Freddie laid in bed alone.

It was dark outside, the wind in the trees, and the streetlights shone through the window.

He stared at his ceiling, staring at the darkness surrounding him. Rolling over, trying to fall asleep, had not worked. He couldn't sleep. He was too busy thinking about that Jim Hutton- the most handsome man he had ever seen- what was he to do?

So he sat up, crawling out of bed. He had to write something for Jim. Something that was meaningful.

He sat at his keyboard alone- Freddie Mercury, great musician, tapped out a few notes on his piano.

B--C--B--G

He began to hum along with the piano, and finally sang as he created a gentle tune on the piano.

He continued writing until dawn, when the sun rose high up in the sky.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me. 

You've broken my heart, and now you leave me."

He wasn't sure where the lyrics came from. Maybe they were because of Mary. Maybe they were about Jim. He wasn't sure what they meant or who they were for. But he kept writing them.

Freddie awoke to a knock on the door. He was still there, his head on the side of the piano, his handwritten notes and lyrics against the stand. The party was starting! He wasn't ready! Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He jumped up and checked the time. No, it was an hour before the party- who was knocking? 
Freddie raced to the door- who could it be-? Brian, Roger, and John? Probably. Nobody interesting--

Freddie stopped short in his tracks, suddenly blushing.

He had gone to bed shirtless, wearing only a pair of loose sweatpants, and there was Jim Hutton, standing outside his door in a nice, neat suit, smiling.

"Come on in, darling, the party's not started, but perhaps you can help me get ready."

"When does it start?" Jim inquired. "You didn't tell me."

"It starts at 6."

"When's it end."

"Goddamn, who knows? When everyone leaves!" Freddie called jubilantly over his shoulder. "Now help me get ready!"

Jim watched as Freddie laid out heaps of chips, cigarettes, and beer. Dancing about, looking hot as hell (but when did he not?). Freddie opened up a bottle and took a long swig from it, before setting it down on the table. He hurried upstairs to change into a tank top and jeans before coming downstairs to watch everyone arrive. He cranked up the stereo. He turned it off every now and then to sing. Everyone screamed and yelled and drank and smoked. Jim sipped his beer in the corner of the room, a lit cigarette in his hand, when Freddie appeared and took it.

"Now, darling, you won't be doing both at once, will you?" Freddie grinned, setting his beer on the stairwell and setting Jim's cigarette drunkedly into his mouth. He tipped over as he danced, taking Jim's hand and then returning the cigarette in favor of a big gulp of beer.

"Jim, sweetheart, dance with me." Fred slurred drunkenly, taking Jim's hand and twirling him about through the crowd. Both boys red in the face, waltzing to rock music through the crowd of drunk and high people.

Freddie led Jim in a waltz towards the stairwell, pushing him against the wall. His lips brushed Jim's pink cheeks, as his hands traveled up Jim's arms and shoulders.

"F-freddie... what are you...?"

Freddie smiled, his soft lips grazing Jim's ear as he whispered, "It's not a party without sex, darling." A shiver went through Jim's spine. What...?

Freddie's hands traveled up Jim's chest and lifted his chin up to pull him into a tender kiss. Cool, smooth hands traveling up Jim's cheek, behind his ear, down his shirt in the back, and across his shoulder blades. Freddie's dark eyes, flickering in the light, drunk, high, beautiful.

Fuck, I want him so bad.