Good Company - Queen Fanfiction

Chapter 12

March 27th, 1979

My head is pounding as I am woken up by the incessant, now pointless, buzzing of my alarm clock. I push it off my bedside table and it clatters to the ground. It still doesn't turn off, so I have to reach out to grab it and properly turn off the alarm. As I lean out of my bed my head starts to throb even more.

"Fucking hell," I curse under my breath. I grab the damn clock and turn it off. I get back in my bed and try to continue sleeping. Although I try, my searing headache and dry mouth prevent me from any more rest. I decide to get out of bed, as carefully and slowly as possible, to get the biggest glass I can and grab a packet of paracetamol.

When I return to my bedroom from my escapade to the kitchen, feeling horribly nauseous, I look at the other side of my bed, expecting to see Marc underneath the sheets. He's not there and for a second I am unsure why. That second seems to last far longer than any other second I've experienced. I shuffle through yesterday's memories beginning when we got in the cab to come back home and go backwards. Freddie winking at me, dancing and drinking, meeting Joe, getting ready with the girls, walking around Kensington, yelling. At Marc.

"What have I done?" I mutter to myself. Another wave of pain shoots through my head and a gasp escapes my lips, "Christ. What have I done to deserve this?" Alcohol, idiot, I think to myself.

I get back into my bed only to notice that my curtains are open a crack and the sun is shining directly through it into my eyes. I turn around and face the other wall, scowling at the inanimate surface. I should be fast asleep right now or at least dead tired because I should have dropped Marc off at the airport in the middle of the night and said goodbye to him. I did neither of those things and am paying the price with a god awful headache and incomparable guilt.

The more I think about it, the more annoyed I am with myself. The headache dissipates, but my remorse sticks around for the whole day. I'm not sorry for being annoyed at him because he was being a real jackass, but I shouldn't have just left him on his own. Especially without telling him I was fine and didn't get hurt. The most selfish thing I could have done was run out with Carrie and Heather and spend the night forgetting about him with other people. Which is exactly what I did, like a selfish bitch. I want to call him and apologise, but he's probably only just gotten home and it's most likely he doesn't want to hear my pathetic excuses. It also makes my phone bill skyrocket and I no longer have an income to pay for that.

When I think about it, my life has turned upside down within a day. It's awful and worst of all, my own fault. I remember having crises like this when I was in my teens because random boys didn't like me back. If only my troubles were that simple now. I can't help but laugh at my situation. Sitting around feeling miserable and sorry for myself. I could be searching through the classifieds for a job in the meantime. I'm not.

The rest of the day goes like this and I torture myself by thinking about what I could be doing and what I could have done to stop from getting in this position. When I go to sleep it takes me a long time. The unforgiving churning in my stomach keeping me awake. But, somehow, I manage to fall into an uneasy sleep.

March 28th - April 3rd, 1979

I don't see Carrie or Heather or anyone else for the rest of the week. I put all of my focus and effort into trying to find a job. There is a waitressing job at a little cafe a few blocks away, so I wouldn't need to use my car. Honestly, it sounds horribly boring, but it's better than no job at all. I am yet to apply as I am desperately waiting for something else to come up, but it doesn't seem like it's going to happen. I keep telling myself that some money is better than nothing at all.

When I am not filling my time being annoyed about the lack of job opportunities, I think about Marc and I. I think less about what I did just before he left and more about what led to all of this... crap. For the first year and a half, we'd been perfect. All we cared about was each other and it was easy. As time passed we became more busy and we were living apart, it was harder to be quite as besotted with each other. We managed for a few months and since then it's all gone down hill. And fast. Our careers, well his anyway, started becoming a centre point of life. Marc's job became more than important to him, it almost is him. Most blokes just want to forget about their jobs as soon as they leave the place after each day, but if he didn't have to I'm not confident whether he would come home.

The thing I find hardest is to realise and understand that the special kind of magic we had has faded. When we were younger we were naive, I was at least. I really believed this would be the guy I spend the rest of my life with, I still almost do. Even now. I often would lie in bed, dreaming of a family made by Marc and I. Now look at me. I lie in bed, dreaming for Marc and I to be simply okay, or worse, to be not together at all. We just don't fit together like we used to and I realise it more as each day passes.

I remember I am yet to finish the mural before that building goes down at the end of the month. I head out there on the 31st with a collapsible step ladder to finish off Brian's head and the tidying up of edges. When I finish later in the afternoon I get the camera out of my bag and take a few photos. Maybe I'll print one out for each of the boys, I think to myself.

On the third I go out to the cafe to finally apply. On the way I see John and his wife, Veronica, about town. I almost pretend I don't see them, I didn't feel like explaining my situation to anyone. However, Deaky calls my name and pretending not to notice isn't an option.

"Hey, Alex! How are you?"

"Oh hi there, John. I'm fine, thanks," I say, mustering the warmest smile I can.

"This is my wife, Veronica. I don't believe you two have met. Honey this is Alex, the girl the guys and I met after that last show in Paris," he says, gesturing at me. I put my hand out and she shakes it.

"It's nice to meet you. John mentioned that you were invited to the catch-up lunch the band had," she says, smiling genuinely.

"Yeah, it was very lovely of you guys to think of inviting Carrie and I," I say, taking my opportunity to thank John for letting me go.

"It was no problem, you're a nice girl. It was mostly Freddie's doing anyway. So what brings you to town on a Wednesday morning? Don't you have work?" he says. Freddie's doing, I think, interesting.

"Uh... well. It's a bit of a long story, but I got laid off," I mumble, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh no, that's terrible," Veronica says.

"What happened?" Deaky asks.

"I work for one of the smaller local newspapers and the council recently reduced the budget. My boss couldn't afford to keep all of the staff on without lowering wages significantly, so an unlucky few were weeded out," I explain, frowning at my feet, "I've been looking for a job for a week now and the cafe just up here is hiring."

"Well if you get the job, we'll be sure to make it our regular," John smiles, "We'd better be going now, Alex, but it's nice to see you."

"Good luck with getting the job," Veronica calls as we walk away from each other.

"Thanks. It's nice to meet you," I reply.

Veronica seems like a really lovely woman, I'm glad Deaky has someone like her. A nice guy deserves a nice girl.

Marc's a nice guy, so what am I?