Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

𝐴𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑙, 1975

Bernadette's heavy heels dragged on the dusty pavement, chunky buckled boots doing her no favours whatsoever as she dragged her body home. Although, the word 'home' held little meaning to her at the moment, her life was in absolute upheaval on the basis of where she was living. Currently, the dingy little flat she was renting in the center of London was doing nothing for her, only making her pour yet another glass of wine on a weekday evening. So, Bernie and Florence (aka: Flo) had made the best but worst decision two sisters could ever make: they were moving into a brand new flat together.

Well, they were trying to, anyway. Currently their landlord was making their lives difficult, refusing to talk on the phone and only communicating via letters using his surname, of which Flo was at the end of her tether with. Being a live-in carer and the eldest sibling did little to help the matter, leaving her to sort a lot of the faff out whilst her workaholic younger sister trained her arse off day in, day out.

Yet still, the two sisters never battered an eyelid at what life threw at them, they were hard as nails and only needed each other to get by.

Trudging through the door, Bernie slammed her keys onto the yellowing kitchen countertop and kicked her chunky boots carelessly onto the threadbare mat. She knew it would cause a ruckus through the thin floorboards and disturb the downstairs neighbours, but she didn't care in the slightest. 11 hours at the police station was enough to make anybody drop. They say 'shop till you drop', but Bernie personally thought that the saying should be 'cop till you drop', because that was the lifestyle she seemed to be living.

Showering was like a blessed waterfall of tranquility, engulfing Bernie in swirly, soapy steam and erasing her from the woes of the outside. Usually she loved her job, but today had been exceptionally difficult with the sun beating relentlessly onto her exposed neck, whilst she was forced to endure heavy physical training. Despite the salvation of the shower providing mental relaxation, it did little to improve the twisting, grinding aches in her muscles as a result of the constant exertion of the day.

With the towel still draped around her tall, toned body, Bernie scampered around like a headless chicken when she heard somebody enter her house, just as she had stepped out of the shower. Of course, it could only be one of the only two people that had a key to gain access into her 'home', but the sudden appearance of her curly haired best friend gave her quite a shock.

Hair dripping, makeup flaking and body shivering, Brian inspected her up and down before nodding and grabbing a beer from the rack, scraping a chair across the stained carpet (from careless previous tenants) and plonking himself down; taking a large slug from the glass bottle. "Save me one," was all Bernie said and with that, she turned back around and clicked the bedroom door shut to get dressed.

It certainly wasn't unusual for Brian to pay Bernie an impromptu visit, 21 years of friendship aided that. And in those 2 decades, a lot worse things had happened than Brian making himself at home when Bernie was only partially ready to tend to company. Compared to their past, that was mild. Mundane, even. Nonetheless, she sharpened to get dressed into comfy clothes to greet her visitor as she hadn't seen Brian in a couple of days and was wondering whether or not he was even still alive.

As it turned out, he had simply been extremely busy in the recording studio these past few weeks and had absolutely no time whatsoever for anything that didn't involve himself, Freddie Mercury, John Deacon, Roger Taylor and their respective instruments. "Have you only just got home Bernie? It's late." Indeed, Brian stood correct. When she came through, fully dressed but with soggy hair, the clock read almost 11pm and the sun had set hours ago. The only light penetrating the dingy darkness of her flat was the yellow kitchen lights, which provided no homeliness nor ambience whatsoever.

"Tell me a-fucking-bout it," Bernie slumped down heavily in the seat next to Brian at the round table and rubbed her sore eyes with her palms. She received a look of concern from Brian, whom had always worried about how overworked she was becoming accustomed to.

"Have you eaten at all?" He moved her wet ginger hair away from her face and put the back of his hand to her forehead, taking her temperature, "and you're really warm."

Bernie heaved a sigh and swatted Brian away. "Does this tell you anything, mum?" Holding her hand up, it quivered uncontrollably with the absence of energy to hold her body steady. "I've just showered, I'm gonna be hot Bri." At this, Brian shrugged his shoulders and arose from his seat with a clatter, rummaging through the cupboards for sufficient sustenance for Bernie.

"Do you have anything here that is remotely healthy?" He fumbled around for some cereal, bread or something with carbohydrates at least.

"I haven't worked any hours less than 9 for the past week. No, I don't. But I have beer!" Bernie leapt up and made a beeline for the alcohol rack, but Brian was quicker than her and grabbed her by the middle, seating her back down on the chair. "Oi! I'm almost a fully qualified police officer, don't do that. I could kick your arse if I wasn't aboutta collapse from hunger." It was true. Yes she was considerably smaller than Brian, but she was more muscly and had been thoroughly taught self defence.

A few noisy minutes later and Bernie was presented with a stodgy bowl of soup, comprised of the almost gone-off vegetables left wilting in their nets in the bottom drawer of the tattered cupboards. The stainless steel spoon failed to live up to its name as it had dried water stains on it where Bernie had left the dishes to drain overnight instead of drying them up on countless occasions.

Personally, Bernie thought the soup tasted amazing, yet the texture was putrid — like curdled milk — but she lapped it up appreciatively, revelling in the feeling of being presented food without the hassle of cooking it. Brian could be a pain in the backside sometimes, but he always looked after Bernie and made sure she was keeping herself alive. It was a well-known fact to anybody that was close with her that she prioritised everything and everyone bar herself. And although everybody admired her for it, it served herself no favours.

"Thank you Brian," she smiled gratefully after finishing the meal and took it to the sink, simply rinsing it out with water: washing up properly could wait until tomorrow morning, when she didn't feel like her knees were about to give way due to fatigue.

"Anytime. Literally." He came up behind her and patted her head, getting the loose wet strands caught in his rings. Feigning annoyance, Bernie batted him off half heartedly and headed off to bed, feeling desperate to surrender her body to the sheets, because she wasn't too sure how much longer her legs would support the rest of her body. Not that she weighed much at all, she would be a stick it if wasn't for the subtle outlines of noticeable muscle around her torso. Excruciating police training had its benefits.

When Bernie awoke the next morning, Brian was gone but the draining board was spotless and the little compost bin was empty. Silently thanking Brian for the gazillionth time, she chugged a glass of long-life orange juice, ready to repeat yesterday's fun all over again.

꧁ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's Nᴏᴛᴇ: ꧂
ahhh, welcome to Chapter 1, I really hope you enjoyed it! Please let me know if you would like chapters to be longer/shorter in the future :)
hopefully I will see you in future chapters, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤 m'dears <3

1/9/22