Blinded by the Light: the Series

Blinded by the Light Part Two: Light at the End of the Tunnel

'It's been five days and we haven't heard anything from them. Not a letter, not a visit, not even a phone call.'

Freddie was standing at the window of the living room, head leaning against the windowsill, absent-mindedly watching the ceaseless downfall of water rhythmically clattering against the windows. It had been raining all day without even a single break, and in combination with the untransparent clouds of fog that clung between the houses, trees, and everything in between, it gave the otherwise lively and colourful street on the other side of the window a gloomy atmosphere one would only expect to find in a cliché Liverpool suburb that had been taken straight out of a B-movie. Unfortunately, the London quarter they lived in seemed to look like that at the moment, which sure added up to the emptiness and loneliness Freddie had been feeling since the moment he had woken up that morning, only to find that nobody had phoned or sent a letter.

'Brian promised to call the day after,' Freddie mumbled, a slender finger following a droplet of water that made its tortuous way down the fogged up glass. The touch of desperation that filled his boyfriend's voice was all John needed to hear to know that the lack of contact between Brian and Roger and them was starting to get on his nerves – and Freddie wasn't the only one who worried about it. John had lost count, but Freddie could very well have been right when he said that it had been five days since the last time they had been in touch with Brian and Roger, and John sure remembered that Brian had promised to phone them the day after, just to let them know how they were doing.

It didn't surprise John for a moment that their friend hadn't phoned or contacted them in any other way, though. He could still see the blank expression on Brian's face when Roger and he had left their house that evening; he could still hear Freddie desperately requesting to stay in touch, a request spoken to someone who was too far away in his own problems to even listen to it, let alone remember it and execute the order. And though Freddie had remained hopeful, deep down inside he too must have known that telephoning their friends about their currently awful conditions wasn't exactly Brian's favourite hobby. John sensed that Freddie knew he could expect Brian to actually call them, but this didn't mean that his partner wasn't worried about them; worried something happened to Roger, or Brian, or the both of them while they were all alone in their hose, locked away from the world, refusing contact or help from what Brian considered to be 'outsiders'.

John, not able to stand the sight of Freddie standing there at the window to gaze outside without actually looking at anything, faced down at the two cups of tea he had just poured, but he didn't dare to hope that Freddie's favourite jasmine tea would cheer him up. He gave it a weak shot, though, feeling just as naïve as Freddie could be at times – like right now, with him finally understanding that Brian and Roger weren't actually going to call them – when he handed him the cup.

'Here, have a cup of tea,' John said in an attempt to get his partner's mind off the matter, even though he already knew that it wasn't going to work. Once Freddie was thinking – worrying, that was – about something, in particular something concerning his loved ones, he would not stop thinking about it before he had pondered about every possible scenario and solution, and preferably after having tried each one of the latter out, whenever possible. Trying to distract him only resulted in Freddie clinging onto the subject of thought even more.

Freddie accepted the cup John held in front of him with about as much enthusiasm as someone who had won an amount of exactly one pound in the national lottery. 'This isn't right, John. Brian promised me to call the day after,' he repeated, aimlessly taking a sip of his still burning hot tea. He didn't seem to mind the heat; he was too caught up in worry to even notice the feeling of hot water burning his lips. The look upon Freddie's face was outright apathetic and empty, but after having dated him for years, John knew that Freddie would always try and keep his expression as blank as possible while thinking about subjects that actually touched him deeply, not wanting anyone to know what he was thinking about, even though the subject of thought was pretty clear to John.