𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎/𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

𝟑 𝐆𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞

A/N

 Hello, babies! Terribly sorry about the two month wait. I've finished with uni for the year, so expect more updates! 

I hope you enjoy the final filler chapter before we dive into the real stuff, if you know what I mean! 

Lots of love, hope you're all staying safe and looking after each other! 

Carys x

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Freddie

It was a dull and dreary place, to be quite frank with you, lovies.

To say that Herefordshire would precede its reputation was an overstatement, regardless of how its permanent residents may have seen it. It just wasn't for me, being locked away with the purpose of generating content for a new album – the idea of being isolated just for that... it didn't come freely, or naturally to me. It was like being with Trident all over again.

"Honestly, it's like being in prison," I mumbled, falling back onto a wicker armchair and lifting my cigarette up to my lips to take in a heavy drag. "Unbearable..." I spoke with a throat full of smoke and tobacco, before breathing it all out.

I watched on as Roger rummaged through his drawers, grabbing piles of his clothes and aimlessly throwing them into his suitcase, groaning when it wouldn't shut, so resorting to pushing down on it. All the while, he could have pulled his finger out and actually folded said clothing and he wouldn't have had any issue with it at all.

"Really, darling, didn't your mother ever teach you how to pack a suitcase?"

Roger stopped what he was doing and looked over at me, his eyes slightly wide and his eyebrows arched in confusion. "Yeah," he answered with a shrug, before he continued with forcing his stuff into his suitcase.

I just shook my head and smirked, tapping my foot against the floor.

"Don't you have some packing to do?" Roger asked.

"No, I don't, because I packed last night." I grinned at him cheekily. He just huffed and rolled his eyes. "What's with the sour face, Rog? We are leaving!"

"Leaving just to go somewhere else, Fred, I feel like a bloody factory chicken!" He threw his hand up in the air and groaned. I just sighed at him.

"I understand it seems like that, but—"

"It feels like it," Roger corrected me with a chuckle. "I am a chicken. I have morphed into a chicken."

"Well, you don't need to tell me that, dear..." I mumbled, taking another drag out of my cigarette.

"Aren't you fucking funny..." Roger gave me the side eye, before groaning and collapsing on his bed. I rolled my eyes and got up from my place in the chair, heading past Roger, but not without sending a playful smack to his backside.

"Stop whining, Roggie, we're making an album," I called back to him before I had left the room completely.

The house we were staying in was charming – I'll give you that one at least. They had rented out a large townhouse that really felt like a mansion to us. We each had our own bedrooms, all lovely and cosy. It was nice to have a different space to think about things, but after being moved from one place to another, it still felt somewhat reductive. Until this album, I don't think we'd ever spent so much time together consecutively, and I hate to say it, but it was starting to get rather draining. I love the boys dearly, but when we all entered business modes, it was like you had to fight to get your voice heard. That wasn't too hard for me, but when you're somebody like Deacy, I should imagine it was rather daunting.