Freddie Mercury one-shots

From his dark place (Deacury)

3rd person's POV:

He sat at the bar, for the countless time of the month. He asked the barman a drink. The man drank his alcohol, thinking about how lonely he was. Because, that's all he could think about these days. He was lonely.

He looked at all the dancing beautiful people, having fun. All of them having a partner to love. All of them probably feeling full. Full of love. But, who would be there to make him feel like that?

He drank the rest of his drink, planning on leaving. He couldn't handle it. The memories of this bar we're too much. The pain was unbearable.

He was just an ordinary man. Well, he thought of himself like that. He wasn't ordinary at all, but he couldn't see it himself. He hated himself, all because of him.

Before he could get up and leave, he heard the voice of someone talking to him.

"Hey! Can I buy you a drink?"

The man talking was pretty handsome. He had long light brown hair. His smile was adorable, a little gap between his two front teeth.

"Uh, I don't know. I-I was leaving." Freddie stuttered.

"Are you sure?" He insisted.

"O-okay then, just a beer."

Freddie sat again on the chair. The other man sat beside him as they waited for their drinks.

"So, what's your name?"

"Me? Uh well, it's Freddie. Freddie Bulsara. You?" He said shyly.

"John Deacon." The man smiled.

"Tell me a bit about you!" Freddie said.

"I'm 24 years old. I play the bass. I'm a big big fan of music. I like disco a lot." He said cutely.

While John was talking, Freddie kept thinking. Thinking that, no matter how hard he would try, he couldn't have John. The younger man would leave as quickly as possible when he would see the real him.

"Freddie?" The younger man said.

"Oh y-yes, sorry."

"By the way, Freddie, I think you're very handsome." John said smiling.

The older man blushed, not used to be complimented.

"Thank you. You are too John."

"Thank you! It's your turn to tell me about you!" John said.

"There's nothing interesting about me, really."

"I'm sure it's not true. What are your hobbies. Where do you come from? Did you study in something? Anything really!"

"I'm 29 years old. I play piano. I studied in art. I really enjoy Opera and Rock. I love to paint and draw. I actually don't come from here. I come from Zanzibar, in Tanzania. The music is like my buoy, it's what makes me live." The dark haired man said.

"Why does it make you live? What if you didn't have the music? How would you be?" The younger said, a bit concerned by the last sentence of the other man.

The pianist looked at the other, not knowing what to say. He couldn't just say it, like that, to a man that he only just met. He shook his head, his eyes glued on the floor.

"I-I've got to go." He said before walking quickly to the exit.

The bassist followed him, seeing that there was something wrong. He took the wrist of the other, stopping him from leaving. Freddie turned around to look at John. His eyes were shining, but not from happiness. Tears made his vision blurry.