I still love you | Maylor fanfiction

6

(They got together as a group sometime in autumn, by this time it's early spring)

Roger's P.O.V.

I inhaled shakily, leaning my head forwards, resting my forehead pushed against the cold wall of the bathroom, eyes closed, trying to stop shaking uncontrollably. Loud music was sinking through the walls, overwhelming those, for instance me, who were not feeling the mood for it. It didn't help at all to my current state of mind, discouraging me from getting on my feet and face what was going to happen.
I gulped heavily, ignoring my stomach swirling and the nauseous feeling coming up my throat, stood up, and with a deep breath unlocked the door of the bathroom. I stepped to the sink, grasping into it and avoiding looking, the slightest, in the dirty mirror above it, to not see my own destroyed image.

With a sigh I leaned forward and washed my face with icy water, hoping it will build me back on my feet.
Today was the day. The day D. We were in a small dark dance club on the edge of London, which's owner Freddie persuaded to let us perform there, just for about half an hour. In the end, he did agree, and just like that, our first gig ever was set up. Nothing extra, just few people will see it, and no one heard about us yet, but still, we made it. We were on the start of our trip.
I couldn't wait, I counted days which were left to this one evening, and we practiced twice as hard as before. I haven't thought about anything else but this gig.
But tonight, when I got into my van to go pick up the others, I froze. My heart started beating fast and my palms were sweating. What if we mess up? What if they will hate us? What if we're not so good as we think we are. All the doubts started floating in as I sat there in the dark and silence, hand with keys hovering above the engine. And in the bloody hell I couldn't get them out.

I finally forced myself to start the engine and pick up the others, but wasn't able to share the joy and excitement with them, their cheered comments and conversations only making me feel worse and worse, tie me up in stress and panic. As soon as we arrived to the club, I left them to theirselves with the car keys, and rushed to the bathroom, leaning over the toilet and begging to not throw up.

And here I was. We were about to start in ten minutes, and I was shaking, sweating, and desperately wanting to puke, not able to stand on my feet, or even go out and play.
I was angry on myself, furious. This was probably the most important day in my life, and just hours before, I zig zag out as a damn freaked out rabbit. I never had any problems with performing in public- well, to be honest, I never really did perform in front of any audience, so with this realization, I started panicking even more, because with this fact taken in mind, it could be possible I had secret issues with that. But I didn't know why- we worked hard, we practiced every day, we were the best small band in London- Queen! We can make it! Despite all my effort to calm myself down, my stupid mind was too stressed out to understand a simple clear fact.

I heard the door creak as John stuck his head in, his eyes falling on me with a look of worry I noticed immediately. I quickly raised my face up from the sink, rubbing my eyes with my fingers, pretending to be fine so that he won't ask.
He did.
"Roger, are you okay?" He stepped in with a small voice, closing the door behind him, staring in my face. I shook the water of my hands, conjuring up a confident smile.
"I'm great!" I assured him, walking to the door. "When are we about to start?"
"Well, That is why I went looking for you..." he replied while he followed me through the door, and we found ourselves in a lighted room filled with people, and lound music banging through its walls.
"We're on in only few minutes. The boys are waiting in the backstage."
"Right," I nodded, my palms sweating as my stomach made another loop. "Go first. I'll come soon. I just need to get a drink."
I didn't wait for his reply as I ran to the bar counter, yelling over the speakers my order in the waitress's ear. Soon enough my shot came, and I downed it without hesitating, slamming the change on the counter and rushing through the crowd to the backstage.