I still love you | Maylor fanfiction

9

John's P.O.V.

My head was pounding as hell and my legs were uncomfortably weak, tangling as I was walking down the street from the bus stop towards the bar Black hole, where Roger was working and where he should pick us up.
I had a big gap in my mind instead of yesterday's evening. I never experienced being drunk before, but I did secretly hope for this state, and it did satisfy me, even though it was dreadfully too short. I had to get away from all the stress that was wearing me out- just forget for a while and get finally a short rest. But in the morning, it was all back again, with an additional terrible headache.

"Hi Fred," I greeted the singer standing leaned against the door frame of the bar, already waiting for the others.
"Hello my Deaky boy," he answered with a small voice and a groggy smile, wrapping his hands around me in a quick hug.
"You kind of partied there yesterday," he chuckled with raised eyebrows.
I looked down with my cheeks flashing red in embarrassment.
"Yeah, kind of."
His smile disappeared immediately. As always, he instantly knew that something was wrong.
"Are you alright?" He asked, trying to meet with my gaze which was wandering on the ground.
"Yes, I'm fine," I lied, but somehow I didn't have the strength to pull of a fake smile or even try to sound convincing.
"Aw, my little Deaks," Freddie pulled me into a hug once more, warm and cozy. "You know you can tell me anything, anytime, right? I will do my best to help you."
I stood there, zoned out, lower lip trembling, inhaling his exotic aroma end sinking in the warmth of his body.
I blinked a few times to sweep the tears, which started to build up in my eyes away, and bit in my lower lip to prevent it from moving.
"Yes. Thank you Fred."

"How's your hangover going, huh?!" Came the loudest scream in the history of screams, making us both jerk ourselves, as sharp pain ran through our minds, from the car which whooshed into the street and stopped in front if us, windows pulled down.
"Roger, you dick!" The singer massaged his forehead as he grasped on his suitcase and angrily stomped towards the van.
As a response came a hysterical laugh of two teenage boys at the front seats, not able to stop until we all settled inside, and started slowly driving towards the club, where we had a gig tonight.

Roger's P.O.V.

My palms started sweating as we slowly happened to get nearer and nearer to the night club, and I could feel my heart race reaching a dangerous pace, but I tried my damn best to hide everything behind a wide smile and dirty comments.
"So, my dears," came from the back seat, and as I shot a look into the rearview mirror, I could see the singer getting out of his bag a flask of cheap red wine, and few plastic cups. "I thought we should somehow toast for good luck."
I felt the taste of the dark liquid in his hands on my tongue and immediately, my throat went dry, pleading desperately for the alcohol. He started pouring four shots carefully and slowly, so that he wouldn't spill anything on the bumpy ride, and I eyeballed him the whole time, paying attention more to him that the road, inpatient for when I finally get my drink.

"Roger," woke me Brian out of the trance, frowning worriedly. "Road."
"Yeah sure," I mumbled, gripping the steering wheel tightly, fixating my eyes on the road ahead of me, keeping myself from the urge to turn around and look once more.
"Here are your love potions gentlemen," Freddie announced, finally handing the cups over. I ripped mine out of his hand, gulping it down with thirst, the liquor spilling warmth in my chest and sending shivers down my spine. I let out a sigh as my legs stopped shivering and my heartbeat slightly slowed down.

Soon, I pulled over at the back door of the club. Without hesitation we grabbed all our stuff and started preparing ourselves, and the backstage for our concert. The place was already full of people and life when we got there, and when we were finished with preparation, we still had about ten minutes left, before the performing band ended their gig, and it was our turn to go.
At the moment when I finished working, and I suddenly had nothing to do and keep my mind on, all the worries came back. With panic, stress and nausea. I needed another drink.
"Hey, I'm gonna go take a piss," I informed shortly the rest of the band and rushed into the crowd at the dance floor. Instead of turning right and diving deeper into the club, I continued through the gathering and pierced to the bar bench.