author’s note: ghostin by ariana grande is honestly one of the most beautiful songs i have heard in a long time. i wasn’t expecting to like her new album, but there are a few songs i adore. it took two full days (litteraly!) to write this so i’d love to hear what you think and likes/reblogs are always appreciated! inspired by the lyrics, the format is a little different to how i ‘normally’ do it but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. lots of love to you all.

summary: one relationship ends, another flourishes. 

warning: deals with issues including cheating and (vaguely) mental illness. slight smut also!

I know you hear me when you cry. 

I try to hold it in at night while you’re sleeping next to me, but it’s your arms that I need this time.

Look at the cards that we’ve been dealt, if you were anybody else probably wouldn’t last a day. 

Heavy tears, a rain parade from hell.

Brian woke up yet again to the sound of crying from the room next door. He clenched his eyes, his fists, every muscle in his body: anger at the man who had caused this daily occurrence surged through his body but was quickly replaced with heartbreak as the noise grew louder and louder. Shrugging a shirt over his head as he walked down the corridor, he realised it was more than merely crying now – it was the anguished sobbing of someone who had been completely and utterly broken.

Without a word, he slipped under the covers and wrapped his arms around you as instinctively you turned to bury your face in his shirt. Kissing your forehead softly, he rubbed your back soothingly as your tears soaked his top, fingertips clutching the material as if scared he would disappear if you let go. In all his years of knowing you, Brian had never witnessed you so defeated and depressed. You hardly ate or spoke, only leaving his guest room to use the bathroom. The outside world had become a stranger to you since you found out, curtains shut and connections cut. 

Exhaustion smothered you to sleep eventually, but Brian lay awake, still holding you tightly. Moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains, the cloud covered sky concealing the stars. Brian sighed, stroking your hair as you dozed in his arms, longing to fall into a slumber too so his troubled mind could rest.

Baby, you do it so well. 

You been so understanding, you been so good, 

and I’m putting you through more than one every should, 

and I’m hating myself because you don’t want to admit that it hurts you.

“Morning.” Brian said as he walked into the bedroom, holding a tray of food and a mug of tea. “I made you breakfast.” He smiled softly, sitting at the end of the bed as you sat up, pillows propped behind you. “Not hungry, Bri. Thank you though.” You answered, playing with the hem of the duvet covers. He swallowed nervously, bowing his head. “You need to eat. It’s been a week and you haven’t had a proper meal.” 

A wave of guilt washed over you at the sight of your best friend looking so desperate. You pulled the plate towards you and took small mouthfuls of toast but eventually made your way through the two slices. Brian’s relief showed by the way he shifted so he was sat beside you, and he began to do the paper’s crossword. Briefly, your mind forget yourself as he scribbled letters on the page. You were engrossed by his existence, the way he murmured to himself as he thought about a clue and the small smirk that momentarily graced his face when the answer came to mind. His frown didn’t falter for a few minutes, so after a sip of tea you spoke. “What’s the hint?” 

His eyes lit up at your interest. “Suggested plan, eight letters.” Tapping your nails against the cup, you flicked through your mental dictionary before thinking of the word. “Proposal?” 

As soon as the words left your mouth you felt a surge of nausea as the memories of him flooded your mind. Leaping out of bed, you covered your mouth as you ran to the bathroom before retching into the toilet as Brian collapsed beside you, pulling your hair back. “It’s ok, it’s ok.” Brian soothed as you emptied your stomach, leaning against the seat for support. Pouring you a glass of water, he sat beside you on the cold bathroom floor as you drank it. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking stupid.” You sniffed, wiping your nose with your sleeve.

“No, you’re not.” He insisted, tilting your chin upwards with his hand. “You can feel whatever you want, for however you long you want. I’ll always be here, and you never need to apologise or thank me for it.” 

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again, over him. 

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again, instead of ghosting him.

The streets of London welcomed you back with open arms. The Autumn breeze tousled your hair, leaves crunched beneath your feet and the sun shone warmly as you walked arm in arm with Brian to the shops. It felt good to be outside after two weeks, to leave his house which now felt like home. 

Laughing at something he said, Brian grinned as you threw your head back and the sound erupted from your lips, your old self slowly but surely returning. It didn’t last long. 

“Can’t satisfy one so you’ll try the others then, love?” A man yelled from a van driving across the street, recognising you both. Brian’s face contorted with anger, and he went to respond but you grabbed his jacket. “Please don’t.” You pleaded, tears spilling onto your cheeks. “It’ll just make it worse.” Turning to see the familiar look of devastation on your face, Brian’s heart ached. “C’mere.” He murmured, enveloping you in his arms so you could hide your face from the strangers that walked past you. “He’s right, Bri.” You wept, as you both made your way back, forgetting the groceries. “I wasn’t good enough.” 

Halting immediately, Brian held you firmly, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t you ever say that, ever! He didn’t deserve you! He didn’t deserve you from the fucking start, ok?” Startled at his outburst, you stared at him blankly before you pulled him into your arms instead. “I don’t deserve you, Brian.” You whispered in his ear as you embraced. “Yes, you do. You deserve me and so much more.”

We’ll get through this, we’ll get past this, 

I’m a girl with a whole lot of baggage, 

but I love you. 

We’ll get past this, I’m a girl with a whole lot of baggage. 

“She’s staying with me.” Brian answered. 

Roger’s pacing came to a sudden stop. John and Freddie shared an anxious look. 

“She’s what?” Roger asked, despite now knowing the answer. “She’s staying with me.” Brian repeated, refusing to avert his gaze from the eyes of the drummer. Roger took one step towards him, and then another. “How long?” He said through gritted teeth. “Since she found out.” 

The tension in the studio was suffocating. For once, the lead singer had no quip on the tip of his tongue, and even the rational bassist was at a loss for words. “What fucking right do you think you have to not tell me where my fiancée is?” Roger growled, nostrils flaring as anger rose inside him. “I had every right to protect my friend, your ex-fiancée, from the man who broke her heart.” The guitarist replied coolly, his words being all Roger needed to hear to throw the first punch. 

Jim, followed by the producers and technicians, burst into the room to help John and Freddie pull Roger off Brian. “How could you do that to me?” The blonde roared, struggling against the men holding him back from Brian who was clutching his bleeding nose. 

“Do that to you?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “What about what you did to her? Forgetting your anniversary because you were fucking another woman in her own damn bed a month after you asked her to marry you when you were drunk!” Brian spat, everyone alarmed by his abnormally aggressive behaviour. 

“You’ve been waiting for this haven’t you?” Roger seethed, shoving the arms restraining him off. “Waiting for me to fuck up so you can swoop in and save the day. I know you like her, you have since the day you met her. Go on, be the bloody hero! But know you have and always will be her second choice.” 

Brian grabbed his jacket, and began to storm out of the room, but stopped before he slammed the door. 

“You’re wrong. I haven’t liked her since day one.

I’ve loved her. 

That’s why I haven’t said a damn thing for two years, that’s why I reminded you of her favourite flowers every time you screwed up, that’s why I let her believe the coffee made for her on the side when she woke up in the studio was from you and not me, that’s why I said I wrote songs about strangers when they were for her. 

Because I love her and her happiness is more important than my own, and that’s more than you’ll ever be able to say.” 

Though I wish he were here instead, 

don’t want that living in your head.

“Bri, smile!” You said, squinting in the sunlight as you took the picture. The Eiffel Tower loomed above you, and Brian smiled as you stared at it open mouthed. The two of you explored, wondering down alleys and streets, trying suspicious looking food and drinking over priced wine. Afternoon slipped by, and streetlights began to light the night. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never been to Paris.” Brian exclaimed as you shared desert, and you chuckled. “Me neither!” Biting into his spoonful of cake, Brian’s expression fell when he saw the look of confliction on your face. “Roger always promised to bring me here.” You confessed quietly, fork frozen in mid-air. Brian nodded, masking the hurt he felt inside, and placed his hand on yours. “We can go if you want to.” He suggested, but you shook your head slowly, returning from your thoughts to reality. “No, it’s been nice to get away, I can’t thank you enough.” 

Brian insisted you didn’t need to, but you cut him off by shoving the cake on your fork into his mouth. “I know I don’t need to, but I want to.” You grinned at the way his cheeks bulged out with food, and his eyes widened with surprise. “You look like a chipmunk, holy shit, stay right there!” Squealing excitedly, you grabbed your polaroid and took another picture. Brian snorted when he saw it, almost choking, which caused you to erupt into even more laughter. Locals stared, tourists glared, but the two of you were too lost in each other to notice. 

He just comes to visit me when I’m dreaming every now and then. 

Sat in the window seat, your forehead was pressed against the glass as you watched the city beneath you. It was a blur of orange, contrasting the darkness of the sky. Paris was wide awake like yourself, despite it being the middle of the night, or was it morning? 

“Can’t sleep?” Brian asked, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled into the room. Despite paying for the trip, he demanded you have the bed and he the sofa, not wanting you to be unhappy or uncomfortable in anyway. “Bad dream. Sorry if I woke you.” You apologised, but he just shrugged, sitting down opposite you. “It’s ok, I was tossing and turning myself.” 

The outside light shone on him, and you couldn’t help but stare. His curls were messier than during the day, sticking out in different directions from lying down. Hazel eyes were misty with drowsiness, and his angular face looked even more striking with how the shadows fell on his face. Catching your eye, he tried to hide the fact he was blushing and scratched his neck awkwardly. 

“I dreamt it was my wedding.” You revealed, and to Brian’s surprise you looked confused rather than on the verge of tears. “I was about to say yes, but I looked at you and I… I couldn’t.” You whispered so quietly he could hardly hear you. Brian’s heart raced, anxiety rushing through his veins despite his calm external demeanour. “I don’t know who I am anymore.” Continuing, you ran your hands through your hair and rested your elbows on your knees. “I’m still his, ‘future Mrs Taylor’, one half of the press’ dream couple.” Brian bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to react. 

And after all that we been through, There’s so much to look forward to.

“But I’m also yours.  

Whenever I’m with you I feel like me, and when I’m with Roger… I haven’t felt like me in a long time.” 

What was done and what was said, leave it all here in this bed with you. 

Without thinking, Brian grabbed you by the waist and pulled you towards him, capturing your lips with his. It was messy, desperate and (to his surprise) returned with the same forcefulness. Tangling your hands in his hair, you raised your hips up so you were now straddling him, pressing your chest against his. Brian’s hands gripped your waist tightly, massaging the skin beneath it as your tongue traced his lower lip. 

“Are you sure? About this… about us?” Brian asked breathlessly, pressing his forehead against yours. You stopped, trying to think coherently despite the desire. He waited patiently, as he always did. 

“Brian, I want you.” 

Cupping his face with your hands, you kissed him slowly and your heart both broke and burst when his tears slid off his cheeks and onto your fingertips. His hands tugged at your pyjama shirt, and you raised your arms overhead so he could take it off and toss it aside. Kissing your collarbone, his lips trailed down to your chest and you moaned, throwing your head back. “Bed.” You managed to get out as he kneaded your breasts with his hands, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him towards the sheets. He collapsed underneath you, throwing his shirt off as you slipped out of your shorts. “Jesus, you’re beautiful.” Brian breathed as you climbed on top of him, and you smiled at his sweet nature. “Likewise.” His hands wandered up your thigh as you marked his neck, and when he touched you there, you whimpered softly. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” Brian requested and you kissed him in response. 

And, for the fist time, you experienced what it was like to not just fuck, but to truly make love.

Baby, you do it so well. 

You been so understanding, you been so good, 

and I’m putting you through more than one every should, 

and I’m hating myself because you don’t want to admit that it hurts you.

“He’s here.” Brian warned you gently. You stood up from the sofa, nodding as he went to open the front door. Fiddling with the hem of your jumper anxiously, you prepared to see your old lover for the first time in a month. “Hey.” You heard a familiar voice say, followed by the sound of the two men hugging. “Good to see you, Rog.” Brian said softly, before they both walked into the room. 

Roger bit his bottom lip to stop it trembling when he saw you. You looked tired, as did he, but well looked after. “Hi, love.” He whispered and you gave a small but genuine smile. “Hello, Roger.” Eyes falling to your hands, he noticed the absence of your engagement ring and hid face began to crumble as he walked over to hug you tightly. Brian turned away, busying himself by making tea to give you some privacy. Crying softly, Roger cupped your face with his hands. “Come home.” He urged, and you stroked his wrists with your thumbs. “Is this love talking, Rog? Or guilt?” The way he bowed his head shamefully answered your question – it was the latter. “I’ll always love you. But I’m not in love with you anymore, and I know you feel the same.” 

Brian leant against the doorframe, watching his best friend and love of his life embrace, parting from that chapter in their lives. 

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again, over him. 

I know that it breaks your heart when I cry again, instead of ghosting him.

He let you scream, sob, hurl accusations. He just stood there, feeling helpless as he had no way of erasing your anxiety. After all this time, you still didn’t feel like enough – for him, for anyone. Always doubting, always fearful of time repeating itself. 

“I would never do that to you.” Brian reminded you, as he had done so many times before. Your chest heaved up and down, breathing uneven from crying. He had just returned from Queen’s first gig since you and Roger had split up, and paranoia about the girls that loitered around their dressing rooms had consumed you. Feeling your knees buckle underneath you, you collapsed into his arms. “God, I’m so sorry.” You cried, and his arms tightened around you. “It’s ok, it’s going to take you a while to be able to trust again.” Brian soothed, kissing your forehead. “I can wait.” He assured, as you pulled his lips to yours by his neck.

 “It’s late.” You realised, looking at the clock on the wall. “But not too late.” Brian sang, and you laughed as you both got changed into your pyjamas. Slipping under the duvet, you naturally rested on his shoulder, his chin on the top of your head. “Play me a song.” You murmured, wrapping one arm over his waist. It had become routine for him to do this, pretend your arm was his fretboard and stroke your skin like the strings. The sensation was relaxing, luring you to sleep as Brian hummed the tune softly. 

Moonlight slipped through the gap in the curtains of what was now your shared bedroom, stars shining in the cloudless sky. Before you drifted into your dreams, you kissed Brian’s collarbone nonchalantly, and said what Brian had longed to hear for two years.

We’ll get through this, 

we’ll get past this, 

I’m a girl with a whole lot of baggage, 

but I love you. 

We’ll get past this, I’m a girl with a whole lot of baggage.

“I love you.”

your nudes are child pornography 

people you send them to can be charged with possession of child pornography

you can be charged with distribution of child pornography