Trigger Warning: Suggest that you should skip this chapter if you don't like vices, depression...
John's P.O.V.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Deacon and Mr. Taylor” someone from the other line said, and the tension of sadness started filling the air.
I bowed my head, crying inside Roger's car. We pulled over the empty road, stretching over the way to Freddie's house as we are visiting him and meeting Brian there as well. We received a call from Peter Freestone, Freddie's butler— stating what I feared the most... Freddie is gone. Roger was softly sobbing, sitting on the curb nearby. I banged my head against the dashboard of the automobile, wiping my tears away. We were too late.
---
I was still broken about Freddie's death... Here I am, sitting on my recliner, pulling another cigarette from the pack. I would rarely turn to vices but now that he was gone, I couldn't care anymore. I cried all of my tears already until I'm dry. I light the cigarette and ease myself into the addicting sensation of nicotine, temporarily forgetting about the pain that numbs and stings me at the same time.
“John, I think it's time you put down those devil's sticks and maybe move on?” Veronica said, worried for me.
I gave a frown and let it down... for now.
“Alright.” I breathe out a sad sigh.
I sit down and think about the love me and Freddie used to have. The secret getaways we had, the glances we would give to each other, the soft kisses he would give that I would shy away from, the conversations we would have... Hell, may it be the bitter arguements about his health... Now that he was gone, I had given up on all hope, and thought about resigning. After all, there was no reason to go on. We might be an amazing band but without him, it was empty... Everything was.
I saw my wife leave the room and I take a cigarette and quickly light it, smoke filling the air from the cigar. I was in a state of depression and regret. I should've done something to save him, to keep him around longer. It's only been a week yet it feels as if he was gone for a hundred years already. I miss him and I should have acted, but I didn't... Dense and quiet John was too weak.
Hoping to forget my problems and grief temporarily, I walked over to my bed, partly wishing I won't wake up. I close my eyes and fall asleep before my head hits the pillow.
All the memories of him replayed in my dreams, which probably made me smile in pain while I see it before my closed eyes again. I hear myself softly sobbing, tears running through my eyes... Looks like I still have tears to cry.
“John, darling?”
This voice was all too familiar for me.
“John? Why are you crying?” I still haven't opened my eyes, but I felt warm fingers wiping away my tears and gently caressing my face.
Eyes clear from tears, I open my eyes and see Freddie's worried face.
Wait... Freddie?
“F-Freddie?” I exclaimed in shock and a little bit in delight.
I felt my eyes warming up again, I buried my face in Freddie's chest, crying some more.
“Oh dear, it looks as if you've seen someone came back from the dead.” he said, chuckling.
I scanned the room, I was in a bed, assuming that's where I slept and Freddie was also sleeping beside me, judging from the size of the bed. I stood up, red eyed, walking towards a mirror. I looked down and saw myself in night clothing I wore probably a decade ago. My face looks younger and my hair was all light brown with no hint of grey.
I was younger, and Freddie looked much more healthy and alive. Is it possible that I travelled through time?
Memories from his death is still fresh, still etched in my mind. This was the time, the opportunity for me to save him.---
Oh will you look at that...
That was partly intentional.
Anyway, ignore the word count for now; look at this dancing Deaky
Sorry about all the depressing things in this chapter. I hope I'm doing alright for this fanfic.
You could give constructive criticism at me all you want, 'tis fine as long it makes sense.Am signing out of this chapter in
3, 2, 1... Goodbye, see you in the next updateSigned,
Eren
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