Faking It • Queen FanFiction

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 67

"We need to talk about something." Bernie addressed Flo that evening at dinner, after telling her everything about Rockfield, including her romance with Roger. Every last detail. And apparently, whilst Bernie was gone, Holden had been acting as if nobody occupied Flat 37, the flat they rented. This lifted a huge weight off of her shoulders, knowing that she could safely fly the nest without any risk of Flo being Holden's next unwitting victim.

"Yes. I quite think we do, Bernie," Flo replied in an equally as serious tone as Bernie was speaking in. Bernie was the one supposed to break some important news, never mind Flo adding something else sombre to the mix.

"Oh, well...you start..." Bernie said airily, wanting to get Flo's potentially bad news out of the way first.

"Bernie, I don't know how to tell you this and I really, really wanted to but I couldn't tell you over the phone and I-" Flo's monologue worried Bernie. She'd always been scatty and a little bit of a word-vomiter, but she'd never really rambled this much over anything.

"Flo, please, just tell me."

"I've moved out."

The only noise was the sounds of outside. Nothing inside the flat dared creek, churn, grind or whistle. Bernie wasn't sure what came first: relief, panic or hurt. They were both getting rid of Flat 37, moving forwards and leaving that part of their lives behind them, but how could Flo just move out? All she had to do was ring Bernie up whilst she was away, or maybe even delay the move by a week or so until she was home. Her heart dropped to her knees. Now the boxes made sense. Bernie had seen them in the living room earlier that day but was much too tired to regard them as anything more than old boxes from when they moved in to Flat 37. Why was it that there was a quiet patch and then all of a sudden everything happened at once? Arriving home, finding out her police case had been dropped, crashing with Roger and now this? What was next?

"Bernie, please say something..." Flo pleaded into her sister's glassy eyes.

"I need some air." She said blankly, staring at the wall, fork hovering in mid-air. After the surge of sudden emotion, there was nothing in her head but emptiness. Her sister had moved out without telling her, leaving her alone with Holden just next door.

"Okay, yeah, let me open a window-" jumping up, Flo rushed to ventilate the flat for Bernie to breathe. It was as if somebody had hoovered all of the oxygen out of the room and there was none left to fill her lungs.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR AIR!" Bernie suddenly leapt up and yelled at the top of her lungs; loud enough for Holden to hear next door. But she was past caring. Who could she rely on? Where was home? It wasn't at Rockfield, it wouldn't be at Roger's as his house was just a temporary roof over her head, and it certainly wasn't at Flat 37. It never had and never would be, especially with Flo leaving with barely a word. "Florence. I'm over the moon for you and June, but how could you do this to me?"

"Bernie, I-"

"No, I'm sorry, but no excuse you can provide me with will be good enough. You didn't call, you didn't wait, you just left and let me be none the wiser." Tears were pooling in the corners of her eyes now and Bernie struggled to keep her voice level. "You're more like Mum and Pa than I thought."

Both sisters were too stunned to breathe another word. The air in the flat hung thickly despite the ventilation from the open window. Sounds of the street below filled the room, the distant hum drowning out Bernie's anguish.

"You left too, you know." Flo crossed her arms and indignantly shifted her weight to one hip, just as Bernie did.

"For six weeks! That was planned! I made sure you had everything you needed before I left, even though it was so short notice. Even before now you left me hanging for days on end. And for what?" The argument Flo had made only shifted Bernie's despair to anger, which she struggled to feel towards her own sister, but it had been a long time coming. "You know what, I'm happy for you. Have a nice life with June. Maybe oneday you'll get a nice fluffy cat or something. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed, it's been an exceptionally long day and I'm fed the fuck up, so could you please leave my flat so I can get some sleep." There was no fighting it. Bernie's question was an order and Flo knew she'd fucked up, badly.

There was nothing else Flo could say to support herself and all she could do was what she had been told. Walk out the door. And hope time could heal the wounds she'd made in her relationship with her sister.

When Bernie was absolutely certain that Flo had left and the door was definitely locked with the catch on, she went to her room and clicked the door shut. There was nobody physically in the flat to block out but her own distress, which seemed to have drifted in behind her regardless.

Sitting on the edge of her double bed pressed into the corner of the room, she put her head in her hands and did something she hadn't allowed herself to do for a very long time. She cried. The dam was broken and the tears poured out silently. Her body jolted harshly as the sobs heaved out of her, occasionally bringing a grief-laden sound with them. How had it gotten to this? How? She was now alone and jobless in a lifeless flat, with a predator residing next door and nobody to fall back on. Well, technically there was Brian, but she doubted he'd want her at his doorstep after spending six solid weeks with her nonstop.

Even though her feet were firmly on the ground, Bernie felt like she was floating, high above society, entering her own dystopia resting on top of the clouds - misery made especially for her. And this was it. This was her man-made misery high in the sky. If there was rock bottom, then this was it. Never in her life had Bernie felt so lost, so lonely, so hopeless.

So betrayed. Her own sister.

꧁ Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's Nᴏᴛᴇ: ꧂
𝐻𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑛 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟, 𝐼 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑙𝑦. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑚𝑤𝑎ℎ!

20/4/23