Too Much Love Will Kill You

CHAPTER ONE

*HERE IT IS!! This story starts off in mid 1984, and will end around 1987ish. It's also going to take on a bit of a darker feel, since we all know how those years kind of were in terms of Freddie's health. Also, I'm not a doctor, so I don't know everything to do medical wise with anything in this book, and I will be sure to have Google handy for anything important. I also know that some of the timeline isn't going to he 100% accurate, but this is fiction (unlike BoRhap that wasn't fiction, yet they butchered the timeline 🤷🏼‍♀️), and not everything is going to be right to the day or month. I will try and keep everything to the correct years though.
So yeah, that's the jist of everything 😂 if you'd like a more detailed description, I'll happily do a ramble chapter if need be.
Thank you to everyone who's come from my first two books, and I love you all so fucking much!
I hope you enjoy! 💕💕*

*3RD PERSON POV*
"Freddie, I really think you should come in and be tested." Dr Grant said, his voice very stern and serious down the phone line. He was trying his hardest to convince the stubborn frontman that he needed to be tested for HIV, no matter how badly he wanted to hide from it. The virus had been spreading around again and more and more cases were being recorded daily. The doctor had spent majority of the week calling to try and tell one of his oldest (seeing him for a long period of time, oldest) patients that he could potentially be unwell. Freddie's past was something that rang alarm bells for the doctor. He knew that HIV was something that could lay undetected in someone's system for years if no test was done for it, and with it being spread mostly through sexual contact, he was worried that Freddie could've contracted the virus. He tried telling the singer this, but of course he was just brushed off. Freddie, unwell? What utter bullshit.

"I don't need testing lovey," Freddie muttered, resting the phone receiver between his shoulder and his ear as he continued packing his away bag. "I'm fine. This is ridiculous." He grumbled, annoyed that the man had interrupted his morning with this load of crap.

"Freddie, I know you think you're-"

"Doctor, I'm sorry, but I don't need to be tested like some bloody lab rat!" Freddie exclaimed, dropping the shirt he was holding to flap his arm about while he ranted. "I'm fine. Fit as a fiddle, one might say." He mumbled, using his husband's favourite saying. There was no way that Freddie was ill. He was fine! He and John were even in the gym the other day! Couldn't do that if he was ill.

"HIV is a silent but potentially deadly illness Freddie." The doctor said seriously. "And it also doesn't pick and choose. I know that you've had your...meetings, if you will, in the past, but-"

"That's none of your business." Freddie snapped quickly. How dare he try and use his past against him. Sure, before he and John got together, there was a time where he wasn't always the safest when it came to sleeping around, and yes, his "love" rule wasn't always in place, but he wasn't sick because of it. He wasn't! He couldn't be. He'd only been with two other people besides Brian, Roger and John, so there's no chance he contracted something!

"I'm sorry." The doctor apologized, not wanting to add anymore fuel to the burning fire that was his and Freddie's phone conversation at that moment. "Just please, just take the time to get tested Freddie." He sighed, feeling helpless. He cared about Freddie. He'd known the man for most of his career, and it was hard for him to think that something could be wrong with his friend.

"I, I'll-"

"Everything going okay in here?" John asked, suddenly popping his head into the bedroom from the hall, frowning a little as he noticed his love's stressed appearance.

"Yes darling, everything's fine." Freddie lied, quickly plastering a smile on his face to hide any hint of what was really going on. He couldn't give away anything to John. He'd already been tested and was fine. The bassist had made appointments for them both, saying that it was important they knew that they were fine, rather than just saying they were. John got his blood taken, Freddie, well he lied and said he went to the appointment. He couldn't do it. He didn't want to know. Part of him knew deep down he was scared. He could brush it off all he liked, but he knew it had to be done eventually.