The party was already too loud. Music was shaking the walls, people yelled over each other, and the thick smell of alcohol, cigarettes, and cheap perfume filled the air.

Freddie was sitting beside you on the couch, half-listening to whatever Cook was rambling about while absentmindedly drawing circles against your knee with his thumb. Comfortable. That was the dangerous part; Freddie always got softer and less guarded when he was comfortable around you, which meant he also got hurt easier.

You were laughing at something JJ said when Cook suddenly leaned across the table dramatically.

“See? That’s what I’m saying” he pointed at you. “You get me.”

You laughed. “Honestly? You understand me better than Freddie sometimes.”

The second the words left your mouth, you felt it. Freddie’s hand stopped moving against your knee.

Cook burst out laughing immediately.

“OHHH, mate-”

“Shut up” Freddie muttered automatically. Too calm.

You looked at him. “Freddie—”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

But it wasn’t. Freddie had this thing he did whenever something hurt him, he smiled a thin, polite smile like he didn’t care, which was way worse than if he’d just gotten angry. As the conversation kept going, he got quieter and quieter, giving one-word answers with his eyes fixed somewhere else. Then, eventually, he stood up.

“I’m going outside.”

“OI, don’t get emo now” Cook mocked, but Freddie flipped him off without looking back and slammed the door. Your stomach twisted. You knew that silence, and you knew Freddie well enough to understand what was underneath it.

You found him behind the house, sitting on the back steps in the freezing night air with a cigarette burning between his fingers. He barely looked at you. “You okay?”

“Fantastic.”

You sat beside him carefully. For a few seconds, neither of you spoke while the music from inside echoed faintly through the walls. Finally, jaw tight, he muttered:

“You always do that.”

You frowned slightly. “Do what?”

“Make me feel fucking stupid. You say shit like that in front of everyone and then act surprised when I get weird.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I was joking.”

“I know.” Freddie laughed softly under his breath, trying hard not to let himself care too much. But Freddie cared about everything too much. Especially you. He rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "“It’s embarrassing, you know that? How obvious I am about you. You disappear for days sometimes, and then you show up and suddenly my whole mood depends on whether you look at me for more than five seconds.”*

You swallowed hard. Freddie finally looked at you then, and God, that expression. He looked hurt in the most horribly way possible, like his feelings were too big for his body.

“I hate when people notice it” he admitted, his voice cracking slightly. "“And then you say Cook understands you better than me in front of everyone? Do you have any idea how pathetic that makes me look?”*