Freddie Mercury one-shots

Nothing More Than Memories (Froger)

I'm writing so much these days! I just really feel like writing! If you have requests I'd be really happy to write them!

This chapter is a bit more trash (if it makes sense?) so for more sensible persons, I don't recommend it. It's inspired on the series on Netflix, The trials of Gabriel Fernandez. If you liked the chapter, I really recommend you to go watch it!

Their fight started at the club, a man trying to kiss Freddie. Roger seeing them kiss, not letting Freddie any time to pull away as he quickly ran to them, not bothering about all the other people he was pushing. They fought in the car of the way back at their flat.

"I didn't fucking want to Roger?! Why don't you listen to your fucking boyfriend instead of believing what you saw for one second and a half?" The older yelled.

And it continued in the apartment.

"I was about to push him away!"

"But you didn't!"

"You're so fucking stubborn!"

"It wouldn't even surprise me if you did it on purpose! When will you fucking learn?!" Roger yelled.

And it was like every anger left the singer's body. He couldn't help but freeze and stare at his mad lover, ready for the hits as his partner let his arms fly everywhere. He felt cold, now remembering everything. He could feel his heart beating excessively loudly.

"When will you learn?"

"It's all your fault. You do this to yourself."

"What did I tell you last time? There are consequences for everything."

"You fell off your bike, Farrokh, that's what happened and that's what you're gonna tell everyone."

"You think we'd let you embarrass our family without doing anything, you fag?"

The burn marks from the cigarettes.

The cupboard exactly the good size for his little body to fit. Locked.

The metal part of the belt cold on the skin. Are the marks gonna ever fade?

The dresses the only clothes in the closet during the weekend.

The radiator, the ropes too tight, sweat everywhere.

The questioning looks from the comrades in the classroom.

The concerns of the teacher.

The questions from the social workers.

"I fell off my bike."

"I fell off the bunk bed."

"The older kids hit me at school."

"The cats scratched me."

"I was too close to the stove."

"I was fighting with my sister."

The inner thoughts.

That's how I can be loved.

I'm sorry I wasn't good enough.

Maybe I shouldn't be proud of who I am.