Time Waits For No One (A Freddie Mercury Fanfiction)

Blackett Lab

It had been exactly one week since Ibex's performance at the Sink Club, and boy had it been quite a whirlwind since then. You'd spent some of the week up in Liverpool, staying up at the Dovedale Towers until you'd all had to go back home, back to life, school, and other things. It had been a fun few days until about Saturday when Miffer had completely had it. All week since the gig he and the rest of Ibex had been fighting, about nothing in particular, just about this that and the other thing. That Saturday morning he had finally had enough so he and his girl went off and you all hadn't heard from him since. He'd be back, you knew, sometimes he just got rather miffed—hence the loving nickname.

Nothing of too much particular interest happened between now and then though, Freddie as lively as ever. He was absolutely itching to book a new gig and play for even bigger and better crowds. The Sink had filled him with so much joy and enthusiasm, he simply couldn't contain it. Even more than usual he constantly burst into song, had bigger dips and spells in overall hormonal levels, and also grew an overwhelming desire to take the world by storm—his shyness of course often got in the way of this, but maybe that was a good thing.

He'd been acting sweet, rather lovely really, devoting all of his attention to either you, songwriting, or his and Roger's booth in the Kensington Marketplace. Not too much had been selling but he'd had a good time of acting like the perfect little salesman. You'd noticed a clever trend he'd come up with when you'd stop by for a visit. At first when a customer walked by he'd keep himself rather composed and reserved but then ever so slightly lure them in with the power of suggestion. Maybe it was a play on his timid side using it as an advantage or simply just being clever, but it sure did drum up at least a little more business than the usual methods did. Roger of course had been bold and brash about his business; he would be right up front about what was for sale and what he thought you should have. Together they made a great team. Roger would catch their attention, Freddie would entice it, and then before you knew it Rog and Fred had people buying bits and bobs they'd found in an alley dumpster on Oxford street.

One interesting event that did occur this week was a visit from Roger's mother. You'd never met her before, let alone even really remembered looking at any photos of her back when you lived in 2017. She had this fairly intimidating presence about her, Mrs. Winifred Taylor, maybe it was her rather recent divorce. She sure seemed to mention Micheal a lot in casual conversation and his eccentric recklessness. You'd never seen a room full of 20 year old boys and girls look so scared stiff when she came by on Sunday afternoon. She just popped over for a quick cuppa to check up on Roger and with that she was gone, like a sort of will-o'-the-wisp—materializing briefly to try and guide Roger back down the path he was apparently supposed to have gone, and then vanishing without a trace.

Today was finally Tuesday the 16th of September, the day you'd agreed to meet Brian down at Imperial College to talk through more of the whole time travel dilemma. It felt like such a relief to have someone like Brian beginning to help you through all of this, even though Freddie and Roger knew you weren't from here it still was difficult because you felt like talking with them about it never exactly made any headway on making you feel better. Of course Freddie found many ways to make you feel right at home here, but still there was always this sense of longing. Brian, at least from your last meeting, appeared to find a way to make it feel less unknown, more—in the oddest sense, rational.

You awoke shrouded in an attitude of optimism. Freddie had already gotten up, he'd been waking up early all this week since the gig, and as of late has taken a liking to try and feel as though he could be of more use around the flat. One of those things he thought he could be helpful with was attempting to cook...and he absolutely couldn't. Roger had joined him on this little venture and every day since they'd been back they'd tried one new things. Yesterday's culinary adventure was attempting to heat up some beans on the stove, they of course burnt to a crisp at the bottom of the pan—yes pan—and singed the handle of the one wooden spoon you all owned. After you got dressed today, you found them in the kitchen attempting to boil an egg.