REAL WORLD: Mark Wilson is inspired by Mark David Chapman, the mythomaniac who killed John Lennon. The day after the murder, Queen, in honor of the recently deceased artist, played “Imagine” during one of their concerts at Wembley.
FANTASY: Mark Wilson is a guy with very low self-esteem, but thanks to Queen concerts he learns to believe in himself and finds his reason for living.
Mark Wilson 01: Piece of trash
“You’re worthless, a piece of trash!” That’s how they used to talk to me at home since school days, no matter how much effort I put into my studies. To my parents I was the unwanted child and they only had eyes for my sister Virginia, even turning her against me from when we were kids.
“You’re a total disappointment, a disgrace to the family! You’ll find someone who loves you eventually, but remember: they’ll only feel sorry for you.”
And it wasn’t any different in class: I was either ridiculed or, at best, ignored. If I ever raised my hand to ask a question, there would be instant laughter and superstitious gestures as if I brought bad luck.
Only one person seemed to respect me: Andrew, sitting in the back row. He worked hard in every subject, didn’t even leave for breaks, preferring to stay inside studying. He wore gym clothes on sports days to avoid the locker room, where the other guys would mock him.
But the more Andy kept his distance, the more bullies targeted him. Four in particular had singled him out, a tight-knit group everyone apparently feared at school: Raymond, Bogdan, Kevin, and Floyd.
They called him “sissy” because he was always kind to everyone and never reacted to provocation, even when Raymond shoved him away. “You don’t punch your opponents,” was Andy’s rule. “Words hurt more, if you know how to use them.”
It was the same old routine every day at school, and I shared with Andy my passion for music. We dreamed of seeing Queen live concerts, though we both knew how expensive tickets were, and how hard it was to find them.
Then one morning in 1985, everything changed. Shortly after break, Andy left the classroom, and what were usually two minutes for a bathroom trip became five, then ten. After half an hour, the history teacher interrupted her lesson and called on me:
“Wilson, please go find the student Jones? Maybe he’s not feeling well!”
“If Andy were sick, he wouldn’t even be here,” I thought, but I nodded and left the classroom. I wasn’t worried because the bullies had skipped school that morning, as they often did.
I slowly walked down the hallway. It seemed like a normal day with the usual flow of people passing by without giving me a glance as I called out for my friend. But there was no sign of Andrew.
I checked the males’ and females’ bathrooms, pushed on to the teachers’ lounge under the scrutinizing gaze of the physics teacher, only to hear the same thing: “Andrew Jones? Haven’t seen him, don’t know anything.” It seemed like the good guy, the model student, had disappeared into thin air.
I returned to the classroom and his desk was empty, but his backpack remained, a silent witness to his sudden disappearance. I felt a chill run down my spine. “I’ll go check outside,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Something was wrong, I just knew it.
I barely made it to the schoolyard when I heard their cruel laughter. I followed the sound and found Andy cornered by the bullies behind a wall.
“Leave him alone!” I shouted, springing into action. I ran at them without second thoughts.
“Oh yeah?” Raymond sneered, wearing his usual arrogant face. “Why? What are you gonna do, little faggot?”
“Come on, loser,” Floyd chimed in. “Defend your little girlfriend if you’ve got the guts!”
“I have nothing to lose!” I screamed at them, and punched Raymond right in the nose.
The bully staggered back, while Kevin and Bogdan tried to hold me down.
I was stunned by Andy’s sudden outburst. “Who’s the sissy now?” he yelled, charging at the four of them and throwing punches, kicks, and spit. Raymond lost his footing trying to dodge me and ended up eating dirt.
So caught up in the brawl, we didn’t notice the history teacher and the principal creeping up on us. “We don’t care who started this,” they said, their voices heavy. “You’re all suspended for two weeks.”
“Who gives a shit?” Raymond shot back at the principal, his busted lip doing nothing to dampen his spirit, but for the first time, I saw a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
That wasn’t the last time Andy and I went head-to-head with Raymond and his crew, but standing up to the school’s “top dogs” made us realize there was something deeper between us, something way beyond friendship.
We didn’t give a damn what people thought anymore. We ignored the nasty graffiti and the insults. We were strong, in love, and ready to face anything together.
If you can’t beat them, join them
It was a sweet spring day, and the warm air was begging us to get outside. Sitting in class during break while the sun was shining felt like a total waste, so Andy and I snuck behind the old school wall, our usual secret spot for a quick make-out.
We’d barely settled when we heard some familiar voices. Raymond and his crew had stopped a few meters away, their chatter sounding way more relaxed than usual. Maybe they hadn’t seen us, or maybe we weren’t funny anymore? Instead of ditching them, we stayed put, trying to catch what they were talking about.
“Alright, guys, listen up,” Raymond said in his usual cocky voice. “I’ve just got word. Wembley, Queen, July ’86.”
“No way,” Andy whispered in my ear. “I wish! Come on, Mark, let’s stay here and listen!”
“…I’ve got the tickets,” the bully continued. “And they’re not just any tickets…”
His three friends shook their heads, looking at him like he was nuts. They hadn’t spotted us yet, so we pressed ourselves against the wall, our ears tuned in.
“Freddie told me he’ll be waiting for us backstage.”
“Freddie?” Bogdan burst out laughing. “You’re still on that? Are you serious? Do you think we actually believe you?”
Raymond Spencer Still, the most popular guy in school, getting teased by his own friends? This was too good to miss.
Bogdan flipped him the bird, and amused, Andy and I stepped out, giving him the same finger.
But Raymond didn’t even flinch. “Laugh it up, Bogdan. You’ll see. Freddie and I are tight. He said he wants to get to know me better. You wanna come to the concert or keep living in your little world?”
Kevin and Floyd exchanged incredulous looks. “Sure, Ray,” Kevin said. “And then after the concert, we’ll go grab a beer with the whole band, right?”
“You’re all idiots,” retorted Raymond, raising his voice. “You don’t understand a damn thing. I’m friends with Freddie Mercury. When we’re at Wembley, you’ll all thank me. Wanna bet?”
Andy and I were speechless. Queen, Wembley… a dream that could come true. But the idea of asking Raymond, of all people, to go together was absurd. And yet, the thought of missing such an opportunity tormented us.
“I don’t get why they make fun of him,” Andy spoke softly, giving me a slight smile. “Even if Ray only knows the Wembley janitor, it’s still better than nothing.”
Just then, Raymond took a step towards us, catching us by surprise: “and to prove it’s true, look, I’m even willing to invite…” he paused, his index finger pointing at me.
“Listen, Ray,” said Floyd, shaking his head. “You can say whatever you want, I don’t care, but those two… uh, you know who I mean, do you really think it’s a good idea to invite them? Yeah? I don’t want to spend the concert third-wheeling a couple of fags. Got it?”
I bit my lip hard to keep from responding, my body almost burning with anger; I was ready to fight again, and only Andy’s hand gripping my shoulder kept me calm, though I knew he was furious too.
“Yeah, Ray, it’s ridiculous,” Kevin added. “What are two guys like them doing at a Queen concert? Don’t we already have enough trouble with people staring at us because of the way you dance?”
“So it’s true!” Andy and I exchanged a sly smile; guys like Ray become hostile because they’re as gay as we are, but they’re ashamed of it and envy our freedom.
Raymond took a step back and looked at them with an expression I didn’t expect. He seemed hurt. “Queen’s music is for everyone,” he said firmly. “Freddie is an artist who speaks to anyone who has a soul, a heart, and a lot of anger inside. Like us, and like them. I don’t care what you think. Mark and Andy are coming with us, whether you like it or not.”
Trust is good, but not trusting is better. What if this was a trap to humiliate us even more? I turned to walk away, and Andy grabbed my arm: “If you leave, we might miss this chance,” he warned me. “And you know what? If you don’t want to go, I’ll go without you. No matter what.”
Bogdan raised an eyebrow. “Wait, Ray, are you serious? You want to bring them to the concert with us? The ones you kicked last month?”
Ray shrugged, with an arrogant smirk. “Of course. They’re losers, okay, but they love Queen. And you know what that means? When we’re all there, and Freddie looks at us, I’ll be the one he remembers because I brought some more people to see his performances. It’s all about appearances, guys. And I never miss a chance to show off.”
“There’s the Ray we know,” Andy smiled at me. “He wants to use us to look good? Perfect, we’ll use him for our dream! You scratch my back, I scratch yours!” We high-fived in front of the four bullies.
“So what do we do?” Raymond asked again. “I need to take my steps within two, three days tops. Take it or leave it!”
Bogdan, Kevin, and Floyd didn’t seem convinced. “You’re crazy, Ray. Everyone will make fun of us if they see us with them. Those two are…”
Raymond raised his hand, cutting them off. “God, you guys are idiots. I don’t leave anyone behind, no matter how much I dislike them, when there’s an opportunity like this. Don’t screw this up with your bullshit. I want to make a good impression, and they’re coming with us. End of discussion.”
Kevin sighed, but said nothing more. Floyd grimaced. “Fine, Ray, but don’t come crying when we become the laughingstock of the whole school.”
The conversation ended there, and the four of them walked away, laughing among themselves. I stood still for a moment, then looked at my boyfriend, who seemed more shocked than I was.
“Unbelievable,” Andy exclaimed. “The jerk who beats us up actually wants to take us to Wembley, can you believe it, babe?”
“I’m not sure what’s weirder,” I added, “the fact that he’s inviting us or that he seems genuinely proud to have us with him.”
Andy chuckled. “Well, if you can’t beat them…”
“…join them,” I finished. “Music works miracles.”
The concert
When Raymond handed us the tickets, Andy and I were speechless. Wembley, front row. We couldn’t believe it. We were finally living our lifetime dream thanks to our eternal enemy, and we didn’t care if, even on this occasion, he and his faithful followers continued to make fun of us. Their sneering laughter was a high price to pay, but certainly less than the large amount of real money we couldn’t ever afford.
The night of the concert, Wembley was packed: thousands of people with different stories, thoughts, and cultures, all united by the excitement of this unique event. “Music brings people together, you see?” I whispered to my partner; “who knows how many people like us are sitting next to those who bully them?”
We took our seats. Us, Raymond, his three friends, and we noticed another group settling immediately to our right: four girls and a young guy accompanied by an adult man. They seemed as passionate as we were, and they were softly singing along to Queen’s hits while waiting for the show to start. At one point, I thought I saw Raymond exchange glances with the man from the other group, but I quickly looked away because the strangers were focused only on themselves and the stage, especially the girls for whom we counted for less than zero.
When “One Vision”‘s first notes echoed through the arena, the audience erupted in thunderous applause. Andy and I jumped to our feet, our voices blending with those of other fans. Then Freddie Mercury appeared in all his glory, moving on stage as if he were at home.
Even Raymond and the other bullies had lost their sarcasm and arrogance, mesmerized as they were by the music and the charisma of that brilliant artist.
The moment of “Radio Ga Ga” arrived and thousands of hands clapped in rhythm; it was Andy’s favorite and he, eyes fixed on the musicians, sang the lyrics he knew by heart out loud.
I’d sit all alone and watch your light, my only friend through teenage nights.
… and everything I had to know, I heard it on my radio…
… You made us feel like we could fly.
After the first chorus, Andrew stretched out his arms and stared at Freddie: “Radio, someone still loves you!” The singer noticed and returned him a knowing look.
It was a fleeting, instantaneous contact, but with an intensity that left me uneasy: emotion, jealousy, I couldn’t even explain myself what I was feeling; I only understood that the moment for Andy and Freddie was magical, whatever their gazes hid.
One song after another, the event continued to thrill us: “Bohemian Rhapsody,” “We Will Rock You,” “We are the champions”… Everyone sang at the top of their lungs, carried away by the crowd and the music. But that brief eye contact between Andy and Freddie refused to leave my mind.
Safety exit
As the final chords faded and the crowd began to disperse, Raymond turned to us with a determined glint in his eye. “It’s time,” he said, his voice low and urgent, “let’s go see Freddie.”
I exchanged a nervous glance with Andy. Ray seemed so confident, but could he really pull this off? We followed him, our hearts pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
We approached the VIP entrance, only to be stopped by a burly security guard. “Hold it right there,” he barked. “No fans allowed. This area is off-limits.”
Raymond puffed out his chest. “I’m a friend of Freddie’s,” he insisted, “he’s expecting me.”
The guard scoffed. “Oh yeah? Well, you could be the King and you still wouldn’t get in without a pass. Now scram!”
Ray started arguing, and soon Bogdan and Floyd joined in, but the guard was unmoved. He pointed to a group of fans who had just been allowed in, “See that VIP pass? You need one of those.”
Andy and I stepped back, watching the drama unfold. Ray was making a spectacle of himself and we couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. What if they actually managed to get in? We stayed hidden, our eyes glued to the entrance, hoping for a miracle.
The encounter
Once Ray and his crew disappeared among the crowd, I watched people walking away one by one. Where had the mysterious group gone? They sat next to us, and then? Did they really manage to access the dressing rooms?
Finally, I saw them coming out from the emergency exit; first the guy then the girls, all escorted by the adult man. They were drenched in sweat, looking completely wiped out, but they were moving too fast to make out any more details.
“This is all going to shit,” I muttered, resting my head on Andy’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t have trusted Ray, I knew it! Let’s get out of here!”
“NO!” he yelled, his voice filled with anger. “Or if you want to leave, I’ll stay here until he comes out! You have Freddie Mercury right there, and you’re thinking of leaving? Are you out of your mind?”
It was the first time Andrew had ever yelled at me like that, and it shook me to my core. “I’m such a loser. You deserve so much better!”
He forced a bitter smile and started to respond, but just then, a door slammed open a few meters away.
“Oh, fuck, look who…” Words died in my throat as I turned to look at the dressing room. There he was, all sweaty and disheveled, his makeup smeared. Freddie Mercury, looking completely exhausted from the concert and maybe something more, was just wandering around.
With no hesitation, I moved towards him. The closer I got, the more I realized how incredibly human he was: he smelled, he breathed, he sweat, just like anyone else. He no longer was the untouchable god I’d seen on stage. He was a vulnerable man, someone I could hold, someone I could kiss.
Disregarding Andy standing beside me, I reached out for Freddie, “You’re mine,” I growled, my voice low and urgent. “Mark me. Make me yours.”
Freddie turned to look at me, his eyes filled with a pity that cut deep. Shaking his head he took a step back, as if I was nothing but a speck of dust. I was a nobody, and the person I loved the most in this world had just confirmed it.
“Then at least let me look at you!” I pleaded, but he blatantly ignored me. His gaze, however, shifted when it met my partner’s.
A moment of silence stretched between them, a surreal connection forming. Freddie took a few steps towards Andrew and, with a slow, deliberate gesture, extended his hand.
Stunned, Andy hesitated for a moment before taking Freddie’s hand with surprising calm. Their eyes locked, their hands intertwined; it was as if an invisible thread connected their souls, an ancient force drawing them together like magnets.
For minutes, they stood in silence, their hands clasped in a warm embrace that made me feel utterly insignificant. My Andrew deserved so much better; I could never compete with Freddie Mercury.
I watched, unable to intervene, as Freddie slowly withdrew his hand. Their movements were deliberate, as if they were carefully dismantling a delicate structure. Without a word, Freddie returned to the dressing room, leaving Andy standing in the doorway, his eyes brimming with tears.
Don’t touch me!
It was nearly day when a taxi took us home. Throughout the journey, Andy was distant and silent. His face was like a mask of ice. He paid the taxi driver and opened the door to our apartment, where we had been living together recently.
Reaching our bedroom, I approached him, hoping to break the ice. “Andy, are you okay?” I asked, worried. “Are you tired? Come on, let’s go to sleep. It’s been a long day.”
I reached out to him, but he pulled away, his head shaking. “Not now, Mark,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I can’t… I need some space. I’m sleeping… on the couch.”
I understood everything. It was all so clear. Yet, I wanted to hear him confirm it. “But… what happened with Freddie? What did he tell you?”
Andy looked away. “There’s nothing to explain,” he whispered. “It’s just that … I don’t want to be touched … I don’t want YOU to touch me. Not tonight.”
His words felt like a dagger to my heart. I stood there, frozen, as he walked away toward the living room without looking back.
There was nothing I could say or do to fill the void that had grown between us. Freddie had understood Andy in a way I never could, and that night, for the first time since we had been together, I felt truly alone.
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