Freddie Mercury one-shots

Lycoris Radiata (Frian)

3rd person's POV:

He does't feel happy. Not at all. The nights are usually dark like that. But tonight there is no one holding him. David is gone. Probably forever. He's gone with his other boyfriend, they're probably sleeping together in the same bed, they're probably in each other's arms.

He cant't get that image out of his head. He just sees the man he loves with his whole heart on top of someone else. In the bed they shared for months. He can remember hearing their gasps and moans even before he had opened the door. He could hear them in the whole flat.

The night had never been as dark as tonight. It feels frightening, like it's never going to end. He doesn't think he'll ever feel happy again. Because he's never felt so depressed, and usually he doesn't have a lot of hope, but he's always surprised when he had been wrong.

He didn't call anyone. He just sat on his couch since it happened. It was 2 in the afternoon. Now it's already 11 pm. He doesn't have the strength to call Roger, the person he usually talks to when he doesn't feel good. He doesn't want anyone to take him out of his misery and Roger would only try and cheer him up. He didn't call John, because Freddie is like a big brother to him, it'd be too embarrassing.

He thought about Brian. Brian with the soft voice and the adorable smile that made him feel something different than any other smile. Brian that he knows would know what it feels like. But maybe he's sad too tonight. And Brian likes to be alone when it happened, and if he doen't he has Chrissie. Freddie would never want to bother him.

He doesn't think he can breathe anymore. Because he feels so empty. Because his thoughts are so loud in the quiet of the flat. He just wants to go to sleep, just to find out if it's better in the morning. But he can't ever go back in the bedroom. He would see the picture of him and David on the nightstand. He would smell David and his boyfriend on the sheets. He knows he'd never be able to sleep on the couch.

Tomorrow they're gonna be working in the studio. He'll be exhausted. There are not many things he could do. He doesn't feel like drinking alcohol, it just makes the thoughts even louder usually. Tea doesn't seem appealing. Nothing seems appealing anymore. Everything's so dull and boring. He doesn't even feel like listening to music, and it scares him. Because he always wants to listen to music.

Suddenly, he feels the tears burning the back of his throat. He doesn't want to cry, he isn't sure he even wants to live. Because he doesn't know what's left to live for. Would the boys be sad if he's not there? If they go to the studio to never see him open the door again after being late? Would they even cry for him? He knows he should, but he doesn't know the answers.

He takes the notebook that had been left there after the last time he had written lyrics. The pen shakes slightly in his almost frail hands. The words come out too quickly on the paper. Why is it so easy?

That's what people do, isn't it? Write a note, a note to say goodbye, to say sorry, to explain.

David left me, he cheated on me, in our own bed. He didn't seem apologetic. He told me it had been going on for weeks, that I wasn't the one. I didn't have the courage to say anything to him. He took his things and left. I can't cope.

Don't blame yourselves for what's inevitable. I can't find any reason for me to still be here. I was already broken, now I'm not sure I'm even reparable.

I'm sorry for not being able to say this face to face. I don't have the courage to look into each of your eyes and tell you I no longer feel like living. I love you too much to let you boys see me like that.

I hope you'll always remember me as your bubbly and sometimes very annoying best friend,

Freddie.