I still love you | Maylor fanfiction

3

Freddie's P.O.V.

"I play the piano, that's all," I answered Roger's question while I was with John helping him to clear up the stage and prepare it for the first performing band, which should arrive in about fourty minutes, visitors in half of that time.
"You know any guitar player?" He asked, voice muffled as he was taking of his sweaty shirt, to exchange it for a new one, in which he could serve the customers.
"No, not yet," I replied, getting off the stage as its cleaning was finished by now and took my unfinished champagne from the bar counter instead. I sat on one of the chairs near the bar, took a sip and watched the other two boys rush around, as I had nothing else to do at that moment.

Guitar player was the one thing that I was missing. Of course I knew many guitar players, but they just weren't good enough, or didn't have the right will. I lied to Roger about how I found him, I wouldn't bother with talking to the manager and trying to convince him about some shit. I was just passing by the club once before it's opening hours and through the half-opened front door heard him play. I stayed there, peeking in for his whole practice, and the next day came again to see it one more time. That was enough for me to be sure about what came into my mind in the first second I heard him- that he had the talent, the skill and the will to make it. I knew I needed to have him in my band.
A friend told me about John, with who he was going to the same school. He claimed he played well, so I once came to visit his practice and god, he was right. When I talked to John, he immediately agreed to be in the band, as he recently left one.
We only needed a guitar player. No amplifiers, cables or any electronics. Just that one person who will perfectly fill all my expectations. And I was sure that sooner or later, in the end he will turn up.

"We will find him," John assured him with a smile. "There are millions of guitars players in England."
"But only one is the one we need, darling," I objected, taking a sip from my drink. "But I agree, we sure will get him."
"Let's just hope, it will be still in this century," Roger mumbled and closed his bag, shoveling it into his dressing room.
"Will we have a practice tomorrow?" The youngest boy asked, while he in a rush zipped the package of his bass, with the instrument inside and started pushing his arms in a thick coat.
"I think it's a good thing to do, even if we don't have the last member yet. At least we will synchronize," I answered, shrugging my shoulders.
"So the same time?"
"Yes. If you're okay with it?"
They both nodded their heads with a slight smile.

"Will you stay for some of the concerts?" Roger asked and with a loud crack landed one of the chairs, placed on top of tables, on the ground, swinging it towards the wall, continuing this process with all of the furniture inside. Due to the much later ending of our practice than we expected, he was working in a rush, grasping the objects and throwing them on the ground with loud creaking, making me wonder how the hell it was possible for it to survive.
"I will, for a while," I said and finally got up from my spot, giving up on waiting for him to ask and helped him with preparing the room. "Then I have a date."

Mary was my girlfriend for about three months now. She was the greatest person on earth, a pure, delicate being the angels sent here on earth from the skies. She was the one and only for me, I couldn't imagine my life without her. She was the love of my life.

"Oooh," Roger grinned evilly at me. "You're having fun tonight?"
"Stop it, dear, you're disguising. She's not any stripper," I raised my voice a bit at him, as his stupid and childish response made my blood run cold. I saw how his face changed from confident to 'I fucked up' and he backed away with hands in the air as the sign of giving up.
"Sorry, mate. I didn't mean it that way."
"I overreacted," I apologized shortly, turning to John, but still able to hear Roger's mumble behind me.
"Yeah, you did."
"How about you?" I asked the youngest, ignoring Roger's comment.
"I can't, I'm sorry. I have to catch my bus," he explained, as he buttoned his coat up and grasped onto his bag as he was already halfway out of the door.
"See you tomorrow," he yelled after us and the door pushed him outside.