𝙜𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙥𝙞𝙚 ; bohemian rhapsody

chapter 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖⁱᵉ

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎤 ‧₊˚

[ meet the band ]

📍𝙻𝙾𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙽, 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟶

𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐡𝐤 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐜𝐨-𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫.

Although, he wished to only be known as Freddie. He stopped his movements as his hands grasped onto a white and red pinstripe suitcase that was covered in stickers from across the world. Freddie admired it for a moment before the obnoxious voice of another worker wrenched him out of his daze, "Oi! You missed one, P*ki!"

"I'm not from Pakistan!" Freddie rebuked as he continued passing the luggage that had fallen onto the ground due to his daydreaming. 

Freddie sighed as he waited for his bus to arrive, before glancing down at his paper, writing down another mixture of words that had formed in his wondrous brain. The bus soon rolled to a stop, allowing him to enter before swiftly towards the stop near his house. He hopped off, making his way inside, and spent the remainder of the afternoon in his room. Jer, his mother, looked over when he entered the living room in the early evening, "Dinner is ready."

"I'm not hungry, mum," he said with a smile. 

"Hmm, where are you going?"

"Out with friends."

"A girl?" his mother questioned with a smirk. 

"Oh, mum," he sighed as she patted down his shoulders. "I'm merely visiting my darling Y/N."

"Oh, how I love that girl." She paused, smiling up at her son. "Look at you. Give your mother a kiss."

He did so when she finished tucking on his denim jacket, walking off towards to the door, "I'm going to be late."

"You're always late."

"Hi, papa," Kashmira, Freddie's younger sister, greeted. He had just stepped through the door as Freddie stopped, staring at him. "How was work?"

"Out again, Farrokh?" Bomi asked. 

"It's Freddie now, papa," he reminded.

"Freddie or Farrokh...what difference does it make when you're out every night, no thought of the future in your head? Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. That's what you should aspire to."

"Yes," Freddie nodded. "And how's that worked out for you?"