Freddie Mercury one-shots

Knock Knock, Get The Door, Its Depression (Frian)

Freddie's POV:

So sad, her eyes, as it began.

I looked around, only wanting to make a mess out of this room. I wanted to throw everything around, to break every object that was breakable. I needed to break something, to get that pain out. But instead, I made a mess out of my head. I screamed and cried in a deep part of my brain, but none of these really came out. Nothing really happened.

I just listened to every words that came out of his mouth. And they weren't bad. They were true. And he just cared about me. They all cared about me, but I just couldn't help but take it badly in my head. Like every word was a weapon against me. Like he was talking to hurt me.

"You're not doing anything anymore, Fred."

I was sitting on the living room's couch. I kept staring at the open tv. There was no sound, just images of people. I didn't know what was the tv show. I just looked at it. I preferred to do that instead of facing him. I never liked watching tv anyway. Not anymore. I didn't like doing anything anymore.

"There's something going on in your head that's not right."

I wanted to yell at Brian to shut up. But it was like he was my mom, I didn't want to see him look at me with those eyes. The kind of eyes he wears when he hates me. The kind of eyes everyone seems to look at me with. Maybe I'm just crazy. I just can't see them in an other way.

"It's not okay. It needs to stop. Look at you, Freddie, you're not yourself anymore."

I continued staring at that stupid tv show. Everything was fucking stupid at this moment. Everything seemed horribly boring and stupid. Why wasn't anyone like before? Why was I feeling like this? It was like some sort of shadow was staying over my eyes, making everything look like a threat or a reason for me to cry.

I always cried these last weeks. For the stupidest things, or for absolutely nothing. I started crying when one of my records stopped working. Some other times, I felt this lump in my throat and I wanted badly to cry, but nothing came out. It was just hurting me, and I couldn't get anything out. Nothing but slightly blurry eyes. Nothing more. Someone told me I was just finding reasons to feel sad. That person was really dumb.

"You need to talk about it eventually."

I got up from where I was sitting without looking at him. I heard him sigh loudly. I climbed every stair with tons of effort. I walked all the way to my room and shut the door behind me. I put a vinyl on my turning table. The first song came, too happy. I skipped it. The second one, too fast. I skipped it. The next one, too everything. I skipped. And an other song started and I left it playing. It was slow, sad, perfect for my mood.

I heard my roommates laughing downstairs. Everything seemed too fucking happy around me! I wanted everyone to be in the same mood as me. I wanted silence, I wanted sounds around me, I wanted darkness in my room, I wanted it to be light, I wanted to be left alone, I wanted someone to be with me. I didn't really know what I really wanted.

I let myself fall on my mattress. My whole useless body sunk in it slowly. I closed my eyes before opening them again for no exact reason. I just kept trying to find a pleasurable position. Everything felt wrong, every object seemed too much. I felt too much in this room, in this house, in this city, in this life.

Every time I breathed in, I tried breathing deeper, getting more and more air. Trying to make the permanent tightness in my chest go away, but it didn't work. This was just an endless feeling. An endless process that I couldn't get out of. I wanted to be happy like I used to be.

"Fred?!" My name was called.

I sighed before answering.

"Yes?" I said as loud as I could.