𝐆𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎/𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

𝟔 𝐇𝐞𝐫

A/N 

Some more insight. More Brian. 

We are building up, I promise. 

Love you all, my loves <3

Carys x

Brian

My eyelids tacky and vision blurred, I brought my fingers up to rub at the tired organs. I narrowed my eyes, regaining a sense of direction and consciousness as I woke up steadily. There was minimal light lining the dated cabinet in my temporary room, creeping through the gaps in the thin curtains.

Ears ceased ringing, now being able to take in the clacking of the alarm clock, sat neatly at the side of my bed on the sturdy oak nightstand. With a grunt, I managed to hoist myself over onto my side and steady myself on my forearm, stretching my free arm over to silence the clock, leaving nothing but utter silence in the air.

9am. The first day of a whole month of trying to churn out what one CEO of one label wanted us to churn out, and a whole month of trying to tame Freddie ever so slightly so we didn't end up releasing a record that broke us rather than supported our livelihoods. It kind of sucked the fun out of doing what you love. That being said, I knew I had some good material written and arranged—I even convinced Deacy to try some techniques out with me, followed by Freddie, and eventually by Roger, who agreed to listen to my ideas under the promise that I'd listen to his... His new masterpiece, which he had been banging on about for weeks now, became a joke to the rest of us rather than a serious proposal for a new album.

I would have felt much better, being at that farm, had there been real life animals walking about the place. Instead, I was lucky enough to be herded into a smaller, crooked house with six other people. Six other totally different people that it almost sent my brain into overdrive just thinking about it.

My head dropped back onto the pillow under me when my stirring mind started to list through and recall the people I were living with currently. It just made everything so much worse, having somebody I hadn't seen in two years there, and nothing I could do to make it go away. I didn't want to be malicious about it, but some people just know which buttons to push – even if they didn't know they were pushing them.

However, the last thing I needed was added stress that sapped me of the essential motivation I needed to have for the following month, so with a groan and a lingering stretch of my long body, I shoved myself up and onto my feet. Begrudgingly, I grabbed a towel and some clean clothes from my temporary wardrobe and dragged myself to the shared bathroom down the hallway.

Pleased that the bathroom was vacant, I slipped inside and locked the door behind me. All I wanted to do was get in that shower and start this nightmare of a recording period fresh. The only thing that could do that for me was to feel the hotness of the water trickle down my body.

It should have been a simple venture: have a shower and carry on with my day. Should have been.

However, if you know anything about a man in his late 20s, it's that we cannot step anywhere undressed without developing some kind of unprecedented arousal in the process. Yes, I wank in the shower. Sue me. Had this particular incident not been something to note, I wouldn't be speaking about it as I am now. But it jarred me, mentally and physically, as I was relieving myself, as I tried my hardest to picture nobody but the woman I left back in London.

I tried to picture her golden hair, and that innocent blue in her eyes. Tried to hear that soothing roll of her voice and the way she'd tell me how well I played at my guitars. And I tried so desperately to picture the way her cheekbones showed whenever she'd smile at something I said. But very quickly that gold became dark, and those innocent blue eyes muddied with an alluring brown. The smoothness of her voice sharped to a familiar accent and that face...