ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖⁱᵉ

˚₊‧꒰ა 🎤 ‧₊˚

[ world tour ]

📍𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙱𝚄𝚁𝙶𝙷, 𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟼

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞.

The crowd screamed as Freddie took his leather jacket off, revealing the entirety of his black and white diamond body suit as he sat down at the piano. "How much do they love him?" Paul asked you and Mary. "Can't get enough?"

Mary nodded softly, attempting to put a smile on. You noticed her quiet nature, so you slipped your hand into hers, and this seemed to snap her out of her funk, looking over at you and grinning. The lights dimmed as Freddie sang the ending lyrics, and the boys slowly sunk into the back of the stage. 

"Any way the wind blows."

A bright, white light suddenly beamed down on Roger, and you watched as he banged the fluffy stick against the large gong drum that was hanging center backstage. 

Queen had travelled across the entirety of the world, going to major pitstops such as Liverpool, Tokyo, Perth, Glasgow, London, Osaka, Sydney, Rio, and numerous American states.

"Tom, Jerry, can you hear me?" Freddie questioned into the telephone. He was calling Mary, as she had decided to miss out on certain pitstops. 

"Freddie, when do I get to see you?" she asked softly.

"I'll be home soon, darling," he answered. "Did Y/N call you?"

"Yes," she chuckled. "She seems to be having the time of her life."

"Oh, she is. And from what Roger's so nicely told me and the boys, he's been the object of her overstimulation," he laughed. Mary giggled, shaking her head at her friend's misbehavior. "Will you put Romeo on the phone so I can tell him I miss him?"

"...Do you miss me? " Mary wondered with a small, hopeful smile.

He paused, grinning gently. "What a stupid question. Of course, I do."

It was silent for a moment as Freddie looked over towards Paul and a younger looking man. Mary's whisper brought him back, "I love you."

"Goodnight." With a slight shake in his hand, he placed the telephone back into its hold, and on the other side of the now deadline, Mary sat with a frown, wondering why her fiancé didn't say it back.

The next morning, Freddie made his way into his apartment's living room, and was greeted by Paul, "Morning, boss." 

He was sitting at the dining table with a newspaper in hand, watching as one of the maids served out a platter of breakfast dishes on the table.

Freddie slowed to a stop, tying the strap of his night gown, glancing nervously at the maid. With pursed lips, he walked over to the large floor-to-ceiling window, gaze washing over the view of Rio. "Clean this mess and get rid of your friend," he demanded.

Paul sighed, clicking his fingers as the man barely woke up from his sleep. "Get dressed," he ordered. The man was quick to get up, gathering his clothes and slipping out the door in a matter of minutes.

Back in England, Freddie and Mary were in their apartment, the singer bending down besides the television where the screen showed the concert in Rio. "According to Brian, it was the largest paying audience in history," he informed Mary, who looked close to tears. She smiled slightly as he stood up, soon sitting at the end of the couch as they watched the performance. Mary shuffled over to him and a look of unease as he continued, "The whole night...I didn't know if they understood a thing I was saying. And then..."

The crowd sang for him.

"Love of my life,

You've hurt me.

You've broken my heart,

And now you leave me.

Love of my life,

Can't you see?

Bring it back,

Bring it back.

Don't take it away from me."

"They're all singing," Freddie smiled. "Thousands of them. All singing to you." Mary's eyes welled with tears, and she found that Freddie too was tearing up. "Because it's true."

"Freddie, what's wrong?" she asked with a shake of her head. She turned in her seat, and he followed her actions with a gulp. "Something's been wrong for a while now...Say it." Freddie looked at her, and she urged a bit louder, "Say it."

He moved his leg and licked his lip, anything to ease his mind. "I've been thinking about it a lot...I think I'm bisexual."

"Freddie, you're gay," Mary stated in a whisper. She stood up just as he reached for her, moving over to the curtained window. She sniffled, feeling the burning behind her eyes. "I've known for a while now, I just didn't want to admit it. It's funny, really. This is what I always settle for. 'I love you, but...', 'I love you, Mary, but I need space.' 'I love you, Mary, but I've met someone else.' And now, 'I love you, but I'm...'" She breathed shakily, holding onto the necklace she was wearing. "And this is the hardest, because it's not even your fault."

She turned to look at him but discovered Freddie to be staring at the ground with furrowed brows. Mary reached down and began sliding the engagement ring off he had had given her all those years ago. "No, don't take it off," Freddie pleaded as he watched her, standing up and rushing to her. "Don't take it off. You promised me you'd never take it off."

"What do you want from me?"

"Almost everything." Her eyes widened as her lip quivered. "I want you in my life."

"Why?" she whispered.

"We believe in each other," Freddie smiled. "And that's everything. For us."

Mary raised her hands to his cheeks, softly muttering, "Your life is going to be very difficult."

You sighed in content, feeling the steady heartbeat of Roger's heart beneath you. There were a million thoughts swirling in your head, but you knew that now was the time to actually allow your boyfriend to hear them. "Rog," you gently called. He hummed in response, and you felt it reverberate through his chest. Raising your head, you watched as his eye's lost focus on the television, and moved to your face instead. "I have some news."

"News?" he repeated. You nodded, raising to your feet as he sat up straighter on the couch. "What is it?"

"How long have we been together?" you asked. 

Roger's eyes widened as he looked at you in fear. "Is this a test?" You chuckled, shaking your head and kneeling down in front of his legs. A sultry smirk made its way to his lips as he watched me. "I like where this 'news' is going." You frowned, swiftly leaning up and whacking his head. "Ow, Jesus!"

"For once in your life, can you allow your mind to not fall into the gutter?" you questioned, and he wordlessly nodded, though he had a scowl on his face as he rubbed his head. "Anyway, answer the question."

"Uh...a year...and three-, no, that's definitely not it," he quickly corrected upon seeing your raised brow. "...Five months?"

The corners of your lips lifted into a smile as you nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief. You wringed your hands, seeming to find it harder to spit out this life-changing news with each word that left your mouth. So, with a breath, you decided to spit it out.

"I'm pregnant, Rog."

Roger went still, his mouth slightly dropped as he felt his body slowly spiral into a completely numb exterior. You were about to speak, but decided against it, giving him some time to let the news sink in. It had been a minute, so you decided to raise your hand in front of his eyes, waving it slowly. But there was no response. You huffed, rolling your eyes and slapped his cheek. Hard. 

This seemed to snap him out of it as he shook his head. Slowly, he looked down at you, and you were displeased at his choice of words. "You want some tea?"

You were not expecting that.

"Uh, well- sure-."

"Perfect!" he yelled, and wrenched his body from the couch, running over to the kitchen. His movements were sloppy due to the speed he was going, often knocking over bowls and cups as he scrambled to grab a tea bag. 

You got up from the floor, walking over to the kitchen as you shouted for him, "Rog- Roger!"

"ENGLISH BREAKFAST?!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. Roger went silent, the only sound emitting from him were his heavy breaths. He lifted his palms to his eyes, throwing his head back as let out a sigh. 

You slowly moved over to him, softly dancing your fingers over his back to alert him, before you wrapped your arms around his waist. You leaned your forehead against his back, taking a deep inhale of much needed air. "I'm sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he whispered back after a moment. "Half of it was my fault," he joked. Roger smiled at sound of your laughter, looking down at your locked fingers that were settled at his lower abdomen. He leaned his hands down, slowly lifting yours and pressing feather soft kisses to each knuckle and nail. Roger turned around in your arms, and you raised your gaze to meet his. He stared down at you for a moment, before raising his hands and wiping away the small tears that dropped with his thumbs. 

"What are we going to do now?" you asked. 

Roger offered you a tiny smile, exhaling deeply as if to steel his nerves. "Think of some cute fucking baby names, that's what."