Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 65

"YOU FUCKING BASTARD! YOU DID THIS TO ME. WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU TO WARRANT YOU TURNING MY LIFE INTO THE SHIT SHOW IT IS NOW! THIS IS YOUR FAULT AND I HOPE THE REST OF YOUR DAYS ARE AS MISERABLE AS MINE HAVE BEEN SINCE THE DAY YOU STEPPED INTO MY LIFE. You're an absolute waste of time, space, money and a pathetic excuse for a son." Without rehearsing anything, Bernie screeched in Holden's face before he could get a word in edgeways. Breathing heavily she stormed past him, leaving him horrorstricken, she thundered down the stairs. She'd been home a grand total of ten minutes and was already being driven out. If she'd been in the right frame of mind, perhaps she would have noticed the boxes stacked in the living room, labelled "Flo's Stuff."

"Roger. Let me in."

"Birdie? What....? How did you get here-"

Roger was cut off by Bernie breathlessly kissing him full on the mouth, pushing him into his hallway and slamming his door firmly shut behind them with her foot. With her spare arm that wasn't furrowed in his hair, she found the wall and pressed him into it forcefully, making him gasp in shock. Without wasting any time, she yanked his shirt off over his head and wrapped a leg around his waist, beginning to fumble with removing her own shirt but getting distracted by tugging at the waistbands of both of their jeans, still locking lips with Roger. He was shocked by Bernie's sudden, inexplicable forwardness and wasn't sure of what to do.

His hands wrapped around her tightly and he broke off from her searching lips with difficulty, embracing her in a safe hug instead of a kiss. There was something strange about the urgency of her kisses and he was worried as to what was going on. He'd dropped her off home barely thirty minutes ago.

"Birdie. What's going on?" He whispered into her ear, still leaning against the white wall, his shirt off and jeans undone: hers were halfway down her thighs.

"Just...kiss me..." She breathed, trying to continue on, but his arms were too strong and she didn't have the energy to fight him.

"Bernadette. Something's wrong." As much as Roger was waiting for this moment, he didn't want it like this. He knew something was seriously wrong and he wasn't going to take advantage of her whilst she clearly wasn't thinking straight. So, admittedly trepidatiously, he pulled up the zip on his jeans and located his t-shirt, slipping it back onto his slim frame. "Come and have a drink, you can tell me what's wrong." Confused, he took her hand and brought her through to his kitchen, seating her down at his breakfast bar whilst he made a tea and a coffee. Silently, he praised himself for withstanding, for he so could have easily given in to her charm.

Suddenly realising what she'd just done, embarrassment replaced every muscle in her body and she could've oozed on the floor like jelly, right then and there. But not only was she deathly humiliated, she was equally as grateful. She'd basically thrown herself at Roger and, despite his evident teenage-like horniness, he'd still maturely rejected her advances. God, she was really falling for him, but there was no time to think about that in that moment.

What was up with her recently? Four or five months ago she wore confidence like a crown, but now she was reduced to a dazed mess most of the time. Holden had been criminally spiteful and if she had the evidence to prove his abuse, he'd be behind bars. Especially as it'd basically been revealed that he paid Tiffany, his cousin, to sabotage Bernie's agility equipment. He knew what he was doing in so many ways and it frightened Bernie to her very core. If only there was just one more scrap of evidence...

"Here you go, get your laughing gear round that." Roger placed a mug of tea in front of her whilst he leaned on the other side of the counter so they were opposite to one another, a biscuit barrel between them.

"How on earth do you still have biscuits. We haven't been here for six weeks."

"I'm Roger Taylor. My top three things to survive are music, cigarettes, and fucking biscuits. And maybe sex. Oh, and alcohol. And perhaps Brian...." He stared wistfully into space, thinking of all his favourite things.

"Oi," she snapped her fingers in front of his face, "fangirl about Brian later. Look, I'm really sorry. And also thank you for not, you know, having sex with me."

"In all my years of life, I never thought I'd be thanked for not shagging somebody. I'm growing up. Anyway, no, Birdie, there's no need to say sorry. I just want to know what led you to do that. I can help?" He took a biscuit and dunked it in his coffee, letting it sit in mid-air for a moment too long as he gave Bernie a concerned look. The biscuit broke in half and landed with a splash in his drink. "Oh, FUCKING HELL!" He yelled, peering into his ruined coffee. "Bitch." Looking like he was close to tears, he poured it down the drain and slammed the mug on the side, grabbing a biscuit and shovelling it in his mouth in a strop.

A genuine laugh rolled out of Bernie. She forgot how good it felt to actually have him alone as good company. Ten minutes in her flat generally had that effect on her, even when she'd been with the most God-given people for six solid weeks. Maybe God-given was a poor description, as the band and their crew were far from pure, but they were the nicest people Bernie had ever had the pleasure of being friends with.

"Glad someone finds my misery so hilarious," Roger briefly rolled his eyes and retracted his focus back onto Bernie, but he was glad to see her smiling. "Now, what brings you here? Bar pure desire for me, obviously."

"Don't flatter yourself, Taylor." Those words drive him crazy for her.

"It worries me that that's not the first time you've said that."

"Maybe it'll teach you a thing or two." She rolled her eyes playfully and sipped her tea, even though it was still a smidgen too hot to drink just yet. It burned her throat ever so slightly, but she didn't care. The warmth felt nice, like a hug on the inside, too. "When I got in, the phone rang. It was DCI Lind."

"Oh," Roger's voice became very grave.

"The case has been dropped. Tiffany felt bad and openly admitted that Holden, her cousin, found out we were on the same course and bribed her into making sure I fell and got hurt. Why, I have no idea. But there's insufficient evidence, bar Tiffany's word. Not even taking it to court." Gloomily, she broke a biscuit in half for want of something to do that involved not looking at Roger, flinging crumbs onto the countertop. She didn't apologise.

"What BULLSHIT! They can't just do that to you!" Completely outraged, Roger pounded both of his fists onto the countertop, shaking the whole kitchen and alarming Bernie, who lifted her mug off the surface to stop it from being victimised by Roger's rage.

"Yes they can. I've studied this. No evidence means case dropped. If they don't think it's worth investigating."

"But it is!!"

"You'd think," she sipped her drink tiredly, knackered by the injustice. Sometimes she wished she could step out of her shoes and into somebody else's or a brand new pair, perhaps throwing her original ones away. Or even better, burning them.

12/4/23