Bohemian Rhapsody; Ben Hardy! Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

42

"But, Peter, you might be right. I'm not even hurt by the fact that he's let me go as a friend. But you can only be there so much for a person," Paul Prenter was being interviewed on television. After all the shit that he had pulled, he somehow still made him seem like the victim. 

"And so, Mr.  Prenter, all these stories about Freddie Mercury and his lovers... that there were so many," said his interviewer. 

Freddie hardly couldn't believe his ears. 

"Yeah?"

"Is it really true?"

"Yes, it is," Paul lied, "His lovers were countless, genuinely coutnless. Uh... All these wild, drug-fueled parties, where he'd find another lover every night and a routine he couldn't get out of."

Freddie's eyes were glued to the screen. Not a single thought behind his eyes. Of all the rumours that had been spread about him, this one was the least of his worries. But to think that this was someone he once trusted over his bloody best friend of years, or his other friends... unbelievable. 

"So, you really did see behind the mask?"

"I knew Freddie when he did Bohemian Rhapsody. And the Freddie we have now... he doesn't have the same passion about music. Badly influenced by Y/n Taylor, I suppose. The only logical explanation."

What would Freddie do? He didn't know, but the only thing he could think about right now was his band mates. He walked over to his phone and dialed the number he'd think could help him. 

"Hello?" said the man on the other side of the line. When he didn't get any answer, he once more said, "Hello?"

"Miami?" Freddie simply asked, no other words. 

"Freddie? How are you?"

"There was this Africa concert... that wants Queen to play... is that still..."

A sigh left Miami's lips, "You mean Live Aid? I guess Y/n told you about it? They've announced all the bands, Freddie. It's too late." 

Freddie was silent for a moment before he spoke up again, "I need... I need to reconnect with the mothership." In the background the bad interview of Paul was still playing.

"Freddie, Y/n's the only one that wants anything to do with you. The rest is still very upset. She's tried to persuade them multiple times, but to no avail."

"Maybe... if you ask them... they would meet me," Freddie's voice was trembling, "Tell them I want to talk. Just talk." The only sound that was between them was the interview of Paul Prenter. "We're family. You know, family have fights...all the time."

"I can call," Miami said, finally. 

"Thank you, Jim."

Freddie stared at his television where Paul Prenter was stillspreading lies. 

"As his friend, who probably knows Freddie Mercury better than anybody else, how would you describe him inside as a person?" the interviewer asked. 

"For me, Freddie will always be, this frightened little Pakkie boy, who's afraid to be alone."

"I hope he sees this and realizes what he has lost in you."

"I hope he does, too."

"A close and important friend."

-

Freddie tapped his fingers nervously on the armchair he was sat in and scratched his head. It was silent in Miami's office, the band had not yet arrived. He glanced over to Miami, "Where are they?"