Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 60

"I saw you staring into space with this glassy look in your eyes, Rog pointed it out to me," Brian added, face still etched with worry. "What on earth were you thinking about?"

Not wanting to explain it all to a room full of six men she didn't feel comfortable reciting her anxieties to, she just recalled as much as she could inside her head and said "London", which Brian understood immediately.

"It's okay, you're safe here," sitting upright again, Brian sat on the floor beside her and held her whilst she regained control of her senses. Roger handed her her glasses and she pushed them lazily onto her face, missing her right ear the first time. Everybody looked on, confused as to what Brian meant. "Can you give us a minute, please?"

Everybody grumbled something along the lines of "yeah, of course," and ambled out of the studio, wanting some fresh air and a cigarette anyway.

Once they were all safely out of earshot and the door was closed, Brian addressed Bernie properly. "Bernie? What was all that about? Here, have some water," he picked up a glass of water from the side and handed it to her. She took it in both hands and drank cautiously, the fresh cold water sending waves of alertness throughout her body. "Come on, let's get you on the sofa." Brian tried to bring Bernie to her feet, but her knees buckled under her own weight, so he had to half carry, half drag her onto the yellow sofa at the back of the room.

"I'm fine..." she tried to argue, but Brian's voice overrode hers.

"Don't give me that shit, Bernie. What. Is. Going. On?" Very rarely, Brian used his stern, projected voice and then was one of those times. It halted Bernie in her tracks and she couldn't ignore things any longer.

"I was thinking about how painful living in my flat is and I guess one thing led to another..."

"No, Bernadette. You don't just faint from thinking." He held her face in his hands and asked firmly into her eyes: "tell me what's wrong. Please."

Of course she couldn't hide things from Brian, so she just came out with it. "I-I think maybe it's because I skipped breakfast this morning... and tea last night, and maybe dinner too."

"Oh, Bernie." Brian could have cried for her. He knew things weren't great in her world, but he didn't know how bad things had gotten. "You need to look after yourself." At this point, he had her scooped into his arms, more for his sake than hers as she wasn't too fussed about being hugged at that time. But Brian wanted to have her close to him, letting her know that he was there and she was safe.

"I, I can't." She confessed, her voice jolting with the truthfulness of her words that had been burrowed deep, deep down for months on end. "Too many other things keep getting in the way. It's not that I can't eat, it's that I can't remember to eat. My head is too full." 

"Look, when we get home, I don't know how we'll do it, but we'll sort something out so you don't have to go back to that bloody flat, okay?"

Hearing those words was like medicine to Bernie. The relief that flooded her was almost bone-breaking and gratitude caused a tear of relief to escape from the corner of her eye. "Are you serious?"

"Of course. You're not living next to Holden a day longer." Bernie sniffed loudly and went to shower Brian with thank you's, but instead her eyelids drooped and she almost fell back to sleep, but he stopped her just before she managed to nod off. "Oh, no you don't. You're eating first, then you can sleep, come on."

An hour later and Bernie was on her feet again, standing next to Freddie as he sat at a chair and fiddled around with the buttons whilst Roger, John and Brian recorded something instrumental. "Are you alright, dear?" He craned his neck round and put his hand reassuringly on her forearm.

"Yes, Freddie. Please, the last thing I want you lot to be doing is worrying about me. Leave that to Brian," she added with a cheeky smile.

"As your family, it's our duty to care for you, darling. Please at least sit down so you don't feel lightheaded. Here, have my water, I haven't touched it," at this, his eyes twinkled and flickered only for a second to his mug sitting on the side. Bernie cottoned on and followed his eye, seeing something dark in the mug that looked a little bit stronger than tea. Her heart also twinged with love as she clocked being referred to as 'family'.

"That's not tea, is it?" She ducked and whispered in his ear. The quick motion sent shocks of dizziness to her head and she made swift work of hearing Freddie's response before taking his advice of sitting down.

"No, something a little more spicy, Bernadette." Smiling to herself slightly, she took a seat on the yellow sofa with Freddie's glass of water in hand and instantly she felt more level-headed upon sitting and sipping. Even though she told him not to, Bernie could see Brian peering round to check up on her every few minutes, shortly followed by Roger and then John.

God, she needed a nap. So that's exactly what she went and did. Barely waving goodbye as she left, she traipsed across the yard and up the stairs of the house, kicking her shoes off and curling up on top of her bed sheets with a fluffy blanket over her. It was neither cold nor night time, so Bernie felt it unnecessary to clamber under the duvet cover in her pyjamas. It took merely seconds for her to doze off into a deeper sleep than she intended and when she woke up, she wasn't alone.

Attempting to slowly stretch out, she was met with a lump beside her, restricting her limbs from stretching. "Mmmm," she groaned sleepily, putting her hands out to feel what the lump was. Of course it wouldn't be anybody other than the person she'd been sharing a bed with for five weeks, but in her semi-conscious state she felt she had to check.

"Hi Birdie," Roger whispered loudly, just as she'd waved her arm about and accidentally planted it on his backside. At that moment, it clicked in her brain where her hand was and who's arse it belonged to. So she lingered there, squeezing it before ever so slowly dragging her hand away. "Catch me a break, bloody hell," he chuckled, wishing she hadn't moved her hand away and put it back to her chest, holding the blanket to her chin.

"Morning, Roger."

"Morning? It's eight o'clock!"

"What? In the morning?"

"No, in the evening. You've been asleep for five hours."

"Shit." She sat upright slowly, but was brought back down by Roger, who put his arms around her and held her close to him. Secretly, she was hoping he'd do this and so she settled in to him, never wanting to get up again with his hand stroking her hair like that, arms keeping her warm and the feeling of his chest rise and fall with his breathing as she rested her head against it. Whilst she enjoyed the feeling of his hot, sometimes chapped lips on hers, she also savoured times like this.

25/3/23