Kyra took a deep breath as her eyes did not leave Brian. The musician was staring into space, and almost seemed to forget about the world surrounding him. It was as if he was not aware of the air filling his lungs, or the friendly arm encircling his shoulders in an attempt to comfort him. Even though his eyes were burning, he did not blink. The tears kept running down his cheeks, and some of them were dangling from his chin before they dried.

After a long silence, Brian eventually moved. He buried his hand in his curls and glanced at the ceiling.

"I... I booked myself into a clinic last year."

Concern filled the journalist's eyes as Brian spoke. She tried to find the right words to say, but nothing came out of her mouth. Helpless, she gently rested her chin on his shoulder, rubbing his arm. This simple gesture made the musician blush and grin shyly, but too briefly.

"I wanted to recover, you know," he murmured. "I went to Arizona. Nobody knew me there. I lost so many things at once last year that I couldn't bear it. I mean... It was too much for me. I'm not sure that I still can handle it, but I felt so much better when I worked on the album."

"I see what you mean. I'm glad that you made a step forward all by yourself. It shows you're strong. Stronger than you may think."

Brian shrugged and grabbed a tissue he kept under his elbow. He turned to the wall and quickly blew his nose. He sniffed and threw the tissue in the bin next to the table.

He crossed his arms, and a quiet sob took hold of him.

"Nobody can understand how it feels. Except people who were put in clinics. I feel like nobody around me knows what it feels like, y'know? I'm all alone in that shit."

"I understand what you're going through, Mr May. I mean I know what you went through at the clinic" Kyra whispered. "When I was nineteen, I suffered from anxiety and depression. I'm still unable to tell you what triggered all that. The thing is, even if I managed to recover from my depression, my anxiety never left. And my parents sent me to that clinic. It was hell, but I knew I was safe."

Brian stared at her, listening to every word she was saying. He gulped and scratched his chin.

"You... You went to a clinic? You too?"

"Yes. Me too."

Kyra kept rubbing Brian's arm, and took his hand in hers, smiling at him. She waited for him to say something, but he obviously was miles away.

"You've done great, Mr May. You found the little something that managed to take your mind off all those murky thoughts. And the fact that you went to this clinic all by yourself means a lot. It was already a small victory."

"Maybe, but look at me now..."

"Everybody can feel weak at a moment or another. That doesn't mean you didn't win."

Brian looked up and his hazel eyes plunged themselves into hers, and a few wrinkles appeared at their corners as he pondered about what Kyra said. At that very moment, he realised that the cold coat of sadness that had covered him a few moments before was slowly falling. As if Kyra's caring hands were pulling it away from him, ready to throw it away and burn it.

The warmth of her presence was surrounding him, and he wished this feeling would never fade.

She rummaged through her bag and took out a pack of tissues. With a friendly grin, she handed it to him, and he grabbed it, not without thanking her. She pulled away for a moment, giving him some space to blow his nose.

"Would you like a glass of water, Mr May?"

Brian stopped blowing his nose for a second and smiled. "I wouldn't refuse one. Thank you, Ms Duke."

Kyra got up and grabbed the empty cup before him, knowing it was his from before. She walked up to the other side of the room where she found a water dispenser. She pushed a button and a weak trickle started to fill the cup.

Hearing Brian coughing, she turned to him, and saw him dragging a sheet of paper before him. As he started to focus on what it said, Kyra got lost in her thoughts.

Never had she thought that Brian May had this darkness within him that would weaken him at that point. At first sight, he seemed like a very cheerful person, always chatting with people around him, although a bit shyly sometimes. He seemed very enthusiastic about some things, and when he would talk about his interests, the passion he felt for them would just burst and touch his audience. Yet, deep inside, something was missing. Kyra had understood it. And whenever he would need this thing, loneliness and despair would invade him.

Seeing such a figure she had always admired for his talent and devotion for all the things he loved breaking down was a terrible experience. Her heart was aching.

A cold liquid flowed on her fingers, dragging her back to reality. She immediately removed her finger from the button of the dispenser, and poured a bit of the overflowing water out from the cup. She walked back to Brian, who apparently had managed to relax, and gave him the cup.

"Thank you, Ms Duke. I'm sorry about all that, you know."

"About what, sir?"

Brian sipped his water and gulped. "I'm sorry that I asked Roger to call you, and that you felt obliged to come."

"Mr May, don't be ridiculous. If I hadn't wanted to listen to Mr Taylor, I would've told him."

"But I wasted your time. Just... Complaining, really," Brian chuckled softly.

"My time would've been wasted if I hadn't come to cheer you up. Don't you think?"

The musician looked up and spotted the warm smile she was giving him. He smiled back at her and before he could even think, he pulled her into a hug. Kyra did not push him away, simply because she felt honoured to be granted this embrace. They stayed still for a few minutes, not saying a word, before Brian broke the silence.

"Thank you, Ms Duke. For cheering me up, and for coming today."

"Don't thank me, Mr May. That's what a normal human-being would do."

Brian laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Freddie would've loved you, you know."

Kyra's cheeks began to turn red. She knew that Brian would not say such a thing without meaning it. Actually, the mere fact that he pronounced his name was the result of an incredible effort. The thought of patting his back crossed her mind for a while, before she gave up on it and decided to start a conversation instead.

"It's such an honour to hear that!" she exclaimed. "What makes you think he would've liked me?"

"He loved kind-hearted people. He was one of them. Actually, I think he always fell a bit for anyone who would show him the tiniest act of kindness. That's why he felt more than awful each time someone betrayed him in any way..."

"I think we're all a bit like him. What was it like, y'know... working with him?"

Brian's eyes lit up as his memories flowed freely in his brain. The corners of his lips rose a little, and he turned to Kyra.

"It was always a bliss," he answered, before chuckling. "Of course, the bastard would always start pointless arguments and fights. He always said it helped him a lot when he lacked inspiration. We often fussed over stupid things, really."

The musician's laugh filled the room and made it more welcoming all of a sudden. Kyra smiled and listened to him attentively.

"Do you want to hear about one of the funniest things that happened in the studio?"

"Of course!" she replied, resting her chin in the palm of her hand.

"One day we were rehearsing, I don't remember when precisely, Freddie got extremely pissed at us because we messed up a lot of notes. He started a fight, and he ended up storming out of the studio, saying he was doing it for good. Roger and John started to panic when they realised he hadn't come back after half an hour."

Kyra laughed and ran a hand through her hair. "Did he show up in the end?"

"Well, yes, and that's the funny part," Brian continued, smiling from ear to ear. "I was the only one who wasn't panicking. I just picked up his microphone and called 'Oh, Freddie? Freddie-poo? Freddiekins, where are you?' Almost immediately, he poked his head back in and yelled 'Don't call me that!'"

Both shared a laugh, and Kyra pictured the scene in her head. Warmth seized her left hand unexpectedly, and she looked down at it: Brian was holding it. Their eyes met, and the musician's smile widened.

"Thank you again, Ms Duke. I haven't talked about him in ages. Not even with Rog and Deaky. It feels so good."

"I'm glad you feel that way, Mr May."

The door flew wide open, and a figure tiptoed to the table they were sat around. They both recognised Roger, who was carrying a plate with a piece of cake in it. He sat in front of them and laughed.

"Deaky's going to get mad at me if he sees me with the last piece of his favourite cake! I'd better eat it quickly!"

As no reply came from the two others, he looked up and noticed they still were holding hands. He gulped and made his glasses slip to the end of his nose, as his blue eyes went from Brian to Kyra, then from Kyra to Brian.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"Absolutely not," Kyra smiled, letting go of Brian's hand. "I'm going to head home now and write that article. When I finish it, who shall I contact?"

"You can contact our manager," Roger answered. "Do you have his number, or do you want me to write it on a piece of paper?"

"I have my notepad, hold on a second."

Kyra rummaged through her bag and grabbed her notepad, as well as her pen. She handed both to the drummer, who scribbled the number on a random page.

"I know his number by heart, I'm so used to call him to piss him off!"

Roger gave her her belongings back, and gave her a lovely smile.

"I hope we'll get to meet again soon, Ms Duke. It was a pleasure to meet you."

"The feeling is mutual, Mr Taylor. Well, Mr May, I'm afraid it's time for me to go. Thank you for your hospitality."

"Well, it's not as if we invited you at our homes!" Roger joked.

Brian threw a piece of paper at him to shut him up. He stood up from his chair and hugged Kyra once again.

"Thank you for coming. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

"Of course. Goodbye, Mr May, Mr Taylor. Take care!"

"Goodbye, Ms Duke, and good luck with the article. Please make it home safely."

Kyra nodded and grinned. She waved at the two musicians and proceeded to leave the room, when suddenly, Roger's hoarse voice stopped her.

"Oh, by the way, Ms Duke, if you come across Deaky, could you please tell him to get me more cake?"