Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

13. Belladonic Hayes

A/N- the header image is the only good thing about this chapter ngl😌

F.M

"Servants quarters?" I echoed.

Hayes led me through to an area which wasn't as freshly polished as the rest of the house. Cobwebs fluttered in the corridor that must have once been filled with bustling life in decades past.

"Staff quarters," Hayes corrected me with a tut, "Haven't had anyone living here in forty years, obviously."

Obviously.

"And why am I being brought here?"

Hayes ignored me as he tried one of the frayed white door that littered the narrow hallway. "Bloody hell." He complained when it appeared to be locked. "Stand back a bit."

"Why?"

Hayes didn't reply yet again, instead he gripped the handle tight and whammed his shoulder full force into the door. It gave away almost immediately as he broke the lock. He is a lot bloody stronger than he looks, but I simply must inspect him further to be sure.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

"There are much cleverer questions you could ask Freddie," Hayes sighed as if I were stupid, "Yet you never do." Clearly his high had worked off slightly, or else irritation had set in.

I followed him into the small room. The space overflowed with boxes, upon boxes of what were most likely files. Hayes shrugged off his jacket and threw it over a bare single bed that was stripped to its uncomfortable looking metal skeleton,

"Why exactly are we here?"

"Another stupid question considering you followed me and I already told you I was having a drink." He rubbed at his nose.

"You're so bloody hostile."

Hayes tapped his fingers along a few boxes before he found the one he was looking for. "Am I now?"

"Yes."

"Then what are you doing here with me?" He hummed as he lifted a box down.

His shoulders flexed beneath the tight material of his shirt. I almost said 'enjoying the view' as Hayes bent down to prop open one of the lids but I didn't think that would be wise.

"I was worried about you." I replied instead, because that was the safer option.

Hayes plucked out a bottle of amber liquid, "Your concern is noted Freddie." He said dismissively as he inspected the label.

He is so fucking impossible.

"You're already very... intoxicated." I stepped closer toward him. His fingers were tapping against the glass restlessly.

"It's my party." He haughtily rose his sharp chin.

"Exactly, the golden rule is that you can't be the drunkest one at your own party. It's in very poor taste darling."

"All these rules," Hayes sighed and took a swig straight from the bottle, "they are getting very stifling."

Interesting.

"What rules?"

"All of them." Hayes waved his hand dismissively as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "We're all just in a cage here England." He took another gulp, wincing slightly. "Irish Oak, terrifyingly strong."

"A cage?"

"Well you aren't, that's why I didn't like you for a long time." Hayes toyed with his bottom lip, his knee bouncing at a mile a minute.