Don't Talk! (Freddie Mercury / Queen)

33. This Kettle is Boiling Over (Freddie)

F.M
Munich, Germany
February 4th

"You must be tired love."

I was shattered, and Hayes' soft spoken words only served to lull me further. I adored the contradictions and contrasts of Hayes' voice, and when my eyes were closed, I could savour them even more. It was raspy and deep but velvety and gentle all at once. I just bloody wish that I could hear it directly in my ear instead of through the sodding phone speaker. I was growing sick of all the excuses he had at the ready to avoid making that a reality.

"Forget me," I murmured, "It's morning here, I really should be getting up. You're the one not sleeping dear. It must be late there."

"It's the only time I'm able to catch you." Hayes chuckled. 

Although he was making an innocent comment, it seemed to rub me up the wrong way. It insinuated that he was the one always making the effort... and it ruffled my feathers because there was some truth in it lately. We hadn't seen each other since our last big blow up in Munich, but we had hastily patched things up on the phone a day or two later. Or we at least pretended that things were fine, I'm just taking a page from Hayes' closed book.

At my silence, Hayes quickly sought to fill up the space, "I did catch a couple of hours sleep the last few days, I'm just wide awake now because I had a kip on the plane."

I slowly sat up, rapidly irritated, "Plane? Where were you?"

"England, I told you that—"

"So you'll go to England, but you won't fly over here?" Oh fuck off Freddie, leave him alone.

"I told you the situation with my parents, it was just one visit." Hayes sighed, and he sounded so unbearably weary. "It won't be happening again."

Hayes had told me the basics of what happened with his family on Christmas Eve. He didn't go into much detail (I suspected he physically couldn't), but from what he told me, it was fucking awful. I knew that we had been caught out, that there was photographic evidence of us, and that it was now thankfully destroyed. Despite of all of what his family put him through that day... he attempted to defend them. Which I couldn't fucking stand.

His mother's reaction? Oh she's always been a hypochondriac, and she was upset that she may not get any grandchildren. His brother? He's always been that way, it's fine. His father? His absolutely awful father? I think he's finally making an effort with me now. I know it's not ideal, but he's been phoning me a lot lately. They all just need to get used to it and it'll be fine.

Hayes was so fucking traumatised by that lot, he thought that this was all okay because at least they were showing him some interest. Now, it's quite obvious that deep down Hayes knew that this wasn't how he should be treated, but he's buried himself in deep denial to save face. I know it's his way of coping, but it's making things quite difficult between us.

I want to help him, but he refuses to let me. The more I push, the more he shirks away. The distance is bloody awful right now.

Hayes didn't want to be seen with me at all, and I knew why... but he was being over cautious at this point. Fair enough, the English press were fuckers, but we were safe in New York and Munich. Part of me felt as though he just didn't want to see me, a rather large part of me actually. Hearing that he had been to England only seemed to prove my paranoid thoughts right.

"I saw Julian," Hayes attempted to change the subject, "I had been meaning to for a while..."

Lovely. I'm sure Julian was more fucking useful than me. He must be when you have no problem spending time with him but won't come to Munich.