They've found a bassist rather quickly. His name is Mike, he's a nice chap with no patience whatsoever, but he's a good enough bass player and that's all they really needed. The gig had been booked up rapidly, the four of them too happy to be a complete band to wait any longer to play together. The rehearsals had gone well enough, at least Freddie was satisfied—especially by the way Brian looked at him when he pranced around singing, when he rested his head on Brian's shoulder, imitating the gesture of playing the guitar. Freddie loved the way Brian kissed him afterwards, hidden safely in the bathroom. They haven't talked about what they are to each other, if "friends" is still something that describes them. Freddie desperately wants to ask for more, but he doesn't because maybe Brian isn't ready. He can wait until Brian asks him. If he ever does.

It's not that he's not excited anymore about singing in front of a crowd, but his nerves are starting to take over. He's sung in front of people before—not just his parents and sister—he had a band many years before, but he was still a kid, still careless of people looking at him, of the vision the world has. This is different; Brian is going to be looking at him. If he messes up, maybe they'll rethink their decision to have him as their singer. He can imagine his dream, slowly coming true, falling apart. He isn't sure if he wants his dream to come true. What will his dream be then? And what if the band doesn't take off? What if he isn't enough? What if there's a fight that ruins everything, something that makes them fall apart, that makes Brian and him fall apart? What will he do then? What will he tell his parents? That they were right, that he should have listened, that he should have guessed it would never work, that he should have settled for that job in the government that his father had proposed to him?

He can't shake away the anxiety, the stress that makes his fingers tremble. He's been hiding in a bathroom stall for way too long, feeling too sick to even stand; he hasn't been able to keep his meal down. That small voice in his head mocks him: he's too weak for fame. If someone finds him here, he'll never face them again. It's embarrassing—he holds in his breath each time he hears the door opening or the tap turned on, letting out water—it's just a small gig, with a hundred people at most, but he can't handle that. Sighing, he rubs at his temples; he's starting to get a headache, like he needs that on top of everything. What can he do? Tell the boys to cancel the gig, to forget the fact he ever told them he could sing? What would Brian think of him? He can already imagine the face he makes—strangely, it looks exactly like the face his father does when he's disappointed, when he's trying to make him understand how much of a failure he is. He can't take the pressure, the pressure of having to be as perfect as everyone expects of him.

He looks down at himself, at his high heeled boots that he regrets putting on—he won't be able to stand up on his shaky legs—he looks at the white flared trousers, the camisole and the light jacket with flowers he decided to wear. Maybe he should have chosen something different, that stands out less. It's as if he's already trying to ruin this even though all he wants is for this to work. Thank god he didn't put on eyeliner this time, it would be rubbed all over his face already.

He considers running away for a moment, before deciding it's a bad idea, that he can't leave without telling Brian, that he wouldn't be able to come back if he chose to leave now. Someone would see him anyway—or hear him, his boots aren't very discreet, his outfit isn't either. He could tell them he's sick—which wouldn't exactly be a lie—but then the gig would only be reported and he'd go through this all over again. There's no way out, he just has to face this, like a man, as if he ever acts like a real man.

"Freddie?"

It seems like Brian always finds him in the worst moments.

He almost decides to not answer, but he's not a child, Brian already knows he's there.