🙃

💖

Cherie POV:

I've been having dreams so vivid my mind forgets what's real and what isn't. And it's always the same thing. I never reach the end before waking up completely out of breath.

In every paralyzing dream, I sit on the edge of a stream as the sky is falling from above. It seems like streaks of lightening strike down everything in my visible path, but I sit contently smiling.

The world is erupting all around me, but still I wade my feet in the water, splashing around in a calm daze. Then, I hear those laughing echos again and just when I decide to dry my feet to stand, Freddie shows up and the weight of the world is on my shoulders as his hands squeeze around me. I can't remember well enough to connect how I end up underwater, but I wake up gasping for air.

The crushing burden of a paradise so serene makes my body feel on fire and I always awake to buckets of sweat soaking into the bedsheets. It's nothing new.

Too real is this feeling of make-believe! I think subconsciously, I know that I'm declining. My dreams bring forth the truth I suppress during my waking hours.

Even though this morning we woke up to make love, my rapid heartbeat from my nightmare only increased its speed as my body let every sensation of pleasure take me over. The truth is Freddie and I rarely have any steamy sessions of love these days. I can't help it, neither of us can.

This whole fucking dilemma has drained the color from our rosey glasses that once filled up our love. Of course we still love each other. I love him madly! I always will. We've just learned to manage in different ways.

I've grown tired of being medicated. I'm so done with this lethargy. I hate the sick and queasy feelings that come and go. I can't stand my appearance most days, but my Freddie doesn't ever let a sunset pass without telling me how beautiful he still fancies me to be.

The bad days seem to last eternally, but every pleasant moment with the love of my life keeps me going. I'm glad we decided to move away from garden lodge, though we still visit from time to time. Richie's wedding now being one of those times. I think it's increased the reoccurrence of my nightmares.

I also can't stop my mind from run away from me. I know deep down that Freddie hasn't been honest with me. I'm still lying in bed while he's showering to get ready for a night out. I just can't put my finger on what he could be keeping to himself and why? I let my thoughts collect as I sit and wait for the aches of love making to go away.

Both of us have the tendency to hide things from each other, because it's easier that way. Or at least, that's what we've come to both believe. We've never talked it through.

I'm just glad to be in his arms every night and wake up to his voice each new day. There have been more than a few scares over the years, but Freddie has always been my backbone and vice-versa. He's never left my side, not for anything, even when he hasn't felt his best. I always come first in his eyes.

"Why are you wearing those?," I giggle then grimace at the calf-length, bright green socks Freddie is wearing. He comes out of the bathroom fully dressed like he's never matched a day in his life.

"Hmm? Oh....No time for cold feet, my dear— I'm getting married whether u like it or not-," He pushes off his cane that sits by the doorway, gloating from his quick comeback as he walks over to me with a smirk on his lips.

"Nice try," I stare at him, waiting for him to become uncomfortable and break under the pressure, but he doesn't even look up from tying his shoe laces. "Freddie, you can't be serious. That looks ridiculous! You don't even match!"

Now if I've learned anything over the years of having a front row seat to Freddie's many outfit changes, it's that my husband has a flair for fashion & a damned good knowledge of what looks best on or around his body. I won't let him get lazy with age— no, sir. He's still sexy as hell.

"What do you mean?," He rubs his fingers down his pant leg, smoothing the creases. He seems to be mindlessly busying his fingers. I pick up on his nervous habit— what doesn't he want me to know?

"Well for one, green socks and blue shoes. Just-- no," I giggle lightly again, trying to be tender with my critique before I go on. "I don't know what kind of statement you're trying to make with that, but—,"

"Alright- okay!," he kicks his shoes off, wincing a bit I think from the tightly tied laces making the action more difficult. "Dress me up, darling, but nothing boring," He lays sprawled out on his back on our bed, lifting his hands and legs like a helpless child.

"First things first. Take those hideous socks off—,"

"No—Don't!!," He sits back up so quickly, his head hits mine as I bend down to reach for his feet. "Sorry, Sorry! I mean, I...Uh, these are compression socks. I don't want to take my cane out in public, to a bachelor part of all places, I mean, really! I feel old enough as it is!," He's ranting rather quickly. His eyelashes bat a mile a minute as he looks anywhere but my eyes.

"Plus, it's a.. it's a bachelor party thing— Yes— all the boys are wearing ridiculous looking socks. It's a joke...Heavens, Angel, I thought I was the one that wasn't 'down with the get down', or whatever it is Richie and his friends always say," His hands fly around him in a jittery over the top explanation. Almost tantrum-like with how quickly his words fly from his lips. His voice is so high-pitched when he bickers this way— it's cute.

"Okay! Fine, keep your hideous socks, I'll go find longer slacks," I walk away towards his side of the walk in closet, sifting through the walls of color coordinated clothing. All the while, I keep peaking my head back into the bedroom, listening to Freddie humming to himself as he throws on his black leather jacket.

———————————————————————

Freddie POV:

I'm glad to say my mustache is back in tip top shape. I rather regretted shaving it off for a couple of years!

"Almost done....and...there! Good as new," Phoebe puts down the sharp pair of trimming scissors and dusts the little hairs off my shirt.

I pat both of his shoulder, smiling as I scoot off of the counter side stool, "Thank you, Phoebe. What would I do without you, hmm?"

"Oooooh, I don't know," he shrugs as my hands release the tops of his shoulders "You'd probably starve. Maybe forget your birthday book in every studio. Also, the garden would be an absolute catastrop—,"

"Alright. Alright. Okay! I get it!," Shaking my head, I can't help but chuckle along with him. "You're irreplaceable. And don't you forget it."

With a gentle touch, I lightly slap his cheek. "Aren't you going to have a look in the mirror?," he asks as I make my way out of the room. "Nope. I trust you."

"Oh! You look so handsome, Papi!," the next thing I know, Lily crashes into my chest and wraps her arms around me as she squeals her compliment. My cane drops to the floor from the sudden unexpected attack. I hear Phoebe let out a little laugh.

"Can you believe he doesn't think so? He won't even look at himself in the mirror!," Right on, Phoebe. Expose me.

"What?! Well that's crazy!," Lily pulls her head away from my chest, extending my arms with hers as she stand back a bit. "You're the most handsome father, ever. Honestly, you should see the gray-haired, ugly dads my friends have! Plus, they all fancy you— which reminds me, next parent-teacher meeting, try to look a little ugly, please?! My teachers will NOT stop asking about you!"

My smile grows wider by the second as Lily's voice rises with every word she speaks. She's easily inherited my excited way of speaking. And she sure knows how to make me feel better with just the right amount of flattering and encouragement. My precious flower, how I love her so.

"And so I told him, I said 'I don't care about the two of you being present! Richie and Laura are my little babies! I'm coming to see them get married—,"

"Aunt Anita!!!," Lily lets go of my hand to run away towards the source of voices coming from the hallway. "Thank you, Phoebe," I respond as he picks up my cane from the floor, handing it to me before I move to go after Lily.

"Freddie, dear! How are you?," Her arms wrap around my neck in a tight hold. Her hug is long and very much overdue. I've missed her fiery wit, that's for sure. "I'm so happy you're here, Anita," I say lowly as she pulls out of the hug.

"Oh, I wouldn't miss this! Brian and his wife can try to push me out of the picture, but you know me," She slaps my arm, cackling. "I can't be kept away from you lot for too long!"

"Lets get you settled in one of the guest rooms. We can put your things away and plan for a night of catch-up," Cherie suggests as Lily claps her hands excitedly. "Yes! Let's have a girls night. Oh! Oh! I'll go pick some movies!," The thumping that small child can produce is astounding as she bounces off, no doubt in search of our movie collection.

As Phoebe helps Anita get settled, Cherie hooks her arms through mine to make our way towards the living room. "Mum, how about Grown-Ups? Or should we do a chick flick? Oooooh! What about a horror movie!"

"Our life's been enough of a horror movie—owww," Cherie shoves me a bit to get me to stop my mumbling comment.

"Oh, you big baby, you're fine! Now, hush," She kisses my cheek, letting go of my arm as we've reached the couch. She sits beside me, cuddling closely as I wrap my arm around her frame. I kiss the top of her head, slowly taking in the roses. Her hair, though she swears it's thinning, is still recognizably soft and sweet-smelling as it's ever been.

"Mary will be here soon, too," She says as she nestles her head onto my shoulder. "Oh? I didn't know she was coming this early. Did she say if she was bringing the boys?," I ask while nodding at the movie prospects Lily has chosen.

"She didn't say, but she wants to be a part of wedding week. You know, helping with last minute details, this and that and such"

Not a moment later the doorbell rings, but before any of us can get up to answer it, Lily parades out of the room, excitedly. "Uncle Roger! Come in!"

The two of them walk into the living room, Roger expectantly waiting by the doorway, "I thought you and Rosie were staying at the Deacons?," Cherie asks as she gets up to give Roger a welcoming hug. "I just came to wait for the limo here. John and Brian should be here soon," he replies.

I plant my cane down, feeling for the grip of the carpet, taking a deep sigh as I rise from my seat. The sigh becomes a grunt as Rogers heavy hand hits my back. "You sure you're ready for this, old man?"

I swear no matter how many years pass by, to me he will always be that blondie with the annoyingly high, raspy voice that. He's also my best friend, so only I can jibe at him like so.

"Ahh hah...Who's the one going grey so soon? The bleach dye can only last so long, darling..," I wink at him as he puffs air out of his lips preparing his retort.

"Yeah, well at least I've still got my hair. How many bald spots is it now, Fred? Just the one? Or..tw—,"

"Oh, fuck off! I can't help that God crowned me twice, now can I?"

"The two of you keep going on like that, you'll embarrass my little Richie," Cherie juts in, placing her hand on my back between my shoulder blades, rubbing small circles, soothingly. She knows I hate to be teased about my hair, always have.

"Oh just these two baffoons showing up will be enough embarrassment already!," Anita laughs at her own joke as she joins us.

"Not only us. John and Brian, too. Deacys dance moves alone will make for a cringey sight!," Rogers words drip out of his mouth. He's just full of jokes today, isn't he?

"Oh, in that case," she tisks her tongue, "Richie hasn't got a chance."

————————————————————————

????POV:

I've really been knockin 'em back. Like, really really.

Anything to get me to relax! Charlie's presence just added an extra oomph to the atmosphere. She commanded attention, even when just sitting silently still.

Okay, let's face it. The girl is never quiet! I could tell Richie's annoyance was getting the best of him, so being the good friend that I am, I kept ordering drinks and all of us were basically hammered.

To be quite honest, Charlie isn't the only thing that's got me fidgeting in a nervous tangle. Her father, well Richie's— Freddie FUCKING Mercury is going to be joining us soon! All of Queen will be here and I don't know how to handle life right now.

I've always been a huge queen fan. Growing up I wished to have been old enough to go to concerts, but I still know every record by heart and I'll never be ashamed of that. It's funny really, the fact that Richie and I hit it off so well. I mean, out of all the possible arrangements it was he and I that ended up being roommates throughout our years at University.

I'm just glad he's never seen me as a fame-chaser or anything like that— nah. It's not like that with us. We're genuinely really friends, I mean, I am his best man after all.

The night really isn't as much of a huge deal as I'd have made it if I had the chance. For some reason, Rich is just really paranoid about parties and celebration— all things of that nature.

"Another round for the table!," Charlie comes from the dance floor immediately beckoning the waitress for more drinks. She hasn't really talked to me since she's joined us, but I'm getting there. I have to admit my heart pangs with jealousy to see her seated between Rufus and Michael. It's like her every move is a flirtatious action.

The waitress comes back with our shots, lining them up in the center of the table, "Woah, slow down there— the nights still young," Rufus tries to take one of the two shots Rich has in his hands, but he's not having it. He yells over the booming music that has picked up in the background, stopping his train of thought just as she takes the stage.

"Ya know, we should find another place to hit up next. Somewhere more— oh, God oh god oh god WHY!?," His hands hide his face away, but being called out makes him put on a shy smile as he waves to the applause like a good sport.

"This ones for my lovely big brother— ladies, he's taken! But isn't he a looker!," The music starts with a heavy drum beat and electric guitar as Charlie makes her way through the crowd towards us, microphone in hand as she points to Richie.

"Give me this," he takes my drink from my hands and starts to chug the hard liquor, blowing the alcohol burn from his throat.

🎶That girl thinks she's the

queen of the neighborhood!

She's got the hottest trike in town🎶

I feel my ears heat up, my face must be a red mess of a flush. Charlie's dancing around the table, pink fluffy feather boa wrapping around each of us, until she comes to my side. The feather boa she seductively dances with is looped around my neck as she sits in my lap.

🎶In her hips, there's revolution

When she walks, the revolution's coming

In her kiss, I taste the revolution🎶

Her body slithers on top of me, shimmying and shaking to the rhythm as she sings looking directly in my eyes. By reflex, my hands grab at her hips and—

"Char! That's enough!," Richie stands from his seat across the table. His hand reaches out to grab Charlie's arm to try and get her away from me. My own hands fall to my sides, I don't know what I was thinking.

Okay— yes I do. I was thinking I'd like to take her home tonight, but it's not like I can act on that thought. I almost forgot where I was. It's like she puts a spell on me. A drowning spell of lust and I can only see her.

His attempts don't effect her, Charlie moves away before Rich can get close enough. The large wooden table separated us from his side. Charlie just keeps on signing and dancing around, I guess she does know how to get a party going.

She had the attention of practically everyone in the bar as she directed me to join her with a curl of her finger. I hold my hands up, shaking my head with probably the biggest, goofiest smile on my face. She rolls her eyes at me, strolls over to reel me towards her with the feather boa tickling around my neck again.

"Rebel girl, rebel girl 🎶

🎶Rebel girl you are the queen of my world

Rebel girl, rebel girl 🎶

🎶I know I wanna take you home"

I bite my lip as she drags me to the stage with her. And I can't help it now, we've got an audience. All eyes on us as we move together, dancing as I hold her closer to me. Too captured to pay any mind to the whooping hollers from the crowd, snipping on the irresistible aroma of love. The alcohol hitting my system, adrenaline and eagerness pumping my heart on fire as she grinds her hips on me.

————————————————————————-

Freddie POV:

It feels like old times again. The four of us stuffed into the back of a limo, fiddling with the complimentary champagne bottle, trying to get the bloody thing open.

"Give it here," I grab the bottle from Brian's hands, only taking a few seconds to pop the cork. "Shit!"

The fizzy drink spills out before I can get it in a glass. "Let me, I've got it," Deacy reaches for the bottle as I try to find a napkin to soak up the liquor that's wet my slacks.

"Bloody hell! Freddie, I—,"

"Huh...What?," I reply impatiently to Brian, who now has his hand on my other knee. Looking up to meet his eyes, I can't be sure, but he looks to be in shock.

"Your.. you— what happened to your le—,"

Instantly I catch drift to what he's looking at. I quickly roll my sock up higher than before, pulling my pant leg back down. "No- Fred, I just-,"

"There's nothing. It's nothing, dear. Don't you worry— I just fell is all," Trying to keep my voice down from the others who've just been pouring champagne down their gullets, oblivious to our side conversation.

Brian's hand covers mine as he squeezes me in his grip firmly. "Show me," he insists.

I sigh heavily, not wanting to be the center of focus. As fast as I can I lift my pants, one time, just to hear the heart wrenching gasp catch in his throat. "Oh, Freddie..."

His arm wraps around my shoulders and he tries to pull me into a hug, as he sniffles his nose. Is he really going To get emotional right now? I pull away from him, shifting in my seat before asking Roger to pass my champagne glass.

"To Richie! From Godson to son—," John raises his glass to a little toast. I interrupt trying to get Brian to stop staring at me. "And to precious Laura, my new official daughter! Let's make a night of it, shall we," the four of us reach over to clink glasses, champagne spilling from the rim of the over flowing glasses as we do.