Chapter Text
Can anybody find me somebody to love?
Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
(Take a look at yourself) Take a look in the mirror and cry (and cry)
Lord, what you're doing to me. *©
*
It starts at Christmas, like in some old fairy tale, or rather, just a short while before it when it turns out that almost every one of their entire little band is going to be in London at around the same time. Gwil lives there, Rami and Lucy are coming for the festivities, Ben is visiting his family for the Christmas break. The only one missing seems to be Mr Mazzello, which Ben is desperate to remedy, and before anyone else beats him to it, he calls Joe and invites him to join the party. Just to stay on the safe side and safeguard against Joe's possible excuse that he couldn't leave his mother all alone at Christmas, Ben suggests that he brings her along and they make it a family celebration.
Joe accepts it gladly enough, seemingly thrilled by the prospects of catching up with everyone, and promises Ben one hell of a present. His sheer enthusiasm is a little bit unsettling – bearing in mind Joe's love of pranks and jokes which have no limits whatsoever, Ben doesn't know whether to look forward to or dread it.
As it turns out, sticking to his reputation of being an accomplished troll, Joe has dragged him that blasted cardboard cutout the entire Bohemian Rhapsody fan base is losing their shit about. It's decorated with all kinds of stickers, postcards from Japan, some acidly coloured candy wraps with hieroglyphs, and messages from everyone who took part in that promotional tour Ben had to miss.
"What the hell is this?" he asks when Joe extracts the monstrosity out of his suitcase, for the life of him unable to suppress an utterly stupid grin.
"Your postcard from Japan," Joe smirks, stuffing the cardboard Ben into his hands. It's exactly his height. "Since you missed all the fun and this was your official representative out there, you are entitled to have him as a memory."
"Won't it be too hard on you, huh?" Ben laughs. "I've heard you've grown rather fond of each other?"
A crooked smirk appears on Joe's lips, and Ben knows it, knows it oh so well. It's a tell-tale signal of Joe Mazzello's sense of humour coming for your ass. And here it comes, of course.
"Well, I have you both now, right here," he deadpans and gives him a wink.
In response to that, Ben rolls his eyes, demonstratively enough to show what exactly he thinks of it all. He aims for exasperation but, unbeknownst to himself, ends up looking more wistful rather than anything else.
"This joke's getting old, you know?"
"Who says it's a joke?" Joe's eyes widen in fake surprise. "You're hurting my feeling, mate!"
And you're hurting mine, you troll, Ben thinks to himself in frustration but doesn't say so out loud.
*