Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

30. So... This Is Christmas?

A/N-

*Just a quick little warning before you all begin reading. This could be a tough read for some people, so I advise you to read with caution. It will contain views of sexuality that obviously do not reflect my own, but unfortunately reflect those of the time period.*

It definitely could have even split in two, it's absolutely monstrous in size ahah, but I wanted to keep everything together! With all that said, enjoy!!🤍

F.M
Kensington, England.
December, Christmas Eve.

"So, who are you spending the holidays with this year Freddie."

"I can fuck off if you want." I laughed as I placed a kiss against Mary's cheek. I squeezed her close for a moment, savouring the affection.

"No, that's not what I want, I assumed you'd be in Munich." Mary laughed gently, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't alone."

"If you must know dear, I will be having the Right Honourable Hayes Griffith over." I let myself fall slowly into a suede armchair. "Phoebe is polishing the fine China as we speak."

Mary rolled her eyes, "I love how you act as though you aren't the one with the expensive taste. Art, alcohol, the Tory—"

"— he's not a Tory." I scoffed, "But do you know who is, you'll never guess." Mary didn't even have a chance to open her mouth before I got impatient, "Kenny Everett. Bloody gay as Christmas and he's a Tory."

With that, I began gossiping away without any prompting. Mary of course was quiet and just added a laugh to my absolutely hilarious commentary every now and then. After a while, my voice grew tired, so I trailed after Mary into the kitchen when offered to make us a cup of tea. Mary got me all caught up on the current state of her relationship with 'the artist', Piers Cameron. Poor dear was desperately threatened by me, and who could blame him really?

"I'm surprised that it's just you and Hayes in the flat for Christmas." Mary commented as she heaped two spoons of sugar into my mug of Earl Grey.

I frowned, "What's that?"

Mary gently placed the plain white mug in front of me, "Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"—I'm curious now, just go on dear," I flicked my wrist, "you know I won't be offended."

Mary glanced up at me, almost shy, "You just usually need a whole entourage of people to keep you occupied, even if your partner is there beside you." She touched my arm briefly, "I just think that it's lovely you don't feel that way with Hayes. Seems you've found quality over quantity this time."

It's bloody amazing what you don't notice about yourself until someone slaps you across the face with their observations. What Mary said was completely true, and always resting in the realm between unconscious and preconscious thought in my own mind.  Yes, I often surrounded myself with a number of people, even when I was in a relationship. I rarely enjoyed one on one time with anybody, with Mary being one of the only few exceptions. I just needed constant company, there was no shame in admitting it either. Many people don't enjoy feeling alone, so they find something to dull the sensation: reading, leaving the television on whilst they sleep, all that jazz. I simply turn myself into somewhat of a social butterfly, and that's what helps me. Living in the limelight, there isn't a lot of opportunity to be alone anyway, which is just fine by me.