Queen Imagines 🌟

Freddie: "I can't...I can't lose you."

Your P.O.V.

Tears cloud my vision as I take shallow breaths careful not to make any noise and wake the sleeping boys in the living room. Clearly another wild party took place while I was asleep last night, having taken medication to help my cold I have been fighting for what feels like weeks. The medicine had knocked me out cold before Freddie and the gang had even returned from the studio. Clearly they had no regard for my slumber, but luckily I hadn't woken up until now.

I walk into the living room, noticeably wincing at the scene before me. Freddie is sprawled on the couch, mouth slightly open in a deep, drunken slumber. He will not be happy when he wakes and I will be forced to comfort him through his self-inflicted state. Isn't that just wonderful? I shake my head as I spy Roger asleep on the other couch. The others must've caught rides home after setting off a nuclear bomb in my living room, how kind.

Reaching down, I pull a blanket off the floor to gently drape over Freddie's sleeping figure. As annoyed as I am, he was shirtless and it is winter time around these parts. I tuck the blanket closely around his body and gently pet his hair. My darling, why must you be so destructive? I know that he will help me once his hangover wears off, but I long for intimacy and to wake up some mornings like a normal human being next to the love of my life in a house that, you know, isn't trashed.

I shake my head as I step carefully past the sleeping divas to get some tea brewing. I know for a fact they need to be in the studio in just a few short hours, and as daunting of a task as waking them up will be, tea can make anything better. Earl grey, I think to myself confidently knowing it's Freddie's favorite. I am so wrapped up in getting to the stove I hardly hear the definitive crunch beneath my slipper. Until I do.

I look down and my heart immediately shatters. The kitchen is in a state of despair and I am no stranger to broken dishes after these late night benders, but this is different. In tiny gold engraving I count four, then five, then six shattered pieces upon which is the fragmented gold engraving of our names. Anniversary gifts from our parents. We had eaten off of these plates on our wedding night, which feels like an eternity ago. On the side of the room I sit in is the engraving of his name and the opposite side, mine. In the same house, but World's apart. Funny how life's natural disasters seem to be creating these painful little metaphors for my relationship.

Slowly it hits me. I feel myself lose footing as my head goes fuzzy. Perhaps it's the left over medicine, but I think in reality it must be the pure feeling of being overwhelmed. I slide down against the counter careful to avoid the broken pieces as my body is racked with sobs. I stay quiet, careful not to wake them. Terrified of the notion of facing hungover Freddie in a situation that is impacting me so severely. This is, after all, the fourth day in a row I have woken up to mass chaos, but this time is hitting me differently.

From the corner of my eye, I see white powder scattered on the floor. I almost laugh quietly to myself not out of amusement, but rather resigned disappointment. Cocaine. The destruction was reaching an apex I couldn't bear to observe anymore. I feel my chest tightening as an anxiety attack threatens to make itself known. Remember what Freddie said, breathe as slow and deeply as I can. Oh yes, very good then, remember what your drug-doing-dish-destroying Freddie dearest says!!! AGH.

Slowly I gather the will to stand up off the floor, haphazardly grabbing a notepad from the top drawer of the kitchen cabinet. Barely noticing some rogue lyrics scrawled upon it in Freddie's handwriting:

Another party's over

And I'm left cold sober

My baby left me