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39hystericalqueens · 4 years

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It’s A Hard Life (Brian May x Reader) Chapter 2

This series was written alongside a companion playlist. Each song on the playlist is related to a certain scene or moment within the story and while this fic can 100% be read without the playlist, it adds so much to the story to listen along as you read. Throughout this series, you will see numbers in parentheses within the text. Each number corresponds to a track on the playlist. For example, if you saw: (1), this would mean play the first track on the playlist before continuing on reading. Some of the songs serve to set the mood, some correspond with a song that is actually playing in the story, and some tell part of the story better than I can and so they help to drive the plot. I will say again that you don’t need the playlist to understand and enjoy this fic but I strongly recommend at least checking it out.

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Warnings: Some mild cursing

A/N: Wow what a long break I took from posting any sort of update to this fic. I have been writing a lot in this time and have a decent portion of this story complete to post. I know hardly anyone (if even that) follows this fic especially now that I basically abandoned it for a little while there, but hopefully someone might find it interesting and enjoyable to read. Either way, please enjoy chapter 2!

Word Count: 4.8k

October 1969

The next morning you awoke with a smile on your face. You weren’t quite sure why until the memories of the night before started coming back to you. Dancing to great music, running into Roger again, and that mystery of a guitarist: Brian. He was just as intriguing this morning as he was last night. A part of you wished you had asked Roger or Tim where he was, but you supposed it was too late now, and as you pulled yourself out of bed and into the world you tried to push the thought of him out of your mind.

After a full day of classes, which, as per usual, were long and exhausting, you found yourself at work. On Wednesdays you worked from 6 until closing at midnight. Today you had decided to actually be productive and while you waited for another customer to come through the door you worked on your composition assignment. You had two weeks to write the first movement of a sonata in the correct form, but as much as you tried, you just couldn’t get the development to sound the way you wanted it to. You sat focused behind the counter, lost in the world of themes and dominant keys, when the bell over the door jingled. You looked up and to your complete surprise saw Brian standing there. He looked almost exactly as he had the night before. Same untamed hair, same look of concentration, and when he saw you at the desk, he flashed the same small smile as last night.

“Welcome to Selmer’s,” you started your preprogrammed greeting, but then decided to take a risk, “I suppose you’ll be needing some new guitar strings?”

As Brian looked up to see who had just spoken, he was met with the sight of what he thought was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. You sat perched up on the stool behind the counter, pieces of staff paper spread around you, and a pencil in your hand, and even though he knew he was staring he just couldn’t look away. That was, until he realized what you had just said to him.

“Yeah I-- wait, how did you know that?” Brian said, utterly confused.

His speaking voice was just as light and sweet as his singing voice.

“Lucky guess?”

He chuckled, accepting your answer, but not fully certain that he believed you.

“Something tells me that you don’t use Fender strings,” you continued, “so, what can I get for you?”

“Wow you’re good, uh I use RotoSound 8 gauges.”

“A fine choice. I don’t play guitar myself but I’ve heard from a lot of my customers that they give you a really nice sound. A lot of people tell me that they find Fender strings too abrasive.”

When you mentioned this you saw him raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Wow that’s really funny that you would mention that,” he said, “Last night I was just telling the drummer in the band I’m in that the Fender strings make my sound real abrasive.”

“Lemme guess: you broke some of your strings, didn’t have any extras on hand, sent your drummer to go and get some while you finished setting up, he brought you the wrong ones, you played a show with an abrasive sounding guitar, and now you’re here buying the right strings.”

When you finished talking you couldn’t help but laugh at the look of absolute shock and disbelief that was across Brian’s face. He truly didn’t know what to say.

“How on earth did you know all of that?”

You smiled, finally deciding to let him off the hook.

“Your drummer Roger came running in here yesterday right before closing looking for your guitar strings, only he had no idea which strings to buy so I gave him your basic 12 gauges...”

Brian shook his head in disbelief.

“I told him specifically which strings to buy, I even went so far as to write it down but he insisted that he knew what he was doing. I’m never letting him buy gear for me again.”

“If it makes you feel better he did seem to be quite distraught about it when he came in. Nearly knocked down my door rushing inside.”

“Well I suppose that does make it slightly better, but you still haven’t told me how you knew I was upset about the strings.”

“Right, forgot about that. So my friend Freddie has been following this band called Smile around for quite some time,”

At the mention of the band’s name Brian smiled as he started to piece the story together.

“And he’s been on me for ages to come out to one of their shows, so last night I finally did, and as I get there and see the band walk onstage, who would be sitting behind the drum kit but Roger. I went round back after the show was over with Fred to see Roger and Tim but you weren’t there.”

“I was off taking those awful strings off of my guitar,” he said, “but now I wish I had been there to meet you.”

As he said that you felt your heart flutter in your chest once again.

“Me too, but I’m glad I’ve met you now.”

“Will I be seeing you again?”

“Yeah I hope so,” you said, giving him a small smile that he returned even more so. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Once again, he smiled. “I’m Brian.”

And with that, you handed him the package of strings, letting your hands linger for a second as they brushed against his, before giving him one last grin as he walked out the door.

(4)

_____

It had been one week since your run-in with the guitarist and all you seemed to be able to think about was when you would be able to see him again. You tried not to let it distract you from your life too much, but as you and Freddie walked home after classes that afternoon it proved to be difficult.

“...and then I said to Tim-- Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

You broke yourself out of the haze of your unintentional daydream.

“Yes! Sorry Fred, I just zoned out there for a moment.”

“Well bring yourself back because I’m about to tell the best part of the story. So I was saying to Tim that maybe we should just give up on trying to find a flat for all of us because there is literally nothing available in our area and he agreed with me. So just when we were about to call Brian and Roger and tell them, we get a call from Roger saying that he found us a place to live!”

“That’s great!” You said, “where is the place?”

“That’s the best part, it’s right down the street from Ealing where we rent out the practice rooms which means it’s right down the street from your place. And don’t worry, we won’t be at your door bothering you all day and stealing your food.”

You laugh slightly.

“Yes you will.”

“You’re right we probably will, but we’ll be pleasant company I assure you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Excellent! We’re set to move in this weekend and we’d love to have the help.”

“Sure thing,” you said, “just tell me what time to be there.”

_____

Move in day came bright and early on Saturday morning. You were up at 5 to take a cab over to Freddie’s flat on the other side of the neighborhood. When you arrived you found that he had already been up for 2 hours, finishing off last minute packing and piling boxes and a few pieces of furniture into the small truck he had rented.

“Don’t you think the truck might have been a little overkill?” you said, looking at its mostly empty interior, “I mean you don’t exactly have that much stuff to bring.”

“Oh trust me darling, I know. The truck isn’t just for me, we’re stopping by Roger’s place to load his things in here as well. Then Tim and Brian are meeting us there.”

You nodded in understanding.

“So, what can I do to help?”

“If you can grab the last few boxes from upstairs and bring them down here that would be great. And then come and help me lift this chair into the truck.” He said, gesturing at a very old and worn looking armchair sitting on the curb.

“Roger that,” you said, and headed up the stairs.

A half hour later the two of you had successfully loaded all of Freddie’s things into the truck and were driving away down to Roger’s place.

Roger lived another several blocks away, even farther away from you than Freddie, in a tiny one room flat on the top floor of the building. He had not yet started the process of luging his boxes down the five flights of stairs that he had so graciously forgotten to mention when he asked Freddie for help the other day.

“Roger...I’m...going...to kill...you,” you pant as you make your fourth trip down the stairs, two boxes balanced in your arms.

“C’mon,” he said, “if I had told you about the stairs you would never have agreed to come and help me.”

“And you’d have been right,” interjected Freddie who was standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the wall, and fanning his face profusely. “Is that the last of it?”

“Thankfully yes,” you said, as you made your way out to the truck and hoisted the boxes inside. Roger followed suit, and finally you were able to pull the door down.

“Wonderful!” said Freddie, “next stop: our new home!”

It was nearly 3 o’clock when you three pulled up in front of the boy’s new building. Brian and Tim were sitting outside on the steps waiting for you.

“Well it’s about damn time,” said Tim, “you guys were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“We were a bit, delayed,” you said, looking directly at Roger. Brian gave a small snort under his breath.

“Oh come on, you guys are so dramatic. So we’re a little late, it’s not like we’re meeting the Queen or anything.”

You and Freddie collectively rolled your eyes.

“Now let’s hurry up and unpack.”

Compared to the amount of effort it had taken you to pack up Freddie and Roger’s flats, unpacking them was a breeze. Their new building had an elevator and their flat was right next door.

“Wow you guys, this is a really nice place,” you said as you walked through the door, “how did you find this place again, Roger?”

“Funny story really, I was talking to this broad at a coffee shop the other day and I guess I mentioned how my mates and I were looking for a new place to live that was central in the city. Well it turns out that her grandmother is moving to Manchester and has been trying to sell her flat for ages.”

“Ages? A place like this is every Londoner’s dream, why couldn’t she sell it?”

“Well she wasn't exactly going about it in the most conventional way. They had to sit her down and explain that walking down the street and asking people if they would like to buy your flat isn’t the most effective or appreciated form of advertisement.”

“Yeah not appreciated unless you’re four broke blokes like us in which case she was so desperate to sell it we paid next to nothing for it,” said Tim, setting down a large box. “I think this is almost all of it, there’s just one box left in the truck.

“I’ll go and get it,” said Brian, standing up.

“It’s pretty heavy, you’ll need two people to lift it,” said Tim.

“I’ll go with you,” you said quickly, making your way to the door and holding it open for him. As you walked into the hallway you caught Freddie looking at you with a sly look across his face.

There was a slightly awkward silence as you two walked down the stairs. Finally you spoke up.

“So uh, how’ve you been since I saw you at the store?”

“Oh um I’ve been alright. I’ve had a lot of work for school and all so I’ve been pretty focused on that. I think Roger already told you that I’m studying astrophysics, but I don’t want to bore you talking about it.”

“No I’d love to hear about it! What are you working on right now?”

“Well,” he said, his face lighting up, “the main thing that’s been eating up all my time is this paper we were assigned on the Hertzsprung-Russell Diagram. Basically it’s a scatter plot of stars that shows the relationship between the stars’ luminosity or brightness and its temperature. We’re meant to cover its history and creation, the functions of the diagram, and its importance in the advancement of the field. It’s an insane amount of information to cover and I’ve only got two weeks to write it.”

“That sounds really interesting,” you say, “I’m not usually one for maths and science but from the way you talk about it I’m actually interested to hear more about it.”

“You’re welcome to read my paper when it’s done if you’d like.”

“I might just take you up on that offer,” you said, smiling.

“So that’s what I’ve been up to,” he said, “what about you? You’re over at Ealing studying music, right?”

“Yep, working hard to start my career as a starving artist,” you said sarcastically. “Jokes aside though I have been quite busy as well. I’ve got a recital coming up next week so I’ve been locked in a practice room all this week.”

“Wow, that sounds really stressful.”

“It’s not too bad, this one just counts for a completion grade. The real stressors are the midterm and final recitals. Those are killer.”

“Well stressful or not I’m sure you’ll do amazing. I would love to hear you play sometime,” he added. He had been wanting to hear you play ever since Freddie had told him you played the flute, but he hoped he wasn’t being too pushy.

“Would you like to come to the recital?” you said, “it’s this Tuesday at 2.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose or anything you know since we sort of just met each other.”

“Nonsense, I would love it if you came! In fact, I want you to. It would be so nice to have someone cheering me on in the audience. Freddie and Tim usually have classes that conflict so I’m normally playing to a crowd of strangers.”

“Well I’ll be there right in the front row, and I’ll clap louder than anyone else in the room,” he said, and you couldn’t help but blush.

“You know I just remembered that we came down here for a reason,” you said, looking towards the truck where the last box was still sitting.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, “we should probably get that upstairs before they start to worry that we’ve been hit by a car or something.”

Together the two of you lifted the box up and out of the truck and into the building. Tim hadn’t been lying when he said the box was heavy. Even with the two of you, it was quite the struggle to carry it up to the flat.

“Jesus Christ, what’s in here, a load of rocks?” you said as the elevator reached their floor.

“I think it might be all our amps and sound stuff. You can tell that Roger packed this box because any sane person would have split them up between several boxes to keep the weight down.”

At last you made it into the flat, ridiculously heavy box and all.

“I wasn’t expecting to get that much of a workout in today,” you said, “next time make it a little heavier why don’t you.”

Ignoring your comment, Freddie said, “Well you two were gone a long time weren’t you,” he eyed you suspiciously.

“Yeah it took a lot of effort to carry that box,” you answer, “I need to go and get some water or something.”

You headed into the kitchen and Freddie followed behind you, closing the door.

“Alright spill it, it did not take you twenty minutes to carry a box from the truck into an elevator,” he said.

“I mean we talked for a little bit while we were down there, but I don’t see why-”

“Let’s skip over the part where you try and dance around the facts. You so obviously have a thing for Brian!”

At his comment you felt your stomach drop slightly.

“What?! No I don’t!”

“Oh come on Lucy, I wasn’t born yesterday. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at him, hanging on to his every word, and you volunteered to go with him to get that box so quickly I don’t think he had even finished his sentence.”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you said, “can’t I just like being around someone?”

“Of course you can, but that’s not what’s going on here. You like him, it’s so obvious.”

“You’re way off, Fred.”

As he gave you an exasperated look you felt some level of panic rise in you.

“If I liked Brian then why do I have a date set for this weekend? Hm?”

You’re not sure why you said it. It was a complete lie, you hadn’t been on a date in months nor did you have any interest in going on one now, but you had already committed to this story and if Fred found out you were bluffing you would never hear the end of it.

“Really?” said Freddie, skepticism in his voice, “you have a date?”

“Yep, Saturday night.”

“With who?”

Shit.

“Uh just some guy from my composition class,” then you added hastily, “you don’t know him.”

“No of course I don’t,” said Freddie, “but I’d love to meet him! Why don’t you have him pick you up at your flat so I can be there to say hello?”

You could tell that he saw right through you, but you were too far down this road to back out.

“Yeah um, ok sure. I’ll let him know.”

“Excellent!”

And with that Freddie left the kitchen, leaving you to realize what you had just gotten yourself into.

Well shit, now I’ve got to find a date. Great. Who the hell am I supposed to even ask?

______

The next day you ended up asking out a guy named Trey who sat behind you in composition class. He seemed really excited which made you feel even worse about the whole thing as you knew you would have to let him down after the one date. Saturday arrived all too soon and at a quarter to seven Freddie showed up at your door.

“Alright so where is this lad you have so graciously charmed?” he said, a devilish smile on his face.

“He should be here any minute.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. You opened it and there stood Trey, shifting nervously on his feet with a meek smile on his face. You could already tell that this was going to be painful. Before you could say anything, Freddie showed up right behind you to look at Trey.

“Hello darling, I’m Freddie, Y/N’s friend, I was just stopping by to see her off before your big date! I’ve got to say, when Y/N told me she had a date this weekend I didn’t believe her because, well, she’s not usually the type, but you two look oh so cute together, I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of you in the future!”

You could have killed him. You knew exactly what he was doing, and he had won, so now you were stuck still having to go on this date with the knowledge that Freddie would be waiting at your home to confront you when you got back.

“Don’t mind him, Trey,” you said, “Freddie can get a little over-invested in my life sometimes. Shall we?”

And with that the two of you walked out the door, but not before you looked over your shoulder to shoot Freddie a death glare to which he responded with a look of mock confusion.

To say the date was awkward would have been an understatement. It was clear that Trey didn’t pick up on how uncomfortable you were, or if he did, he didn’t mention it. You somehow stumbled your way through dinner and then a movie. By the end of the night though, you had just about reached the end of your rope as on the cab ride back to your flat he kept going on and on about how much he loved the movie you went to see.

“And I just thought the ending was so brilliant,” he said, “the way they brought the two story lines together, I didn’t even see that coming!”

“Yeah it was good,” you said, half-heartedly. The cab pulled up to the curb. “Well, this is me.”

“Let me walk you up, then we can say a proper goodbye,” he said.

“Alright,” you said.

As expected, Freddie was there waiting for you when you got back. He sat on your sofa, sipping on a glass of wine, as you and Trey said your goodbyes.

“I had a really nice time tonight, Y/N,” he said, “I’d love to do it again soon.”

“Um, yeah maybe,” you said, mentally kicking yourself as the words came out of your mouth. Why couldn’t you just say no? There was a moment of silence and then he leaned in to give you an awkward kiss on the cheek before saying one last goodnight.

Once he was gone you walked around to the sofa and collapsed into it, eyes closed.

“Well,” said Freddie, “that really was something. I think you and this Trey character could have a real future together. You seem to get along swimmingly and not to mention he’s quite handsome.”

“Alright! Alright Fred, you win! I may have a bit of a crush on Brian.”

______

It was Tuesday morning, the morning of your recital, and Brian found himself wandering through the halls of the Ealing music school, looking for the recital hall. As he rounded what he swore was the same corner he passed ten minutes ago he saw that a group of students had shown up and were talking rather loudly. He was about to turn around and continue his search when he heard something that grabbed his attention.

“So you know Y/N, the girl who sits behind me in composition, well she asked me out on Saturday to the movies.”

“Oh dude no way!”

“Yeah and it was completely out of the blue. I mean I never would have guessed that she had a thing for me, but we had a great time. She said she would want to go out again.”

Brian, who had been standing behind the corner, felt his heart drop when he heard this. He hadn’t really told anyone, but from the moment he met you he had been wanting to ask you out, he just hadn’t figured out how. He thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, both inside and out, and wanted nothing more than to be around you all the time. He was rather shy by nature and typically didn’t take a chance if he wasn’t entirely certain of the outcome, but after talking with you on moving day he had thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way. He knew of course that he had no right to be upset, you could obviously date whoever you wanted, but he couldn’t help but feel crestfallen knowing that you weren’t going to be anything more than friends.

(5)

Checking his watch, Brian realized that it was ten minutes before your recital was set to start and he still had no idea where he was going. Realizing that it was his only option, he turned to the group of guys.

“Hi, I’m looking for the recital hall? Do you happen to know where that is?”

The boy who had been talking about his date with Y/N turned around to look at Brian.

“Yeah mate it’s just around that corner there and then take a left and it’ll be the set of double doors on your right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Do you go here?”

There was no contempt in his voice but at his question Brian couldn’t help but feel as though he was accusing him of something.

“No,” he said apprehensively, “I’m actually here to see a friend perform.”

“Who do you know?”

“Um, Y/N... Y/N Y/L/N? Do you know her?” He grimaced internally at his question, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah, she’s in my composition class. She’s real sweet, incredibly talented too.”

“Yeah I know,” said Brian, a little too quickly, “thanks for the directions.”

“Anytime,” he said, “I’m Trey by the way.”

“Brian.”

“Nice to meet you, Brian. And hey, wish Y/N good luck from me. I’ve got a class in ten minutes so I can’t go and see her play.”

“Yeah sure thing,” said Brian monotonously, as he turned to walk back down the hallway.

As much as Brian wanted to hate Trey, he knew he really couldn’t. He seemed nice enough, cared enough about Y/N’s life to know that he was missing her performance, and he had given him accurate directions. Brian found his way to the recital hall in no time, picking himself out a seat right in the front row. The turnout was what you might expect from a midday, midweek, student recital. The back of the hall was filled with students kicked back in their seats and glancing lazily at the clock every other minute, mostly likely forced to attend as part of their grade. The middle was quite sparsely populated with what looked like a few family members and friends scattered throughout, and the front was almost completely empty with the exception of four rather stern-looking people who Brian assumed were Y/N’s professors, and of course now him. He hadn’t been to see a classical performance in ages. His mother used to take him all the time to go and see the London Symphony when he was younger, but after starting secondary school and then uni and devoting all his time to his studies and his guitar he had stopped going. Now, sitting in the icebox of a theatre, he couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong.

A few minutes later, the performance began. It was a woodwind only recital so Brian sat through two clarinets, a saxophone, three oboes, and a bassoon, before it was your turn. When you finally walked onstage, Brian kept his promise and applauded so loudly that one of the professors turned to see where it was coming from. He didn’t care though, he couldn’t wait to hear you play. As you made your way over to the music stand you flashed Brian a smile, and he felt as though he was walking on air. God, he thought you were just perfect standing up there, completely in control of that stage. He wanted to run up the steps and hug you, kiss you, to tell you how much he adored you. How you should be with him and not Trey, but then you began to play and he was snapped back into reality. He didn’t recognize the piece, but it didn’t matter. Your sound carried through the hall with such vibrancy and clarity, and your fingers danced across the keys effortlessly. You made it look so easy, each movement more beautiful than the last.

(6)

As you brought the last movement to a close, Brian stood up and gave you a standing ovation. You knew it was overkill of him, but as you watched him fill the room with thunderous applause you couldn’t help but smile. You took your bows and with one more look at Brian, made your way offstage.

Twenty minutes later, the recital had come to a close. The last few flutes had performed but to Brian they paled in comparison to you. After a quick word with your professor and some scattered congratulations and compliments to your fellow performers, you made your way out into the audience. You saw Brian standing near the back, beaming as you half walked half ran up the stairs to him.

“So, what did you think?” you said, “it didn’t bore you too much I hope.”

“Are you kidding? Y/N, that was incredible!”

You blushed.

“I mean I knew you played well and everything, but that was just so beautiful. It was like you were singing through your flute, you’ve got a real talent.”

“You’re so sweet, you know that?” you said as you pulled him in for a hug, “what did I ever do to deserve a friend like you?”

Friend, Brian thought to himself, that’s all he would ever be to you.

Taglist: @peter-sue-the-management @borhapqueen92

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39hystericalqueens · 4 years

Text

It’s A Hard Life (Brian May x Reader) Chapter 1

MASTERLIST

Chapter 1

Warnings: Some swearing

A/N: It’s finally here! The first chapter of my Brian May x Reader fic, It’s A Hard Life. I worked really hard on this so I hope you all enjoy! Additionally, I don’t have a taglist yet so if you like what you read please message me and I’ll be sure to tag you in all future installments.

Word Count: 4.8k (she’s a long first chapter)

October 1969

*beep beep beep*

It never ceased to amaze you how jarring the sound of your alarm clock could be. Loud and unrelenting, it was especially obnoxious this morning because it signaled one thing: the beginning of the week. Grudgingly, you rolled over to check the time.

6:45 AM

Ugh. In an hour you’d have to be in class, and not just any class. Professor Wesham’s Intermediate Music Theory course was taught at 8am sharp every morning five days a week. Professor Wesham was a rather vile man with a love for discipline, trick questions, and embarrassing his students in front of the rest of the class. He had no interest in being a professor and mentioned that at any moment he saw fit. Rather, he believed that music theory was a subject that very few could teach correctly, and so it was his duty as a musician to impart those teachings upon young students, no matter how much he hated it. If you could have you would have dropped his class after the first week, but for a degree in music performance, all levels of theory were required.

You looked over at the clock again.

7:02 AM

C’mon Y/N, gonna have to get up sooner or later.

With quite a bit of effort, you finally pulled yourself up and out of bed and into the first pair of jeans you saw lying on the floor.

(1)

____

“...so when we’re looking to find a mode of a scale we can look to the intervals for the answers. Each mode has its own unique combination of whole tones and semitones, so if you know the patterns you can accurately alter the scale…”

As expected, class that morning was hellish. A thirty-minute lecture on the basics of modes followed by another twenty minutes of history and you found yourself slowly drifting back to sleep. Your thoughts were soon taken over by memories of being curled up in bed this morning and fantasies of what you would be eating for lunch in a few hours.

Maybe spaghetti? Or soup? I could really go for soup today. With luck they’ll have that creamy tomato one that I love down at the cafe...

“Miss Y/L/N?!” Professor Wesham’s voice rang out through the lecture hall

Shit.

“Miss Y/L/N I asked you a question, but it appears as though you can’t be bothered to pay attention to what I’m saying this morning. Have you heard a word of what I’ve said?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but nothing came out.

“That’s what I thought. Can anyone else answer my question? Anyone at all? Or are you all just going to sit there and stare at me like a bunch of deadbeats?!”

Silence filled the hall and for a moment it seemed as though he was about to give up and move on when suddenly he yelled,

“Susie! What is the C Mixolydian scale?”

From the back of the hall, a faint voice answered,

“It’s the 5th mode of the F major scale, it follows the Mixolydian interval pattern of whole whole semi whole whole semi whole, and the notes are C D E F G A and B flat.”

“Correct.”

And with that, he moved on forward with the lesson.

I could have answered that, you thought to yourself, all the bastard needed to do was repeat himself.

You sighed and silently took notes for the rest of the period.

When class let out you made a beeline for the door, hurrying out of the building and down towards the green commons in front. You didn’t stop walking until you saw the sign for The Cafe. Located right in the center of the music department, The Cafe was your go-to spot. Coffee and pastries in the mornings, sandwiches and soup for lunch, and full-on dinner seven nights a week. Although technically open to the general public, the music students at Ealing had claimed the place for themselves long ago, and you had never seen it empty in your entire time at the college. Today was no exception. You pushed your way in and headed straight for the counter to order.

“One creamy tomato soup please,” you said to the woman at the counter, and with your table number in hand, you found a small booth in the corner and collapsed into it.

It had been a particularly difficult week for you. The new term just started a few weeks ago and already your professors were piling on work. Theory worksheets, composition assignments, and three new solos had all been handed to you in the past few weeks, and it wouldn’t have been so bad if you didn’t also have a job that demanded long shifts late at night. You worked at Selmer’s, the music store in town and, due to your schedule, almost exclusively worked the night shifts from 6 until closing at midnight. It wasn’t a bad gig by any means, in fact you really liked working there. You never knew who would walk through the door. One moment it would be a broke uni student popping in to buy new guitar strings and the next it could be a famous musician like Pete Townshend. Okay so maybe not Pete Townshend, but you had once sold Jim McCarty a set of drumsticks. It was your one claim to fame.

As you ate your soup you enjoyably became lost in your own thoughts, so much so that you didn’t notice when someone sat down across from you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?”

The voice of your best friend Freddie interrupted your quiet contemplation. You loved him to death but sometimes he really had the worst timing.

The story of how you two met was actually quite funny. It was back in September of last year, the beginning of your first year of uni. The night before classes were set to start you had gone to a party and somehow ended up right in the middle of a game of truth or dare, only the rules had been altered slightly so that anyone who chose truth also had to take a shot. Being the relatively shy person that you were, you hadn’t taken many dares and as a result found yourself to be rather drunk.

“Alright c’mon Y/N,” said a guy named Greg (he was in your year and studying music as well) “you can’t pick truth forever.”

“Ok fine, dare”

“I dare you,” Greg continued, “to make out with Freddie.” He gestured to a man who appeared to be just as drunk as you were sitting across the circle. He laughed and said,

“Whenever you’re ready darling, I’ll just be over here waiting.” With a roll of your eyes toward Greg, you had crawled your way across the circle, straddled Freddie’s lap, and started to viciously make out with him to the best of your abilities in your drunken state.

The next morning you had woken up wickedly hungover and as you walked down the street to find something for breakfast you had bumped into none other than Freddie from the night before. He had laughed at the state of both of you (“we need to make sure that neither one of us ever drinks that much again!”) and offered to take you out to breakfast and the rest was history. It was definitely an odd way to start a friendship, but you two found that you just clicked together. His outspoken nature balanced out your tendencies to sink back into the shadows, and your level-headedness counteracted his love of making decisions on a whim. It really was, at least you two thought so, the perfect friendship.

“Hello? Y/N? Is anyone home in there?” Freddie continued as you looked up from your food.

“Hey Fred,” you said, coming to terms with the fact that your time for quiet contemplation was over. “What brings you down here? I thought you had a class way at the other end of campus this morning.”

“I did. And then I decided that I was feeling a bit peckish and could go for a bowl of The Cafe’s famous tomato soup, even if it is all the way on the other side of school. But this worked out perfectly, me running into you here, because I have something important to tell you!”

He dramatically reached his hands out and motioned for you to take them in yours.

“You know I have been following this band called Smile around for ages.”

You nodded.

“And you know I’ve been begging you to come out and see one of their shows with me”

Once again you nodded. At least once a month (if not more) Freddie would try and drag you along to one of their shows despite your efforts to tell him that rock concerts really weren’t your thing.

“Well recently I’ve started to hang around with them properly, them being the band, and we’ve become rather close. You and I both know Tim of course but it’s the other band members that I’ve really started to click with. We’re even talking about getting a flat together. They still won’t let me sing in the band, but that’s an issue for another day. What I need to tell you is that they’re playing a free gig tomorrow night right here at Ealing and you and I are both going!”

You opened your mouth to protest but Freddie kept talking.

“And don’t even try to get out of this one. I know for a fact that on Tuesdays you only work until 7, and I also know that you don’t have plans afterward because yesterday on the phone you expressed to me just how boring your week was going to be. So unless within the last 24 hours you have made plans to go out late on a Tuesday night after work, you have no excuse not to go with me to this.”

You stared back at him in disbelief.

“Alright Fred, you got me fair and square. I will go with you tomorrow,”

“Excellent!” he exclaimed, “I’ll be at Selmer’s to pick you up from work at 7 PM sharp tomorrow. Oh, this is going to be so fun!”

“Sounds like a plan,” and then you added, “And just because I’m going this time it doesn’t mean you’ll get me to go next time.”

“Fair enough,” Freddie said, “but you’re going to have so much fun tomorrow night that I won’t even have to ask you to go with me again.”

And with that he sprung up and made his way over to the counter to order some food, leaving you alone to wonder what on earth you had gotten yourself into.

——

The store was surprisingly slow for a Tuesday evening. Two hours into your shift and only three people had come in, and all within ten minutes of each other. To kill time you had started reorganizing the reed display, but quickly lost interest and for the past hour and a half you had simply been sitting behind the counter, listening to the old rock n roll music that played in the background, and thinking about nothing in particular.

(2)

🎵Without her I will be in misery (oh oh oh)

In misery (ooh ooh ooh)

My misery (la la la la la la) 🎵

As the song came to a close you heard the bell over the door jingle, alerting you that someone had just walked through the door. You craned your neck around the counter to see a guy with long dirty blond hair looking around frantically as though he had lost something.

“Hi,” you said, “Welcome to Selmer’s, can I help you find anyth-“

“Guitar strings!” he nearly shouted, “I need guitar strings!”

“Okay,” you said slowly, “do you have any idea as to which type of strings?”

“Oh shit...uh, I don’t know. The normal kind I guess? I just need strings!” he once again looked around frantically, eyes finally settling on the clock on the wall behind you. “Shit! I’m so going to be late!”

“Ok slow down a second,” you said calmly, “what’s all the hurry about? What, are you about to go onstage any second now?” You had meant it as a joke but to your surprise, he screamed,

“Yes!”

“Oh shit sorry I didn’t actually think you were- ok, um, so you don’t know the type of string but do you know what model the guitar is?”

“It’s uh...oh dammit I don’t know.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, but what kind of guitarist doesn’t know the kind of guitar they play?”

“I’m not the guitarist,” he said, “I’m the drummer. Our guitarist broke a string like ten minutes ago so I ran out to grab him more while he helped the rest of our band keep setting up.”

“Ah, I see,” you said. “Well since you don’t know which kinds of strings he uses I’ll just give you some Fender 12 gauges. They’re pretty standard, I’ve got a lot of people who use them so hopefully that should be ok.”

“Yeah, those should be alright.”

You rang up the package and handed it to him.

“Thank you so much, you just saved our show.”

“My pleasure,” you said as you handed him the strings, “I hope these will work out for you guys tonight, and if not, well then you didn’t buy them here.”

He laughed at your comment.

“You’re funny,” he said. “Normally I would stay around and chat, maybe ask for your number, but I do kind of have to be going or else my bandmates will have my head on a spike. But it was great to meet you…uh….”

“Y/N,” you answered his unspoken question.

“Great to meet you Y/N, I’m Roger.” Is all he said before turning on his heel and sauntering out through the doorway. You could tell he was trying to maintain a cool, laid back composure despite having burst through your door in a panic not ten minutes prior. You laughed to yourself, wondering if you would ever see him again.

Looking at the clock you saw that it was eight till 7. Freddie would be here any minute. You got right to work closing up the store for the night. You were right in the middle of locking the window display cases when once again you heard the bell over the door ring.

“Hello darling I hope you’re ready for a concert!” Freddie’s melodious voice sang out.

“Hey Fred, just give me two more minutes and I’ll be ready to go,” you replied.

“I have been absolutely restless all day today thinking about tonight,” Freddie continued, “We are going to have so much fun!”

He made his way over to the counter and leaned against it, facing your back. “I really think you’re going to like their music,” he continued, “they’ve got a very real sound, none of that formulaic clean-cut bullshit.”

“I told you, Freddie,” you said, turning around to face him, “I make no promises as to whether or not I’ll like them. But they do sound quite lovely from the way you describe them.”

With that, you shut off all the lights, lock up the doors, and the two of you were on your way.

____

The concert was being held in the student center at Ealing, right in the middle of the campus. On a normal day the large open room was typically used for fundraisers, game nights, and a variety of other student-run activities, but every now and then the school would allow bands to put on shows. As you walked through the door you were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people packed into the room. All the tables and chairs had been pushed to the sides making it so it was barely possible to sit down, though there were a few people who had managed to squeeze themselves into a seat. You were about to follow their lead, your eyes fixed on an empty table close to the back, but Freddie grabbed you by the arm and pulled you both up to the very front.

“Do we really have to be this close, Fred? I can hear just as well from back there,” you said, gesturing towards the table you had so lovingly had your eye on.

“Darling we’re seeing a rock concert, not the symphony, it’s not just about being able to hear them. Watching them play and being right up in the middle of things is all part of the experience.”

You looked at him rather quizzically.

“Alright, but if I get my ears blown out tonight it’s your fault.”

“That’s the spirit! Now I’m going to go and get us both something to drink. I’ll be right back.”

As you watched your friend disappear into the crowd of students you turned to focus your attention on the stage in front of you. They had taken the small stage that permanently stayed in the back of the student center and never usually saw anything more exciting than experimental theater pieces put on by the drama students, and had completely transformed it into something out of a whimsical fever dream. Brightly colored metallic fabrics had been draped over the dingy, dust-filled curtain that hung behind the stage. In the center of the stage sat a drum kit with a giant red-lipped smile on the bass drum. To the side, there were two guitars on stands, a pretty standard bass guitar, which you recognized as Tim’s, and a guitar which you had never seen the likes of before. It was a bright cherry red color with a black pickguard and it was oddly round in shape. You had been working at a well-stocked music store for nearly two years now and had never seen any guitar that remotely resembled it before. To top it all off you saw that they had covered the lights facing the stage with different colored translucent films, further adding to the whimsical ambiance.

You know, this actually seems like it’s going to be a lot of fun. Dammit, Fred, why’d you have to be right.

You shook your head to yourself and began to look around to see if you could see Freddie anywhere when suddenly everyone started clapping.

The band was making its way onstage. On bass, there was Tim Staffell. He went to Ealing, studying graphic design, and was a good friend of Freddie’s. The three of you often went out together for drinks. You then looked over to see the man behind the drum kit and couldn’t believe what you saw. Sitting there was Roger, the guy you had sold guitar strings to mere hours ago.

“Ha!” You said aloud.

“What’s so funny?” Interjected Freddie, who had just appeared next to you holding two beers.

“I know the drummer,” you said.

“You know Roger?”

“Yeah,” you continue, chuckling, “I sold him guitar strings a few hours ago. He was in a right panic about it. Apparently, their guitarist broke one earlier and didn’t have any extras on hand.”

“Brian didn’t have any extra strings on him? That must have really caused a panic, I don’t think Brian has ever forgotten anything in his entire life.”

“I’m assuming Brian is the guitarist?”

“Yeah, and he’s bloody brilliant at it. There he is right there.” Freddie pointed to the man standing on the right of the stage. He was incredibly tall and lanky, with a head full of unruly curly brown hair and deep brown eyes. He was wearing black pinstriped trousers and a white top which he had accessorized with the most interesting looking fuzzy vest. He exuded the most peculiar combination of confidence and recluse, and as he stood there fiddling with his guitar you couldn’t help but think he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen.

You turned to say something to Freddie, but before you could get any words out Tim had started talking into the microphone.

“Hello Ealing!” He shouted. He was met with a resounding chorus of cheers and whoops from the crowd. “We are Smile!” More cheers. “You all know me, I’m Tim Staffell, over there on guitar we have Brian May, and back there on the drums is Roger Taylor. We’ve got a good set for you tonight, all originals except for a few, and we’re going to start with a song called Step On Me.”

At once they struck up an upbeat tune and it didn’t take long for the audience to start dancing and singing along with them.

(3)

🎵Know what I said when I saw you crying

Hang on that’s folly

I was weak in the head out to meet your lying

You’re just a bad memory

My life was going to be better

My why did I never ever see she’d step on me🎵

As you listened to them sing you couldn’t help but nod and dance along with the rest of the audience. Fred was right again, they really did have a sound the likes of which you had never heard before. Not only were their harmonies perfectly in tune, but they had an almost angelic quality to them that pulled you in, wanting to hear more.

“Well now look who’s actually having a good time,” Freddie said to you as they finished their first song. I knew you would like them.

“They really are something else,” you said, “although I would probably like them even more if I weren’t surrounded by so many people right now.”

Freddie laughed.

“I guess I’ll have to talk to Tim about getting you a private show then.”

They went from song to song, each one more enjoyable than the last, and while you tried to keep your attention from wavering, you kept finding yourself drawn to Brian the guitarist. Freddie hadn’t been lying when he said that Brian was bloody brilliant at what he did. You watched him easily play his way through several guitar solos, making them sound effortless, though with your musical knowledge (and by the look on his face) you could tell that they were anything but that. He played with a look of concentration on his face, never wavering except for the few times he looked up and out into the crowd. It was then, you noticed, that a small smile would cross his face.

All too soon Tim was at the microphone again, announcing that this would be their last song. You felt as if you could continue to listen to their music for hours and wished to yourself that the show wasn’t over yet.

“You all have been such a great crowd tonight,” Tim went on, “and so to finish we’re going to be bringing you everyone’s favorite: Doing Alright!”

If you thought you had liked the songs they had played the rest of the night, then you loved this one. It started out with a slow ballad, complete with more complex guitar work, but as it went on it morphed into hard rock with grit and feeling. You thought the juxtaposition of the two styles was a daring choice seeing as it would be easy to mess up, but they did it with such grace and style so that it completely worked. When the song finally came to a close and the band took their bows you joined in with the thunderous applause and cheering.

“Fred, I’ve got to say it: I really did enjoy myself tonight. It was a little loud and crowded for my liking but I think the music and the show were able to make up for it, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll come with you again.”

“Oh that’s wonderful darling! I knew tonight was going to be a success. But it’s not quite over yet.”

“No?”

“Of course not! You didn’t think you were going to get away without meeting the band, also known as my new friends. C’mon, they’re probably around somewhere outside packing up.”

You and Freddie fought your way through the crowds of students to get to the door and out into the night air. As Freddie had said, you found Tim and Roger sitting on the back of a van which you could see was full up of their equipment. Brian was nowhere in sight.

“Freddie! So glad you could make it!” Exclaimed Roger, standing up. “And,” he turned to you, “I don’t believe it. Y/N from the music store, why on earth didn’t you tell me you were coming to the show tonight?”

“Mostly because I had no idea this was your band,” you replied, laughing. “Freddie here has been after me to see and meet you guys for ages.”

“And,” said Roger, “what do you think?”

“Coming from someone who doesn’t tend to enjoy rock concerts, I thought you guys were wonderful. I did not expect to enjoy myself tonight as much as I did. I think you’ve really got something special here.”

“You flatter us too much,” said Tim, “if you keep talking like that we’re all gonna get big heads. And Roger’s is big enough as is.”

“Hey!” said Roger, but he smiled.

“So,” you continue, “Freddie said you guys are thinking about getting a flat together?”

“Yeah, Brian and I found this place up the road a little, Brian’s our guitarist by the way,” said Roger.

At the mention of his name, you could feel your heart flutter slightly in your chest.

“Freddie mentioned him,” you said, “Did the strings end up working out for him?”

“I thought they were fine, but Bri gets particular about these things. I guess they were the wrong brand or gauge or something like that. He kept going on about how he was going to sound awful tonight and his sound was going to be too abrasive.”

“Well yes, different strings are going to give you different sounds and I don’t know what he usually uses, but you guys sounded just great to me.”

Part of you desperately wanted to ask where he was right now, but you decided against it.

Against your better judgment, you had let Freddie convince you to stay around and talk with him, Tim, and Roger for a while longer. In that time you learned that Roger was studying to be a dentist at London Hospital Medical School, and Brian was over at the Imperial College studying, as Roger put it, “some sort of space physics.”

“He’s real into all that,” Roger continued, “but I can’t say the same for myself. I get good marks and all that, professors think I have a lot of ‘promise’, whatever that means, but a dentist for the rest of my life? I’m not sure I could handle that. Nah, I’m hoping to stay in rock n roll for as long as I can. What about you? You’re over at Ealing with Fred and Tim, right? Are you another graphic design nerd like these guys?”

“No, music actually. Nothing like what you guys do,” you added, seeing Roger’s face light up, “classical repertoire mostly. I play the flute.”

“You any good?”

“I suppose that’s a matter of opinion. Personally, I tend to think I’m shit, but you ask any music student and they’ll tell you the same thing.”

“Oh don’t be like that, Y/N,” interjected Freddie, “she’s bloody marvelous. She can play you Bach like you’ve never heard before, although Roger I don’t think you have ever heard it before.”

“Oh come off it, I’ve heard my fair share of the classical stuff.”

“Yes, next time you go to the symphony be sure to refer to it as ‘the classical stuff’ I’m sure you won’t get any funny looks at all.”

You and Tim howled with laughter at Freddie’s comment while Roger gave him a good punch in the shoulder.

“Dear god, look at the time,” you said a moment later after having glanced at your watch. “Is it really two thirty in the morning?!”

“I suppose it is,” said Tim, “sure hasn’t felt that long.”

“I’ve really got to be going then,” you said.

“Aw c’mon stay out for a little longer with us,” said Tim, “Fred and I hardly get to see you anymore.”

“I know, and I wish that I could, but I’ve got class at 8 tomorrow morning and I should at least try to get some sleep.”

“Oh alright go on, we know you’re right,” said Freddie, “I should probably be going myself, I am quite exhausted.”

“See ya later Fred,” said Roger, “great to see you again, Y/N. You should come round to the flat once we get it, we’d all love to see you again and you can meet Brian as well.”

The flutter was back.

“I definitely will,” you replied before giving them all a wave and starting back to your own flat.

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