Body Language. Queen

I'm Not Going.

Freddie's P.O.V.

I didn't rush home. I didn't particularly want to go home but I certainly didn't want to be in the same room as Brian.

I just couldn't fathom the situation.
Since having to leave Rory I've fully accepted that those few years that we were fucking each other and getting up to no good were the best years of my life.

Well, not anymore.

I couldn't believe that all that time I thought myself and Rory were real, even though we were alright with each other having sex with other people, I thought I was his favourite.  I thought we were going to be real one day. I thought I was always the one he came running back to, he was always the one that I turned back to.

But really, Brian was his favourite.
Brian was the one Rory went running to, I was just one of those other people that Rory fucked. He lied to me. They lied to me. For years.

Whilst I was oblivious and Brian was fooling everybody by having this wild love affair with a girl...they were hiding their dirty little secret.

Everybody knew just how much I adored Rory. I talked about him all the time and I was with him all the time.

We acted like a couple in front of everybody. In front of Brian. He must have been raging with jealousy.

But even after all the time that had passed since Rory had no longer been working for us, Brian tried to do the same with Charlie. He tried to make it seem like we were a thing, he tried to make me think I was going to be with him. He was going to let me fuck him. But this time he got busted before anything had been done.

What the fuck is his problem? Does he enjoy watching me get close to people and then ripping them away from me? Does he enjoy watching my heart break? Does he enjoy it when I'm lonely? Or is it that he wants to be in a relationship but doesn't want me to be in one so I'm ready and waiting for when he's ready to give me a go. That's all what's happened here. I've been waiting around like an absolute fool for him whilst he's been having the time of his life.

And now he thinks, just because he hasn't got anyone else on the side, that he'll give it a go with me.

Well he can fuck off.

I hobbled up the steps to the door and let myself into our house, it was not quite 7am yet so no doubt the love birds would still be asleep.

I wandered into the kitchen with intentions of making a cup of tea, but once my eyes laid on the bottle of vodka on the work surface, I grabbed that instead.

This was a real step back. I had promised myself I would no longer turn to the alcohol to make things better. But I didn't give a flying fuck.
I sat at the breakfast bar and cracked open the bottle, taking a few large cups of the liquid.

Maybe I drifted off to sleep or maybe my thoughts were drowning me so much that an hour passed and almost a full bottle of vodka had been consumed before I realised that it was me that had drank the lot.

My head was spinning, I felt a little sick. Being pissed at 8 o'clock in the morning wasn't my intention. It had just intensified my emotions and I felt so much worse than before.

"Freddie?" A little voice spoke up.

My eyes moved to the doorway and a bed headed Roger was staring at me worriedly.

"Morning..." I slurred.

He walked towards me cautiously, "What's happened?" He asked, eyeing up the empty vodka bottle and my hazy eyes, he slowly prized the bottle out of my grasp and moved it away from me. Smart move, I would probably end up smashing it over somebodies head.