Time Passages (Queen or Freddie Mercury Fanfic)

32. Good Question

Julia

I was alone in the car, so I didn't bother to cover my mouth when I let out a nice, wide yawn.  I was sitting at the stoplight about five minutes away from the house, worn out and relieved that the day was almost over. 

All I wanted to do was go to bed; the past few days had been a real drain on my stamina. Alas, tonight Stuart was taking Danny and myself to the fiftieth anniversary showing of Star Wars: A New Hope (which honestly wasn't accurate, since the movie came out in May of 1977 and not December, but Star Wars films have a way of coming out during the Christmas season, and George Lucas wasn't much for continuity in the first place, so it didn't matter).  Aside of Empire Strikes Back, it was the only Star Wars film I honestly liked for itself. The other later films were only as good as their numerous YouTube edits. And I had seen Episode IV a million times, admittedly, but it would be a treat for Danny if nobody else, as he, unbeknownst to Stuart, was the only one who had never seen it in the theater.

Quietly I thumped my hands against the steering wheel to the beat of the music, mouthing the chorus of the so-bad-it's-good Vanilla Ice track we all love to hate, "Ice Ice Baby."  Call me a traitor, but I needed it.  The song had everything I wanted at the moment: energy, pep, and a means to laugh at Freddie's expense.

"Vanilla Ice did it better than you guys," I declared aloud childishly. "I'm going to have to show you that song, see how you like them apples."

Of course, I didn't mean it.  "Under Pressure" held a very dear place in my heart, and despite the fact that my parents actually went to high school with Vanilla Ice for a spell (till he dropped out, that is), I harbored no connection to such a notorious plagiarist.   All the same, once more, I was not happy with Freddie.

Then again, to be fair, I was happy with neither of the men in my life at present.  But where my dear Stuart was concerned, that was normal.  For every time Stuart and I engaged in our Wednesday ritual, I always felt so cheap afterward.  Even after he would draw me back upright and kiss my numb lips, breathing hard and murmuring how masterfully I "did that," my soul stayed heavy for the rest of the day.  And that morning, I wound up twice as blue.

For I couldn't stop thinking about Freddie.

Although he and I were at worst estranged lovers, and at best old friends, more than ever I felt I was betraying him somehow. Freddie's added presence hadn't made our "tradition" any easier. In fact, I came very close to utterly collapsing into tears after Stuart climaxed. It was a ridiculous notion, of course, especially since Freddie had indubitably closed the thin book that was our story, and stashed it away on the shelf in between the much thicker volumes concerning David and Mary, where it gathered dust, yellowed, and eventually rotted away- just another of Freddie's forgotten faces, one of many untold stories. 

Still, you could have at least texted me back, dude, I said silently. I know you know how.  All I wanted was to hear your voice, I needed it so much today- and really I would have been happy with a polite "no, thanks" if you were too busy, just some sort of confirmation that you saw what I sent, that you cared enough to read it- but you completely ignored me. I know we are nothing and I'm about as exciting as a dry bologna sandwich to you, and that's fine- but did you really have to blow me off like that?

Then again, Freddie had gone out of his way at first to try and arrange for the lesson to happen a little later.  Perhaps he wasn't so much ignoring me out of disregard, as he was out of anger that I had chosen time with Stuart over him.  The nerve of me.  And not me specifically, but anyone who dared to place him anywhere other than the number one spot.

Surely he had had a much better time at the radio station than he would have while pretending to learn how to drive, so it all worked out for the best, I decided.