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Insecurities Meet the Parents Drown Your Tears Punch Drunk Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter However, reactions to said events are, of course, anyone's guess and therefor fictional.

See the end of the chapter for more notes. I'm just saying, he needs to- Rog, can you- Tim, please, will you stop strumming passive aggressively, I can't hear myself think-".

Rog, can you give it another da-dun at the start. Even though Freddie wasn't in the band, it was starting to feel like he was very much a part of Smile.

Whenever he could spare the time, he would show up to rehearsals and simultaneously act as their biggest fan and their worst critic. Freddie had a great ear and as bizarre as his input could be at times such as trying to teach Brian how to look cooler holding his guitar or insisting Tim should seduce the audience, whatever that meant , he'd also had some interesting thoughts to share about several of their songs and always encouraged them to keep going until they had really perfected something.

The changing room was littered with clothes. Freddie stood back, one arm around his middle, the other bent at the elbow.

His wrist moved in a slow circle, subconsciously miming a twirl, as he watched Brian in the mirror. Roger was sure that Freddie had piled a quarter of the shop's inventory in here.

It was lucky they knew one of the shop assistants, or he didn't think they would be getting away with it. Honestly, I think it suits you.

At least a little. After all, he thought, Freddie did have good intentions and was genuinely trying to help, even if he was going a little overboard with it.

Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror and his hand flew up to hide his smile as he continued. Now, Tim, please don't be cross.

And forget about that jacket. There's something else I want you to try on We've been at this for an hour, Fred.

But he obliged regardless when Freddie beckoned him over with a gentle 'I know, dear, I know' and one of his sweet, wide-eyed, pleading looks.

As though butter wouldn't melt. Roger was surprised that it still had any effect. Nerves were frayed and tempers were running high this afternoon.

The last week and a half had been nothing short of exhausting for all of them. Rehearsal spaces falling through short-notice, having to transport their instruments back and forth across campus, a last minute gig at Imperial over the weekend which they'd thought was a good idea in terms of a trial run before they took on Revolution, but which actually turned out to be a terrible idea in terms of adding more stress on top of an already stressful week.

In hindsight, they should have just spent that time rehearsing instead. As a result, it hadn't been one of their best performances by a long shot, and had done nothing to boost their confidence ahead of their big night.

And then, there was the incident. Roger could see where Tim was coming from. Really, he could. Tim had not expected - well, nobody had expected - that introducing his friend Freddie from college to the band one night would result in him latching on to them the way he had done.

They all knew Freddie wanted to be in the band. He'd made that clear with all the subtlety of a flying brick to the face. Sometimes, it seemed, there was just no explaining to him that things didn't work the way he wanted them to.

For one, they really weren't looking for another member. The three of them had been playing together for what felt like ages now and Smile worked.

The truth of the matter was, while they did all like Freddie, none of them thought he would make a particularly good fit for their band.

They didn't think he would make such a great fit for anyone's band, if they were completely honest with each other.

Not because he wasn't any good. Freddie was an absolute whiz at the piano. But oftentimes, when he improvised, his playing was more Mozart than McCartney.

And he could certainly hold a tune. But while his voice was pretty strong it was also sort of operatic , Roger thought, for lack of a better word.

None of it was very And so, they went on politely ignoring his insistence to let him join or laughed it off as if it were a joke.

Hoping that, surely, he would eventually understand that it just wasn't going to happen. Roger felt bad, of course. Increasingly so, the more he grew to know and like Freddie.

And like him he did, far too much for his own good. They had both been very busy following that lazy Monday morning the other week, and Roger couldn't decide whether he was sad or relieved that he hadn't been able to spend more than a few minutes alone with Freddie since.

He had a point. Here they were, at Biba, just two days before their gig, trying on a myriad of outfits. All thanks to Freddie, who had finally worn them down with his talk of needing a new look for the band.

His idea was to figure out what they liked, buy the bare minimum, and put the rest together borrowing from their shop at Kensington Market. Roger was the only one who didn't think this was all a bit over the top.

He, too, understood the importance of a strong image and he was interested in fashion. In all honesty, Roger was having fun.

Freddie, of course, was in his element. Roger, dear, you're sorted Before either of them had a chance to protest, he had disappeared. Brian just gaped, eyebrows raised.

Roger lowered his face into the palm of his hand, smiling despite himself. The incident had occurred two thirds into their Saturday night set at Imperial, which had admittedly already suffered from quite a few gaffes at that point.

Freddie - standing in the front row - had cupped his hands together and shouted loudly enough for all to hear that if he were their lead singer, he'd show them how it was done.

Roger had found it so hysterical, in that moment, that he had all but lost the beat. Brian had also been more amused than anything else. It was just such a ridiculous, unexpected and inappropriate thing to do.

It was just so Which was understandable, Roger figured, considering the comment had been mainly directed at him. Tim did appear to get over it the following week, but none of them had any doubts anymore that if he hadn't before, he now had some regrets about ever having introduced Freddie to the rest of the band.

They'd returned about half the clothes to parts of the shop - not necessarily the right parts, mind - when Brian's shop assistant friend stopped them and kindly told them she would take care of the rest.

Roger was quite certain it was because they were making the mess worse, not better, but was grateful either way.

Roger looked around, following her eyes, just in time to see Freddie bounding over to them, looking pleased as punch. Tim's decided to get that waistcoat I had picked out for him after all," he informed them, a notable hint of smugness in his voice.

Best Friends with Benefits Vanilla A Few Days in the Life Secret Desires Spring Awakening Welcome to Truro Family Portrait I'm Not Gay Frustrations and Release Three Words Hazy Memories and Broken Hearts You Make Me Thus, With A Kiss Confessions The Attic Abode Date Night Beneath the Stars Insecurities Meet the Parents Drown Your Tears Punch Drunk Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter It's the Easter holidays and I have two kids under five who aren't in kindergarten this week, so my free time is very limited.

But I've managed to finish this chapter, yay! See the end of the chapter for more notes. The problem wasn't that something had changed, Roger thought, awkwardly juggling the grocery bag and his matches to light a cigarette on his way back to the flat.

The problem was that nothing had changed. The more he thought about it, the more apparent it became to him that he had felt a certain way about Freddie for some time now.

The urge to watch him. The way he laughed, the way he chewed his lips when he was sketching, the way his hands moved so gracefully when he was animated in conversation.

The urge to be close to him, to touch him. A nudge, a hug, an innocent brush of hands. He had felt all of it before. Only until now, he hadn't connected the dots.

And now that he had , he was extremely aware of it, which only served to intensify those feelings. He flicked the half-smoked cigarette away as he turned a corner.

It wasn't doing his throat any favours, and he hadn't really felt like it anyway. The problem was that this was all very easy for him, when it came to girls.

If he liked a girl, he acted on it. Sometimes there was no winning them over, and that was fine, because what did he really have to lose?

If he kissed a girl, he knew where it would lead and he was good at that. Well, he'd not had any complaints, anyway. But this was nothing like that.

He couldn't act on it, for a start. That would be insane. A surefire way to end their friendship, he was certain.

And even if he lost his mind and did decide to act on it, and wasn't flat out turned down, which was more unlikely still, the thought of where it might lead was unfathomable and mildly terrifying to him.

So there was nothing for it but to try and put it all out of his mind, until he got over it. And he would get over it, he assured himself, most likely sooner rather than later.

After all, he'd never been terribly hung up on a girl for too long. How different could this be? When he let himself back into the flat, Freddie was sitting on the sofa cross-legged and barefoot, the plaid around his shoulders and the telephone in his lap.

Wearing Roger's clothes. Freddie looked up and gave him a smile, while talking into the receiver. Roger walked through to the kitchen and deposited the groceries on the counter, listening in on Freddie's conversation without really meaning to while he unpacked the bag.

I have to go now. Bye- Alright, yes, bye. The receiver was dropped back onto the phone and there was a deep, exasperated sigh.

Roger picked up a frying pan and contemplated the contents of the bag, laid out on the counter. Ham and cheese toasties it was.

Roger snorted. Another silence followed, while Roger went about preparing the sandwiches, waiting for one of the inevitable question that he was sure would eventually follow.

I just Roger shrugged. Next time maybe don't go snooping through my things," he huffed. In all honesty, he wasn't really upset.

He didn't think there were any secrets, dirty or otherwise, which he absolutely wouldn't share with most of his close friends.

At a push. Or there hadn't been, anyway, until quite recently. The toasties came out charred and the tea was lukewarm by the time he placed the cups on the coffee table.

Then he returned with the plates, stopping in front of the sofa and waiting for Freddie to sit up and make some space for him. Instead, the older man stretched and looked up, pulling his legs away and replacing them as soon as Roger sat down, right over the top of his lap.

Something about the way he did it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, made it impossible to argue. Such was Freddie's charm, sometimes.

I think it's safe to say I'm missing classes today. How are you feeling? Roger froze mid-bite.

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Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter It's the Easter holidays and I have two kids under five who aren't in kindergarten this week, so my free time is very limited.

But I've managed to finish this chapter, yay! See the end of the chapter for more notes. The problem wasn't that something had changed, Roger thought, awkwardly juggling the grocery bag and his matches to light a cigarette on his way back to the flat.

The problem was that nothing had changed. The more he thought about it, the more apparent it became to him that he had felt a certain way about Freddie for some time now.

The urge to watch him. The way he laughed, the way he chewed his lips when he was sketching, the way his hands moved so gracefully when he was animated in conversation.

The urge to be close to him, to touch him. A nudge, a hug, an innocent brush of hands. He had felt all of it before. Only until now, he hadn't connected the dots.

And now that he had , he was extremely aware of it, which only served to intensify those feelings.

He flicked the half-smoked cigarette away as he turned a corner. It wasn't doing his throat any favours, and he hadn't really felt like it anyway.

The problem was that this was all very easy for him, when it came to girls. If he liked a girl, he acted on it. Sometimes there was no winning them over, and that was fine, because what did he really have to lose?

If he kissed a girl, he knew where it would lead and he was good at that. Well, he'd not had any complaints, anyway. But this was nothing like that.

He couldn't act on it, for a start. That would be insane. A surefire way to end their friendship, he was certain.

And even if he lost his mind and did decide to act on it, and wasn't flat out turned down, which was more unlikely still, the thought of where it might lead was unfathomable and mildly terrifying to him.

So there was nothing for it but to try and put it all out of his mind, until he got over it. And he would get over it, he assured himself, most likely sooner rather than later.

After all, he'd never been terribly hung up on a girl for too long. How different could this be? When he let himself back into the flat, Freddie was sitting on the sofa cross-legged and barefoot, the plaid around his shoulders and the telephone in his lap.

Wearing Roger's clothes. Freddie looked up and gave him a smile, while talking into the receiver. Roger walked through to the kitchen and deposited the groceries on the counter, listening in on Freddie's conversation without really meaning to while he unpacked the bag.

I have to go now. Bye- Alright, yes, bye. The receiver was dropped back onto the phone and there was a deep, exasperated sigh.

Roger picked up a frying pan and contemplated the contents of the bag, laid out on the counter. Ham and cheese toasties it was.

Roger snorted. Another silence followed, while Roger went about preparing the sandwiches, waiting for one of the inevitable question that he was sure would eventually follow.

I just Roger shrugged. Next time maybe don't go snooping through my things," he huffed. In all honesty, he wasn't really upset.

He didn't think there were any secrets, dirty or otherwise, which he absolutely wouldn't share with most of his close friends. At a push. Or there hadn't been, anyway, until quite recently.

The toasties came out charred and the tea was lukewarm by the time he placed the cups on the coffee table. Then he returned with the plates, stopping in front of the sofa and waiting for Freddie to sit up and make some space for him.

Instead, the older man stretched and looked up, pulling his legs away and replacing them as soon as Roger sat down, right over the top of his lap.

Something about the way he did it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, made it impossible to argue.

Such was Freddie's charm, sometimes. I think it's safe to say I'm missing classes today. How are you feeling?

Roger froze mid-bite. He had all but forgotten the lie he had told Freddie two days ago. I called in sick before you woke up, they said it was fine.

Home Romance Billionaire Vampires Other. Should he be the one? She let that thought swirl, but not before she amended it to: for sex, anyway.

But sex ruined friendships. It was a ubiquitous fact. Somehow they worked past it in movies, but in real life it left friends enemies. Sure, she loved Alec and he loved her, but not like that.

Never like that. Alec was snapping his fingers. How long had she been standing there? Usually a king bed would have been fine, but nothing was usual anymore.

She hated that the number of beds was even an issue. There was a reason people always said sex ruined friendships.

It had to be true, if almost-sex made things this awkward. He stood up straighter, faced the desk. Thick Brasil - Lesbian Slave - Face. Lesbian Facesitting Smothering.

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