I still love you | Maylor fanfiction

27

Roger's P.O.V.

At this point, I couldn't sort out my feelings. I was broken hearted. Depressed, and sad that much, that I just wanted to sink into a bottle of vodka and cry my eyes out, until all the emotions were gone again.
But every time before a girl broke up with me, she didn't call back, so I had time to myself, to get drunk and recover from my heartbreak. Brian did call.
I was angry at him. Of course, he caused me so much pain, accused me of so many betrayals, which weren't true at all. He fucking broke my heart.
But he did call back. He seemed as if he wanted to apologize. At first, I had no interest in his poor desperate apologizes. I didn't want to see him for some time, recover, and hearing his voice made my heart ache again, bringing new tears to my eyes. I had a desperate need to tell him off, slam the phone down, and just ignore him. As I always did when people pissed me off. But something in his voice told me he really meant it. That he understood how I was feeling, that he was really sorry.
So I went.

Brian's P.O.V.

Soon enough, the doorbell rang. I made my way slowly, because I couldn't make it any kind briskly now, to the door, opening them and revealing the short blonde waiting.
He stood there, cowering in his warm winter coat, staring at me with dead face and cold eyes.
"Hi," came from him, waking me up from trance- I realized, I was staring at him mindlessly for few seconds.
"Hi," I greeted him, forcing to draw a small smile on my face. "Come in," I let him inside.

"So," he asked as he put off his jacket, making comfortable in the chair in my living room. "Are you feeling any better?" His face still stayed seemingly without interest, blank, but in his light blue eyes I could see his pain and the accusations he had against me.
"Yeah, a bit. I'll be fine soon," I replied, sitting on a sofa across him.
"Good," he nodded, gazing out the window.
"Rog, I-" I inhaled deeply, shakily beginning my speech.
"You're a dick, Brian, you know that?" He spat out all of the sudden, still avoiding eye contact with me.
"Yeah," I mumbled, looking up.
"Well, At least you know," he stabbed me with a death stare, similar to that one I sent him myself, earlier this morning.
"Roger, listen. I'm really sorry."
"Yeah, you're sorry. What's it gonna change?! You hurt me Brian. Very much. I have feelings as well, you know?" He interrupted me again.
"Rog- I-," I stuttered, trying to explain myself. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it. None of it. I understand you're mad at me, because you have the absolute right. I acted as a prick. I-I can't even explain myself. I just want to let you know, that I didn't mean any of that. Not at all. And that I'm sorry."

He stared at me in silence, frowning, his look still cold and cruel.
"Alright," he looked down, mumbling quietly. It wasn't alright.
"Rog, you're my best friend. Thank you for what you did to me yesterday. And for everything you ever did for me actually! You're an amazing person and I thank you for having you in my life."

Roger's P.O.V.

Stop. For gods sake, if he could just stop talking. Stop blurting his deepest feelings out of his mouth, in the thought he's making me feel better, but doing otherwise instead. He made everything so much worse, with every other kind word he said, I felt more and more rotten inside. All his words, every one of his greets, warmed my heart, make it beat faster. But as soon I realized that this feeling I had was wrong, so completely absolutely wrong and inappropriate, i felt sick and just wanted to be alone again.
But he just kept on talking.

"Yeah," I stopped him, even though I tried, maybe not so nicely. "It's alright Bri. You were drunk. That happens. I'm overreacting."
"Okay," he looked down after watching me in worry. Of course I didn't convince him that I was fine. I never could lie to him about everything. He'd always find out. He knew me the best of all people. He just decided to let it be.

"Uh, what exactly even happened yesterday? I remember walking from my place, buying beer, and then heading towards you. Then some people. But all next is in some kind of blur. What happened?" He asked me out of the blue.
I froze. I hoped that in the moments he remembered wasn't the word 'princess' or anything about me linked to those guys.
"Yeah, there was this gang. They surrounded you and probably wanted to hurt you, I don't know. I saw it out of the window, so I came down there," I explained, shrugging my shoulders mindlessly.
He stared in front of himself.
"Oh," he breathed. "Thanks."
No. Please. Not another word.

Brian's P.O.V.

There was this one spectacular word I remembered from yesterday night, and kept on repeating in my mind over and over. Princess. How the hell was it associated with a gang attacking me?
"You know what's weird?" I chuckled, turning towards Roger.
"What?" He smiled slightly.
"There's one word I remember from yesterday. 'Princess'."
Roger froze, and his face went pale, eyes wide staring at me in shock and horror.

Roger's P.O.V.

Fuck.

Brian's P.O.V.

"Have you heard it yesterday? Did someone say it, or something like that?" I frowned.
He didn't answer. The blonde just kept on sitting there, tense, gazing at me, absolutely terrified. What was wrong?

As I said it out loud, a whole sentence appeared in my brain. 'I noticed you once with blonde princess. He was good.' It definitely wasn't Roger saying that. It must have been someone from the gang. But why did he said that to me? Who did he mean by it?
"He said he saw me with a blonde princess. Who is it?" My confusion grew, but he dint answer. His skin kept on turning whiter, almost green, and he seemed as if he should faint.
"Are you alright?" I asked him.
"Yes!" He shouted, jumping out of the chair when I leaned towards him to grab his shoulder and wake him up from the shock.

"Wait a minute. You and Esther are the only blonde people I know. And he then referred to 'princess' as he, and said he was good," thoughts ran through my head, slowly starring to put things together.
Roger started walking around the flat, panicking.
"Yeah, it's probably someone-"
He was good.
Then it hit me. Oh god. Oh shit. Fuck.
"My god. You're 'princess.'"
I sat in place, staring in shock and horror into his eyes, full of so many mixed feeling I couldn't say which one was the strongest.
He was good.
"What- who- w-when-" I stuttered, nearly shaking. My brain worked fast. I knew what probably happened. It kept buzzing my in my head, but I desperately wanted to push it away, and calm myself down, pretend it can't be true. But the more I rejected it, the more it seemed true.
"W-What happened Rog?" I whispered, my hand flying up to my mouth. He didn't reply, as if he lost his voice. He couldn't move a muscle, he just kept on standing there, staring at me, his eyes filling with tears.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked quietly, finally accepting the fact. They hurt Roger. Hurt him, ashamed him. He was good. God, I couldn't even imagine how he felt.

"What should I have told you," he whined silently, standing in place, all tense, watching me with glistening eyes.
"Anything," I replied softly, already tearing up as well. It would never come to my mind. How could that even happen? Why? And why to Rog? Our sweet, beloved Rog? He must have felt so ashamed, so scared, and he didn't say a thing. He came through all of it by himself. It must have been the day he didn't come to the studio to record. I didn't know what exactly he had to experience, but I knew it must have been so horrible.
I stood up, walking towards him and holding him in my hands. After a while, he relaxed, leaned his head against my chest. He closed his eyes and started sobbing quietly. He needed it. He deserved it.
"You can tell me anything."

Roger's P.O.V.

Dammit. Not only he acts the exact way I need him to- no fucking questions, but he also understands, and he comes close and hugs me. Fuck. The warmth of his body, his pleasant aroma. The feel of his touch on my skin. I gave up. He got me. I was trapped. I was trapped in loving him and I was never getting out.

"Please don't tell anyone," I mumbled.
"Of course I won't," he whispered back, stroking my hair.

Heyyyyyyyyyy
Alright this is gettin a lil maylorish, don't ya think?😏