Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

42. Griff the Groupie

F.M
Munich, Germany
November, 1984

"Hayes Agnes Griffith, are you asleep?"

Hayes didn't reply, because he was indeed conked out on a tattered leather couch in the production room of Musicland Studios. He had touched down in Munich a few hours ago, with bleary eyes and a weary smile that told me he was going to try and be nice. Hayes had decided to fly through the night in the hopes that he'd sleep on the flight, which never ended up happening of course. So here he was shattered, and here I was not letting him sleep.

"Hayes." I poked his jaw.

A five o'clock shadow dotted the space, and I quite enjoyed a more scruffy Hayes. His hair was still a little damp which caused a few locks to curl above his brow. After he settled himself in my apartment, Hayes insisted on freshening up and told me he would make his own way to the studio. It took him two hours to join me in the studios, and after fifteen minutes Hayes had bloody passed out.

"Freddie." He grumbled before cupping his hands over his face.

I may have been a little nervous about Hayes being here in Munich, so I forced myself to act excessively upbeat and chirpy in order to compensate. Munich was where everything went wrong, and I couldn't tell if that's all Hayes would now associate the city with. We were on goodish terms now, yes, but the situation between us was still a blurred line. Already today, he laid his suitcase in the spare room of my flat. Spare room, not my room. Was he trying not to be presumptuous? Hayes can fucking presume away because of course I want him in my bed.

"Is my musical process boring you?"

"How has your mind jumped to that conclusion?"

"Because you fell asleep."

Hayes lips reluctantly curved with amusement, "I apologise." He used the heel of his hand to rub at the corner of his eye.

"Just don't let it happen again." I poked at him once again, and he lazily swiped at my hand. "The boys are gone for lunch, you can't expect me to entertain myself."

"Oh no, how long have you been left unattended?" Hayes stood up slowly before he brushed his hands down along his dark jeans. "You've probably already laid down a track of grunts."

"No, don't worry." I threw him an innocent smile, "After Hot Space, I realised how much you loved the 'grunting', so I knew that you wouldn't want to miss it."

Before Hayes could even think about retorting, I had reached over to touch his elbow, "Right, you haven't eaten, let's get something."

Hayes cut me a look that suggested I was being overbearing, which I certainly was but I didn't let it stop me from taking him by the arm and leading him off to the canteen. I asked him several times did he want to go somewhere proper, and he waved me off. In the end, Hayes settled for a rather plain looking sandwich, and a pint sized bottle of some German pilsner. He had a notebook propped open in front of him that he scratched about in between small bites of his lunch.

"We'll go somewhere a little nicer for dinner."

"Stop fretting so much." Hayes murmured, throwing me another small look over his fallen glasses, "What's with all buzzing about?"