March 15th 1986
5:02am
Moonlight filtered through a gap in your curtains and rested over your eyes, calling you out of your slumber a lot earlier than you would have liked. As you rubbed your eyes and pulled your soft sheets snug around your bare chest, you heard the gentle strumming of a guitar, the quiet chords slowly lifting you further from your tired haze until waking you completely. You had been a neighbour to Queen's guitarist Brian May for a year or so now and you were quite used to hearing him playing in the ungodly hours of the morning, in fact, at this point, listening to him had become a soothing option to pass the time whenever you were finding it hard to sleep.
You had only started connecting with him not long ago, though. Sure, you would see him quite often and he would make a point of saying hello whenever he bumped into you, often waving to you over the low fence that separated your gardens when you happened to be outside at the same time. Fairly recently, however, you had decided to find the courage to hold a proper conversation with him - yes he was Brian bloody May and the thought of even looking at him terrified you at the time but you also knew that he would appreciate being treated as the normal person he saw himself as, especially in his own home environment.
May 21st 1986
12:30pm
You took that step a couple of months ago, catching him by chance when you were both sat in your neighbouring gardens - he was enjoying playing 'Martha, My Dear' on an old acoustic guitar in the sun and you...well you were only really out because you had seen him. You had watched him for a few minutes while you tried to come up with a conversation starter but each time you started to think, you would become mesmerized by a different aspect of Brian. You were lost in the way his hair bounced as he nodded his head to the rhythm he was playing, the way his shirt was open about three quarters of the way and revealed his sun-kissed chest almost entirely, the sleeves messily tucked in on themselves half way up his arms, the way sunbeams illuminated the varnish on the neck of the guitar, making it look like every perfect note he played glowed visually as well as audibly. And his hands. God, you were drawn so deeply to them. You watched as he held a barre chord while his pinky and ring finger danced expertly underneath it to play the melody, the tendons in his forearms tensing and releasing as his middle finger reached to play the bass notes,
"I think that sounds right, don't you?" You were startled when you looked up at Brian's face to see him staring right back at you with a playful grin on his lips, God knows how long he'd been watching you for.
"Yeah, it - it sounds wonderful." Your voice grew quieter and more guilt-stricken with each word - regardless of how long he had watched you for, he had most definitely seen you gazing at him.
"I didn't mean to interrupt your sunbathing, It's just not often I get a chance to play in the sun, what with working on a new album and everything." His smile was infectiously warm yet you found your eyes wandering over his hands again, watching as he lifted his arm to run his fingers through his hair, making sure to be careful that none of his rings got caught in his curls,
"Yeah, I know," you forced each word out as clearly as you could while you practically drooled over the image of his hands, "I hear you play in the night sometimes - well - the morning, I suppose."
Brian blushed at this, "Oh shit, I'm sorry." he giggled, "I hope I haven't woken you with it?"
Although he most certainly had woken you up with his playing countless times, you could see his blush deepening to a soft scarlet and it made you smile, "No, don't worry. Besides, I can hardly file a noisy neighbour complaint when I've chosen to live next to Brian May, can I?" You relaxed a bit more as Brian chuckled, your conversation lasting a while longer until the sun was smothered over by clouds, urging you both to retreat back to your houses.
