He Makes Me (Queen AU)

Chapter 63

Tim's curt replies rubbed him the wrong way, and while he hadn't realized it upon barging in, so did his appearance. It struck him as odd that he answered the door in nothing but a robe, but even stranger was how sickly he seemed to be underneath it. The blonde was aware that some time had passed since they last spent time together, but he didn't remember the brunette looking so thin, or so exhausted.

Snapping Gordon out of his contemplative daze, Tim coughed. At first, it was as if he'd swallowed a drink and it went down the wrong pipe, but then his hacking grew wet, and before the blonde knew it, a worrisome spray of red spewed past his lips and spattered the floor by his feet.

"Whoa, mate, are you okay?" he asked worriedly, reaching out instinctively to help but maintaining the distance between them, fearful that he was susceptible to catching whatever it was that so horrifically ailed his friend.

Tim—folded over with bloody hands on wobbly knees—nodded, choking out a hoarse, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. Should I call—" He threw a thumb over his shoulder and inched towards the dark entryway that led to the back door, and ultimately the shed where his old schoolmate was locked up.

"No!" the bassist cried, shooting his hand out and stopping his concerned guest dead in his tracks. He swallowed the lump that tasted like iron in his throat and straightened his posture, using the back of his wrist to wipe away the red gloss that stained his lips. "You can't."

"Why not?" Gordon asked, his heart now noticeably pounding against his chest—fast.

They're going to come for you, the vile, disembodied voice only Tim could hear once more warned. They'll lock you away forever.

"The, uh..." he ran a trembling hand through his disheveled hair, trying to come up with an excuse—a believable, non-incriminating excuse. Wasting more time than he would've liked, he finally explained, "The phone lines are down. The storm, it...it knocked them out hours ago."

He wasn't wrong.

"Well shit," Gordon murmured defeatedly, his hands back on his hips. He bit his lip, trying to think of the next best solution. "I mean, I did drive here, so if you think you make it out there, I could—"

"You should go, Gordon," the brunette cut him short, coughing dryly behind a closed fist and attracting his gaze with a narrowed one. "I think it'd be best for both of us."

The blonde had never heard a more serious tone in his friend's voice, nor had he witnessed him behave like this, or look like this. It was almost as though he was in the presence of a stranger, despite that stranger having the same name as the boy he met at the club one night, and the two of them standing in the same, eerie place that boy called home.

Fighting the strong temptation to stay behind and help, Gordon swallowed the argument that swelled in his throat and threw the parka's hood back over his head—a fresh dusting of snow fanning out across the floor before him. "If that's what you want," he grumbled as he headed for the door, brushing shoulders roughly with the brunette.

Tim kept his back to Gordon as he ripped the front door open, welcoming in the cold that had only grown sharper as time drew on. He tossed one more hopeful glance over his shoulder, but his last-ditch effort went unnoticed—or rather, ignored—and he left, unable to shake the suspicion that something was off. He just couldn't quite place his finger on what that something was.

With his hands in his pockets and his head hung low, he trudged through the thick snow to get to his car that had seen better days but somehow managed to get him through this storm. He threw open the trunk and reached for the bag of kitty litter he'd stored back there—his girlfriend insisting he buy it one day for when they moved in together. Though they parted ways before Gordon ever had to share his apartment with her or her cat, the purchase had already been made, and when he attempted to return it for a refund, the stingy pet shop owner refused to take it back. So, for months, it sat like dead weight in the back of the blonde's car, but with the increasingly treacherous London winters and this worsening storm, he was never more glad to have held on to it.

As soon as Gordon set the bag down—not as heavy as it once was but still considerably weighty—he shot one last look at the place Neil had written to him about.

He found it hard to believe that the sixteen-year-old had lied to him. What could he have possibly gained from sending him to Tim's place, only for him not to be there? Was it a prank? Retribution for all the years Gordon manipulated him, knowing how he felt towards him? While it certainly wasn't the blonde's proudest moment, he couldn't imagine that the damage he'd done was bad enough that Neil would play games like this with him. It just didn't make sense.

Suddenly, a faint but distinctive clamor hit his ear, the empty lot to the right of the complex attracting his attention. Though the wind and snow made visibility scarce, he heard clearly the desperate shouting coming from someone in the distance, accompanied by the dull pounding of fists similar to the kind he made against Tim's front door.

Frightened, Gordon's heart began to race once more, and before it could escape from his chest, he hastily scattered the kitty litter underneath his car's tires and threw the bag back into his trunk, hopping into the driver's side and scrambling to insert his key into the ignition. The engine sputtered to life, and once it gained a steady purr, he slammed on the gas and flew down the road—the wheels kicking up snow as he sped off.

He didn't look back to see Tim standing in the front doorway, leaning against the threshold and watching his old friend disappear into the wintry day with lips curled upward in a triumphant grin.

He's onto you, his reflection whispered snidely in his ear, existing now in one of the long, tall, glass panes of the front door—the only glass uncovered in the entire complex. It's only a matter of time until he comes back and finds them.

"'Doesn't matter," the brunette replied grimly, his smile falling into a straight line. "We won't be here by then."