Work Text:
25 December, 1971
Roger never really enjoyed the holidays. He liked the time off school, but he didn’t like being with his family, family get togethers were never fun, and they ruined the whole holiday for him.
His parents were not soulmates, and while those relationships can and do work, his parents did not. Their families were both upset that they hadn’t waited to find their soulmates to marry and have a family, setting off a domino effect of tension and resentment, which he assumed was part of the reason his parent’s marriage got so bad and ruined every family gathering he could remember.
As soon as he was an adult he never went to them again, thus didn’t celebrate for a couple years. When he met Freddie, whose family did not celebrate Christmas, they would decorate a little and exchange gifts and spend the day together, which was enough for him.
This year, Freddie had someone else to spend the holiday with, so he was alone. Freddie had not found his soulmate yet either, but he still dated around. Roger dated as well, but his last girlfriend had found her soulmate in October. He tried to spend his life not thinking about his soulmate, never wanting to get too hopeful to find them only to be disappointed and end up like his parents. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to find his soulmate, he deeply desired finding them, but his anxieties surrounding it also made him block those thoughts out.
The world is probably not much better in colour. It’s the same as it is in greyscale, just a minor difference. He would think to himself, when the main benefit of finding a soulmate was brought into question: seeing colours. His vision was already not the best, so he would comfort himself in the loneliness of not having a soulmate or partner with how colours would not improve his vision, or would make it worse.
He would never admit it to anyone, but every time he went out he hoped to find his soulmate. Anyone who knew his body count and how easily he would take someone to his room would be surprised to know how deeply he desired the love and to love someone whose soul was literally meant to be bonded with his own.
He was going to treat today as a normal day, and everyone he wanted to wish a good holiday to had already received his wishes and gifts. Roger woke up feeling a little odd, so he used that as an excuse to relax all day.
He opened his gifts he kept in the corner of his room, Freddie had given him a replacement for a record he accidentally left in his van and melted as well as a few new ones. A few of his other friends gave him sci-fi novels and music equipment, including multiple new pairs of drumsticks, which he was rather grateful for considering his habit of breaking them.
It wasn’t as fun when he was alone, he missed joking with Fred and trying to wrap himself in the ripped up paper when it was over and making fun of each other's gifts. He was disappointed he wouldn’t see his sister’s reaction to his gifts for her.
He put all his gifts in their places and wrote a list of those he would call later, right then he just wanted to relax while he had the house to himself.
He showered, got into his most comfortable (ugly) clothes and sat on the couch, the cat, Ziggy following him.
He spent the day listening to music and reading his gifted books. He didn’t want to watch television, only holiday content would be on today, which was too cheesy for his mood at the moment. He still felt off, not good or bad, but as if he was needing to go somewhere soon and couldn’t get anything done. He stood up often to walk around, open the fridge and get nothing, walk into his room and get nothing, sit back on the couch, pet the cat, try to focus on his books, but he couldn’t. As soon as the day started, it was getting dark out, the hours fell away from him like grains of sand in an hourglass.
It was dark out, barely 7pm, and snowing lightly. He checked the (rarely accurate) thermometer on the window said -4C °
He didn’t want to be in his house anymore. It wasn’t just not wanting to be there, he needed to get out. Roger didn’t know why, he just had to go out. Where to, he didn’t know either.
Next thing he knew he was putting on his boots and grabbing his keys, he took a torch just in case it got too dark. He opened his door and locked it behind him.
The hallway was dim, the only noise was the soft buzzing of the cheap above head lights, joined by the clicking of his black heeled boots (which were not meant for snow and winter weather, but he was willing to sacrifice that comfort for the outfit) on the carpet.
He pushed the door of the flat building open, needing to shove his whole body against it to get through the snow, which had been falling more heavily the past hour.
The cold air hit his face harshly, but it smelt oddly nice, and almost nostalgic.
It was his own intuition which led him outside, so he went with that same feeling to tell him which direction to go. He knew the area well enough to feel safe wandering aimlessly.
The street lamps lit the snow to look much brighter, they usually illuminated a colder grey. The shop windows were dark, aside from the few Christmas decorations and lights from the above apartments.
He walked past his street, the park, office buildings, another park, and found himself sitting on the sidewalk of a bridge. What would someone think of the sight of me here? he wondered. He thought about leaving, but the anticipatory feeling was beginning to calm, replaced with a peace he never knew. The weather was getting colder, but it was easy to ignore it.
Roger looked around, an empty street on either side of where he was sitting, and freezing but still moving water below the bridge.
He sat for god knows how long before he noticed a figure walking through the street lamps. The figure was tall, with a long coat and big hair. His face was obscured by the overhead light of the streetlamps. It was still snowing, but lighter than it had been a few hours ago.
The figure didn’t seem to notice him, as his face was still turned down, staring at his own shoes. Roger felt frozen (not from the cold) in place, leaning on the railing and staring at the approaching person. The bridge was short, maybe 10 meters from each side of the river. The figure came up around halfway, close to where Roger was, and Roger doubted they even noticed him. The figure was standing a mere meter away beside him and still not showing any sign of seeing him.
They each stood in silence for a minute before Roger broke the silence.
“Hey,” Roger greeted, looking straight across to the other side, his eyes unblinking.
The already flattened snow crunched where the man was standing. “Hi,” Roger heard his response, he had a deep but calming voice, one he wouldn’t mind hearing more. “Why’re you here?” the man added in a hostile tone.
“I dunno, what’re you doing here?” Roger responded. He was taken aback by the man’s tone of voice, but tried his best to appear unaffected.
The man sighed deeply. “I don’t know either,” he nearly mumbled. As Roger turned to look at him, he dropped to the ground with his head in his hands. He didn’t look or sound like he was crying, but something was definitely wrong.
“Hey, uh, are you ok?” Roger asked, feeling stupid asking the most obviously answered question in the world. Of course the man beside him wasn’t fucking ok, but he was at a loss of what else to say. Roger tentatively stepped closer to him and crouched down beside him, still looking forward at the opposite railing.
Roger knew what the man came here to do, the river was a far way down despite the relative shortness of the bridge and the water below was too rough for swimming. Roger hoped his presence was enough to stop him from doing it.
“I don’t know,” the man answered.
“S’there anything I can do to help at all? I’m Roger, by the way.” If he couldn’t help the man himself he could at least bide time.
“Just… staying here, I guess, I didn’t expect to run into anyone.”
“I can do that,” Roger turned to look at him, the other already had his head turned.
The moment their eyes locked Roger’s world changed completely. He first noticed the unfamiliar, distinctly not grey colour of the man's eyes. He saw the not-grey glow on their clothing and skin from the lights strung across the bridge, the cold colour of the street lights lit the snow. His gaze snapped back to the man beside him, his soulmate.
“I’m Brian,” he said when their eyes locked for a second time. He looked like he had been crying a long time today, but tears were no longer in his eyes.
Roger, overwhelmed, felt himself tear up. “Can I touch you?” he asked, almost afraid that Brian wasn’t real, or that he would still jump. Brian nodded and Roger latched his arms around him, burying his head in his soulmate’s shoulder, Brian moved to hold him as well. “You won’t jump now, right?” Roger asked, barely audible from his near-whisper volume and that his face was still buried in Brian’s shoulder.
Following what had become a trend that night, they sat holding each other for a long time, tightly, as if to let go of the other they would float away.
“It’s too cold to stay out for much longer,” Roger adjusted his head so his face was no longer buried in Brian’s shoulder. “Nobody’s at mine if you don’t want to go back to yours.” Brian nodded and loosened his grip on Roger in response.
They stood up, linking arms, and Roger pointed him in the direction of his street. Brian was silent.
“Y’know, we’re gonna have to learn to match colours with names now,” Roger smiled, trying to lighten up the tone of their meeting. “N’ in the spring I’ve been told the flowers look beautiful in colour.”
“My mum told me about that,” he responded, sounding stronger than the last time he spoke.
They fell into a comfortable silence. The odd feeling Roger had all day was gone, replaced with a still, calm feeling, one he couldn’t quite remember experiencing before. He wondered if Brian felt the same thing.
***
24 december, 1972
It took Brian an hour or so to get comfortable with Roger, but by then they were talking a mile a minute about near everything. Apparently Brian played guitar and had attended the same college as Roger.
Brian’s hobby came in handy, as his guitar blended perfectly with Roger and John’s rhythm and Freddie’s voice, as they later found out.
It was to be expected that they would get along well, but considering where they had been a short time ago it was surprising, Brian’s change of mood. They spent the days before Freddie returned to the flat laying around, neither had to work until the new year so they were free to bask in each other's presence. They didn’t go very far beyond hugging, but they already talked about moving in together, Brian being rather enthusiastic about the idea. Of course he would have to talk to Freddie about it first, as well as John, who at that point was close to moving into the flat to save on expenses.
Telling Fred and John about it was a whole different thing. Neither of them had found their soulmates yet, and he wouldn’t want to be essentially rubbing the fact that he had found his life partner at such a young age in their faces; some people were awfully sore about that. He could lie and just say Brian was a good friend, but he doubted either of the pair wanted to lie and eventually have to tell them the truth. Let alone the fact that some were not approving of mates being the same sex, while those ideals were very uncommon nowadays, that thought remained in the back of his head.
Luckily both of them reacted well to Roger telling them about his soulmate, and were very much joyful of the fact that he was a guitar player. Freddie in particular was happy about the fact that he finally had someone to see colour in the house.
Roger, personally needed time to get used to having a soulmate. He did often go out to pubs to have a little bit of sexual indulgence, no-strings-attached type nights, and it was odd for him to think he would at one point only have sex with one person the rest of his life. He and Brian took a few months to get to the point of them having sex, so he figured they might be able to work something out later, especially if Queen got off the ground.
Coming to terms with having a soulmate also meant addressing his discomfort with family.
His distance from familial closeness in his youth made him almost grow an aversion to it. He felt off at the very idea of family in its modern context, and an undertone of discomfort would probably last the rest of his life.
He still hadn’t quite gotten over it enough to ignore it, but it was getting better in his relationship with Brian. Roger a few years ago would be absolutely repulsed seeing how quickly the pair fell into domesticity, but he didn’t care anymore, Freddie loved to poke fun at them for that.
Roger never really celebrated the holidays before he moved out of his childhood home. He did some things at school, his mother would bring him and his sister a few gifts, but the way most people celebrated the holiday was completely foreign to him; along with other things which surrounded family. In short, he never really celebrated until he started spending it with Freddie. It was never celebrated traditionally, whatever that meant, but they tailored it to their own tastes every year and enjoyed themselves.
This year all four of them decided to spend the holiday together.
Currently, Roger was sitting in his pile of blankets and pillows that were slowly but surely spilling off the couch, in a grey area between the conscious world and the unconscious. His boyfriend was out doing last minute groceries, and Roger, despite having fallen asleep and woken up in his arms that morning, he was still hungry with need for a cuddle.
They had more pillows out than usual, the stupid decorative festive pillows on display, so Roger was able to make a whole nest of pillows to tuck himself into.
Just before he drifted off, the sound of a key being shoved into his door woke him. He excitedly stood up, the tentatively balanced pillows and blankets falling off the couch, but he ignored it and ran to greet his boyfriend at the door.
The door was only just taller than Brian, and Roger always found it funny how his hair always brushed the top of the doorframe. He was carrying a few wrapped boxes in an old reusable grocery bag, which he dropped by the table after closing and locking the door.
Roger slid across the floor so quickly he nearly fell on the ground, catching himself with his arm on the wall.
“You alright?” Brian laughed, dropping the bags by the wall.
Roger, still leaning against the wall grinned, eyeing the bags, some of which had wrapped boxes pointing out of them. “Is that for me?” he asked coyly, bringing out the spoiled brat Brian was a complete pushover too.
“You’ll see tomorrow, you impatient bastard!” he jokingly shoved Roger, who was now fully on the ground back with his socked foot. Roger rolled away and threw himself into an upright kneeling position.
Brian, feeling particularly courteous today, grabbed Roger from under his arms and lifted him up, Roger wrapping his arms around him in response as his boyfriend pulled him up.
They leaned against each other for a moment, Roger’s head resting in the crook of his neck, a place where Roger loved to take refuge in.
“It’ll be a year tomorrow, won’t it?” Roger said, sounding more delicate than he did just seconds before. Thinking back to their meeting was bittersweet.
“Mhmm,” Brian responded wordlessly, “have I told you how happy I am to have met you today?”
“I think you have, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” Roger pulled back to smile at his soulmate.
It was a rather nice contrast to the same day last year.
Their lives still were not near where they would like to be, Brian still had his episodes as did Roger, they were still broke, they were still looking for a way to break into the music industry, but for the holiday they at least were together as soulmates.