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There were cameras in the dressing room. Not random cameras of course. No, these belonged to people making a documentary about them. It was all a big boost to their egos to know they as a band had reached a point where film-makers wanted to film them for a documentary.
The camera people were all quiet enough, polite. This certainly wasn’t the sort of project that had a camera shoved in anyone’s face. It was a quaint project, without ulterior motive. That put Freddie’s mind at ease.
They were all pottering around the dressing room as was usual, it was never a particularly private space, even before the cameras. Though they certainly caused a more active and preformative vibe. No one was faking anything, but there did seem to all be in the mood to joke around, Freddie himself included. If he was forcing amusement just a bit more than usual, he could feel it on the others too.
It was a nice energy. No one was in a bad mood, they were all being Friendly and kind. Even John said a handful of things under the watching lens of the camera which was unlike him. John was barely fond of cameras at the best of times, and didn’t speak up in front of them as much as he might in private. Freddie was happy for him.
Roger was being himself, fiddly and constantly moving.
Freddie for the life of him, couldn’t recall exactly why they were discussing maracas, but there likely wasn’t an actual reason they had come up at all. It felt odd to think that Freddie wished they hadn’t discussed them, but he really did.
Roger was mourning the loss of his maracas with added flair for the cameras.
“Great sounding maracas… It took me ages to steal them,” the drummer explained with a twinkle in his eye.
Freddie had found it all quite funny at the time, talking about maracas of all things. He talked about the maracas he was given to throw on nights after that just weren’t as good as Roger's were. It was hardly anything to write home about. Hardly the sort of thing he’d remember the next day.
But then there was Brian.
Freddie could recall exactly what Brian was doing, it hadn’t been a conversation Brian was a part of, he was off to the side. Dressed in yellow, Freddie remembered that vividly, his favourite, and icing his poor, long fingers after playing his guitar for an extended period.
It was normal.
Until it wasn’t.
Brian was hardly a smooth talker, too quiet most times. So it was quite easy to understand why he inserted himself into the conversation without invite, he wasn’t being rude, he was probably just feeling left out. Freddie would usually welcome Brian’s input.
The issue was Brian’s choice of words after he entered the conversation. Seven words, and one of the most out of left field things Brian had said in a long time. Freddie didn’t know how to deal with it.
“You can throw me in the audience.”
Brian had said it lightly, like it was casual. Freddie might have believed it was casual too, if Brian wasn’t giggling.
It wasn’t flirting, but Brian was giggling at everything Freddie was saying. It wasn’t flirting, but he had this giddy quality to his voice. It definitely wasn’t flirting but Brian had this giddy look about his face too.
Freddie didn’t know how to feel about it, it didn’t feel like banter. It felt like flirting, in a weird way. But it wasn’t flirting, was it? it couldn’t be. Brian was a straight man, and even if he wasn’t straight, they were on film.
Freddie had to think of a quick response, the last thing he needed was to seem flustered or confused.
“You don’t rattle as good.”
It felt like the social equivalent to playing the wrong note on a piano in front of a room of people. Just slightly off. But then, surely Freddie could be forgiven for not knowing how to respond to something that seemed like flirting in everything but name.
It didn’t really hit Freddie until later, exactly what that interaction was. It wasn’t flirting, that had already been decided. But whatever it was, other people had witnessed it. Cameras had filmed it.
People had seen.
God.
Freddie knew it wasn’t flirting. But what if someone else didn’t know that? What if someone watched the documentary once it was made, and made up their mind that Brian was Queer? That was far from Freddie’s business, he just hated the idea of someone blaming him for the incident.
The unknown of it all was making it hard to sleep. Freddie tried several times throughout the night just to calm himself. Instead he was cursed to replay the moment in his head, over watching the guitarist giggle and make his very non heterosexual ‘joke’ as if there was something he missed.
He tossed in the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but left wasn’t doing it, right wasn’t either. It left him constantly moving. He would have been a terrible bed partner tonight, but he was ever so thankful to be alone for once. He had tried going out, but found himself to preoccupied to even entertain the beautiful men that approached him. He imagined this was how Brian must feel in one of his moods. Except Freddie’s shadow was less of a black dog, and more of a well… Brian-shaped thing, looming awkwardly behind him and giggling in his ear, when all he wished to do was forget it ever happened. Or at the very least stop fussing over it.
Some men had tried to catch his attention, but none would, not while he was like this.
It wasn’t like he wanted Brian to be flirting with him.
Right?
Freddie stopped his shifting in the bed, he needed stillness now. Yes, of course, he hadn’t wanted Brian to be flirting, obviously. Brian was Brian, Brian was taken, and his friend, and straight, and even if he weren’t, that in no way meant he was interested in Freddie.
It made him feel selfish to even entertain the idea that Brian would ever be interested.