I still love you | Maylor fanfiction

1

Roger's P.O.V.

I hit the final cymbal, letting the sound fade out into the silence. With my head fallen back and eyes closed, I waited for my breath to slow down to its natural pace, in the calming peace of the dark, empty stage.
I opened my eyes again, letting my gaze fall down to the audience, which was just in few hours going to turn into a lively crowded place. Now, forty minutes before the bar was opening, no customers, or any of the service were present, except me.

In exchange for some pounds from my salary, I persuaded the owner to always let me in some time earlier than anyone else was allowed to, and let me practice on the drums which were in ownership of the club. I took few music lessons, and learnt how to play when I was younger, back in my hometown. I fell in love with drums so much, that I spent all my money on my own set, playing in the garage every time I had the chance. With few friends we formed an amateur band, not very successful, but still a great and fun experience. However, my friends didn't take it so seriously as I did, and soon we broke up. In addition to that, I went off to college, had to get an apartment and a part-time job to be able to pay the rent. Which, to be honest, was still a bit too expensive for me, but I couldn't find neither a cheaper rent, or a roommate to share with. Taking my drums with me was an idea completely out of the blue- no available transport as I didn't had any van or a even driving license, or any spare time as I was struggling to only zigzag from school to job twenty four seven. For some time, I didn't play at all, but then I got this idea and convinced Mr. Smith, so I got back to it.

It could be a month or so when I picked up drumming again, so I still was recovering from the long break, but I was quickly improving. However, sometimes I wondered that even though it helped me to get all my emotions out, calmed me down and I simply just loved it, I didn't know where is this all going to head to when I'm never going to use all what I've learned properly. I didn't think about actual quitting, but those thoughts still sometimes entered my head and were hard to get rid off.

I got out of the stage, shoveling drum sticks, my only belonging here linked to playing, in my bag. In the dressing room, I changed from my clothes, soaked with sweat, to clean ones,
Afterwards, I quickly prepared the tables a bit, put on some background music and opened the front door, to let my coworkers, and later visitors in.

—————

It was about eleven p.m. and the place was at its peak. One of the bands that took turns on the stage was now performing, crowd on the dance floor jumping to their loud music. People came for shots, beers or so to the bar continuously, so we always had something to do.

I filled a glass after glass, taking money from the people, exchanging it for the precious alcohol. Jealousy for the people who simply just came here to enjoy their Friday afternoon with a drink in their hand, good music, and an acceptable chick afterwards was building up inside me during every single of my shifts all over again. I wished to just take a break, grab a tequila and enjoy some of the concerts too. Just for a single night, have a rest. But I couldn't allow it. I was too short on money for that.

"Hey blondie," Greg, one of my collaborators shouted at me from the other side of the bar. "You have a customer, dumbass."
I ignored his stupid insults, and looked up from the glass I was currently washing. There was a guy, leaning against the counter, with a slight smirk in his face, waiting for me to notice him probably for a long time now. I must have really got away with my thoughts.

I recognized this guy. He came here quite often, always by himself. He didn't even talk much or dance with others, well honestly I wasn't surprised. According to his slightly darker skin tone, he clearly wasn't from Britain and must have immigrated here with his family or something. His figure was skinny, so he could possibly attract girls, but his huge front teeth obviously acted very differently, may have caused that getting to know people was more difficult for him.