angel | dealor

thirteen

early update today because I'm wide awake and slightly intoxicated which also means i have not proofread this chapter before publishing please hmu with any mistakes

My heart was pounding in my chest, the adrenaline already pumping as I prepared myself for our performance. It was our first proper performance as a group, and it was in front of a panel of judges, as well as a live audience. Well, the audience was around fifty people, and the majority were parents watching their kids compete, so it was hardly a rowdy crowd.

Still, it got me excited. I'd not played for an audience in a long time. I just had to hope the makeup on my face would hold form, and the newly formed scabs on my knuckles would stay intact. I'd already had one incident with them bleeding again and, quite frankly, it hurt to hold the sticks. I'd had to take John's bandages off because they restricted my hands too much.

I checked over the setup of my drums again, although it had already been done about fifty times and I knew they were in perfect position. They were stood just off the side of the stage, on a wheeled platform, ready to just be pushed onto the stage when the other group had finished. Which sounded like it would be soon.

"Ready, boys?" Freddie asked, excitedly bouncing on his toes. Both guitarists nodded at him, wide grins on their faces.

"Of course, Fred. We've worked hard enough for this moment, might as well make it good," Brian said, all of us muttering in agreement. I noticed John didn't have much to say, so pulled him closer and had a quick glance around before pressing a sneaky kiss to his forehead.

"Don't worry, baby. We've got this. You'll be perfect," I whispered, smiling as I spoke. I was trying my best to sound as genuine as possible, for I really meant what I was saying. John was a far better bass player than he gave himself credit for. We were all shocked when he first played for us, having assumed he only knew a couple of chords from the way he spoke about his skills. He wouldn't even accept any of our compliments.

I let out a squeal when I noticed the other band heading towards us, suddenly feeling my stomach twist with nerves. It was time. Our one chance to make an impression.

Well, 'one chance' is a little bit of a hyperbole. We were only sixteen (with the exception of Freddie, who had already had his seventeenth birthday), so we had plenty of time to improve ourselves and keep playing music, but I prefer the tension of only having one chance.

One of the assistants tapped my shoulder and asked if I'd help push the drums onstage, to which I obviously obliged. I felt a little nervous heading out onto the stage without the rest of the band, as silly as it seems. It's hardly like I was playing a solo, just moving the drum kit. Still, it freaked me out a little, and I think John could sense it by the reassuring smile he gave me, nodding as if to tell me everything would be okay.

Everything was going to be okay.

I helped the assistant move the kit, making a quick swap with the previous drums that the last drummer was pushing in the direction we'd come from. Once mine were in place we gave him a hand, giving me a chance to jog back over to the band for one last reassurance. Oddly enough, it came from Brian.

"Let's kill 'em, boys. Kill 'em, kill 'em."

We all grinned at each other, having a quick group hug before we were hurried onto the stage to perform. Once both guitars had been set up and I'd gotten the thumbs up from all three of my band mates, I began my assault of the drums, a grin on my face.

Although it was hardly a rave, there was still a thrill associated with performing for a crowd. The only face I managed to spot before we'd begun our song was my mother's, and just knowing she was there and supporting us made me want to play than I ever had before. I guess you could call me a mummy's boy. I'd not seen my dad since the divorce, and it had been just my mum and myself since then. We'd always had each other's backs, even though sometimes we pissed each other off.

The song was over far too quickly, and even though we'd only played one song I could already feel beads of sweat on my forehead, and my chest was heaving. With all of the adrenaline rushing through my veins, I hadn't noticed the wounds on my knuckles reopen with the force of which I was holding the sticks and bashing them against the skins of the drums. It was only when I looked down and noticed the blood on my snare, where I'd rested my hands after the final hit. Fuck.

We listened to a couple of comments from the judges, almost completely positive, before rushing back off of the stage. The same assistant came to help move the drums, and I had to call Brian over to push with him, for I certainly couldn't do it myself. Now that I'd noticed the injury, I was also noticing that it hurt. A lot. My hands were bleeding, and I still needed to take the kit apart.

"John? Can you give us a hand?" I murmured, waiting until he'd put his bass back in his bag before asking for assistance. He smiled that adorable smile of his, heading over to me.

"'Course. What's- Oh." He noticed my hands and instantly seemed to freak out. "Uh, I don't... Do you think they have a first aid kit?" John asked, looking up at me. I couldn't help but crack a smile, even panicky he was adorable.

"I bet someone could wrap it up for us, but... That's not the problem, I still need to move everything to the car, and I can hardly move my hands.." I spoke quietly, not wanting to attract too much attention. Although, I could tell they wanted my drums off of the platform so another group could set up.

"Don't worry. We'll sort it, just find someone to patch you up, okay?" John murmured, gently squeezing my arm. The gesture made me smile, it was subtle enough to look friendly to anyone else, but inside it meant much more than simple reassurance. Stupid as it sounds, it made me feel loved.

"Okay.. Okay, sure. Don't break anything? And-And watch the snare, it's, uh..." I looked down at the drum, biting my lip. "A bit dirty?"

John pulled a face at the sight of the blood on the drum, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, Rog. It'll all be fine, promise."

I gave him one more wide smile, saying our farewells before I started to wind my way through the small crowd, looking for any staff member who looked able to help with my predicament, all the while praying to god that those imbeciles wouldn't hurt my precious drums.

———

"And finally, in first place.." The head judge began to speak just as the applause died down for the band in second place. I grabbed Freddie and John's hands (albeit weakly, my hands had been re-bandaged) and shot Brian a grin. Part of me didn't want to get my hopes up, but part of me was excited. Surely we'd done well enough to get into top five, and we hadn't placed fifth to second. I bounced on my toes whilst we waited, the suspense killing me.

"Queen!"

Queen.

We won. We won!

The four of us all cheered (well, it was more of a squeal from Freddie and I) and shared a group hug before heading up to the stage. I couldn't help but grin as I listened to the cheering. Someone yelled 'Go Roger!' And I knew exactly who it was before I had a chance to turn around and smile at her.

My mum, always my number one fan.

We accepted our prize and stood on the stage for some photos before we were ushered to the side of the stage to officiate the prize giving. And I still couldn't believe we'd managed to do it. It was somewhere amongst this hullabaloo that Freddie pulled us aside.

"We need to celebrate, boys. You know Tim, from my art class? He's having a party tonight. We're gonna get absolutely shitfaced."