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Peace Lovin' Guy

Chapter Text

1 ~ lightweight ~

/ /

October, 1972

"It would be so nice of you if I could have a teensy sip of that, hun."

I looked across at Emma, who was already into her third glass of Rosé of the evening, and I hadn't even put my shoes on yet. I knew I would be slipping on the spilt drink at some point the next day, the kitchen tiles splashed with Emma's beverage. It wasn't exactly a huge flat, which made it even more difficult for me to retrieve my converse from the doorstep. Emma was dancing and singing to our favourite song at the time: Immigrant Song by the ever-amazing Led Zeppelin.

"I swear there's nobody... NOBODY better than Zed Leppelin!" Emma slurred slightly; one Doc Marten short. That's my best friend.

"Yes. We love a bit of Zed Leppelin." I answered bluntly, but inevitably laughed at her. I propped myself up onto the kitchen counter, face to face with the mirror on the wall ahead of me, applying the rest of my make up on with attempted precision. It looked the best it could do at that point. I was able to get a sip of Emma's drink at one point, but not nearly enough to be as wankered as she was.

"Maria!! This is my favourite bit – Aaaaaahhhhhaaa!" Emma screeched so out of tune it was kind of unbelievable.

As I hopped off the counter, I belted out the outro with Emma, who had finally found her other Doc Marten.

"So now you better stop! And rebuild all your ruins!" With a laugh, I switched off the record player, grabbing my keys and leading Emma out the door.

Yes, we hadn't even left the flat yet.

It was difficult to lead Emma in the right direction as we made our way to the local pub. She was such a mess when she was drunk. I had no idea what I would do if I got that drunk. With it being student night, it was 60p a pint. So, I wasn't laying any bets on me not getting drunk.

"Oh my Gooooddddd, it's so hot!!!"

"Emma, it's 10 degrees." I pulled her away from the road.

"I know, Maria, that's why I'm wearing this weather bucket."

"It's a leather jacket, Emma."

Stuff like that. The good thing was that as soon as we got to the pub, we'd be away from any roads, so I no longer had to be responsible for her destructive actions. It was usually the other way around, in all honesty. I wasn't used to be the one to look after Emma. Emma had always been a mother figure to me, even throughout college.

Despite the difficult 20-minute walk to the pub, I knew the night was going to be interesting to say the least. It was so nice to see so many students congregated in one pub, laughing, singing and having drinks together. It was always a popular way to forget the stress of your studies, especially since it was so hard to make a living in London. Why Emma and I chose to study in London seems to still slip my mind to this day. To many, events management wasn't even a real thing to study. I admit, it is a weird thing to get a degree in but it was interesting to say the least. It had its moments.

Our local pub was a converted barn, so the yellow lights mixed with the fair colour of the wood created a warm undertone to the entire building. It was cosy, and friendly to a point where it felt like a second home. I let go of Emma and she immediately stumbled over to the bar, where she snatched up a seat.

She's not moving from there for the rest of the night...

I sighed and shook my head as she instinctively made moves on the bartender. She needed it, the poor thing. She needed a good shag, to be honest, there's no other way to put it. I, on the other hand, now felt very awkward. I'd never been left alone in a pub before. But I didn't want to risk ruining things for Emma and the bartender, so I walked over to the other bar that was stood directly next to that one.

A few drinks, and I should be fine.

After ordering my pint, I turned around and leaned on the bar so that I could get a good look at my surroundings. I noticed the stage was cleared of tables. Another student band, it seemed. A lot of the bands formed at Imperial weren't exactly original, in all honesty. It wasn't necessarily bad music; it just wasn't anything worth buying in to. After 3 and a half pints, my nerves had soothed out and I was confident enough to move myself over to an empty table. I did look around briefly for Emma, but I noticed she was now sat with another guy, at the other side of the pub.

That girl, I swear to God.

I would have ventured for someone else that I knew, had the student band not made their entrance. So, I just stayed where I was, finally being able to occupy myself with listening to music rather than sitting alone and drinking.

"We're extremely thrilled to be here tonight!" The frontman, evidently tipsy, announced to everyone. Some people had intentionally stopped what they were doing in order to get a better view. It had me wondering, were they anything special? "I'm Freddie, I'm the important one who makes sure you all have a beautiful night, you beautiful people." He chuckled into the microphone, which was attached to a dissected stand. "John Deacon on bass," he pointed over to the smaller male, stood towards the back. "Of course, we have blondie on the drumssss!" Freddie hissed, as the blonde at the back stood up, earning a wave of cheers and squeals: predominantly from the females in the room. "What a tart, Roger." Freddie teased, before excessively gesturing towards the last person to come on stage. He was much taller than the rest of them and his hair was... voluminous to say the least. He was also extremely thin, but he made up for it when he held his guitar in front of him. "And this is Brian May on the gee-tar!"

"Tequila shots?? Only 50p each!" A bartender held out a circular tray with shot glasses scattered out amongst it. I really shouldn't, I thought, remembering I had a meeting with my professor the next day. But, alas, I have never been good at self-control – especially when it came to alcohol. I bought two shots and downed them almost instantly, my throat almost closing at the strong taste. I was not used to it at all. I coughed, slapping my hand against my mouth, peering back up at the band on stage.

All in all, they were a nice-looking set of boys. Each of them different, but beautiful in their own way. Roger was clearly the sex-icon of the group, although I personally didn't see it. Sure, as he drummed away, he was somewhat attractive. But not enough to make me weak at the knees. The guitarist, however, was in no way difficult to look at. You could see that intense concentration and passion fused together that created one of the best performances ever done by a student band. I must admit, they gave the others a run for their money. I do remember one song stuck in my head for the rest of the night, but I couldn't for the life of me remember what is was called. Therefore, I shouldn't drink.

Something about staying alive or something? Whatever it was, it was a fucking jam. I was honestly sad when it was over.

"Maria!" I almost jumped out of my seat, as I looked in the direction of the noise. I could only just see through blurry vision that it was an even more pissed Emma, plonking herself on the chair next to me.

"Where have you beeeen..."

"I've been right here, listening to the band people." I slurred, lazily waving my arm in the direction where the band was stood. "Where have you been... and why is your face red? Oh my God!! Are you bleeding?!?!?" I yelled, standing up, knocking the chair over with the back of my knees.

"Noooooo!" Emma joined me, standing up. "It's the lipstick... got a bit smudged."

"But you don't wear stip-lick.. uh, lipstick." I cackled at my drunken mistake, my head pounding as soon as I did. I whined, holding my head. I was now more pissed than Emma was. And that was an achievement.

"We should probably go home.. unless you wanna meet the guys who were just up on that stage thingy... that blonde was so pretty oh my God!!!"

"No, we should go home. I got a meeting with Professor Perv." I hissed, guiding myself towards the door.

"You know, sometimes I think you should just shag the professor... That's the closest you'll get to a boyfriend, Maria.." That was the thing about Emma, she was brutally honest. When she was off her head.

"That band didn't seem so bad... I'd shag allllll of them!" I screamed at Emma's words, as we both stumbled down the path, on the way back to the flat. "Emma, I have a thing for guitarists now, I—" Before I could finished my sentence, I hurled over into a bush, vomiting aggressively some of the alcohol back up. I'm such a lightweight. Emma tried her best to get my hair out the way, but it was already infused with my vomit. What a lovely sight I was.

"Maybe guitarists are into lightweights."

"What a wonderful world that would be."