I still love you | Maylor fanfiction

35

Roger's P.O.V.

I slowly opened and stepped into the doorframe, stopped in place and took a look at him. His suitcase was all packed up, standing prepared by the wall, as we were supposed to leave right after breakfast, and he was now sitting in a chair by the window.
"Hey," I said quietly, my hand still resting on the doorknob. "What are you doing?"
He shrugged his shoulders in response.
"I don't even know actually."
"You always know what you're doing. To be at least one of us," I scoffed sadly without a slightest sign of a smile.
He just shrugged his shoulders again and turned his face away from me, gazing out of the window down on the street.

He didn't mean it in the wrong way, he didn't want to offend me. But I knew he was thinking about what happened yesterday, and he wasn't going to act as if it never happened.
"You're mad too, aren't you?" I commented.
He faced me again, an expression I couldn't understand in his face.
"I'm not mad, I'm just-"
"Disappointed?" I interrupted him. "Yeah, that would be two of you now."
"Rog I'm not disappointed," he sighed, massaging his forehead. "I just- I don't know how to feel about this. I can't even believe it. I can't believe you lied to me."
"I didn't lie to you!" I spat out.
"Rog you did lie to me," he sent me a serious look.
"I did fucking not."
"Stop acting as a goddamn child! You said you wouldn't drink, you promised. And you broke that promise. I see that as lying."
"Who are you to judge me, and who are you that I have to give you promises?!" I shouted, not thinking much about what was coming out of my mouth. There were just too many emotions inside me and it all had to come out, no matter if I was offending someone, lying or saying absolute shit.
"Look, I'm just trying to help you. The more you're going to put it off, the harder it's going to get!"
"Stop telling me what to do!"
"I'm not telling you what to do, I'm giving you advice! I'm trying to help you, because you obviously need it!" He gestured with his hands wildly, and I felt his mood getting unstable. That only encourages me to continue.
"Stop caring about me so much! You're not my fucking mom!" I yelled.
"I'm not-"
"I hate you!" I screamed my lungs out on the first thing which came to mind, just to prevent him from talking.

"Oh so now you hate me?" He got up from his chair.  "Just yesterday, just this morning, you said you loved me." I heard how his voice was suddenly cold as ice, even though he was still frowning in rage.
"I never said I loved you," escaped my lips before I could stop it, rougher than I wanted it. I knew I stepped over the line.
He stood there in the middle of the room. His shoulders fell down and face want pale. But his eyes didn't change a bit. Dark brown, deep and sparkling kept on sending their look into mine, strong and full of anger.
"Alright," he let out coldly. "I guess I was wrong with you."
I knew I said too much. I didn't mean it. I wanted to run up to him, hug him, kiss him, and apologize for everything. But would he believe me?
"I guess you did," I deplore quietly, before shutting the door behind me, standing in the silent aisle alone.
I pressed my forehead against the wood in front of me and let out a sigh, tears forming up in my eyes.
Why do I keep on messing things up so much?

John's P.O.V.

The bus ride was the most silent, awkward, sad and angry at the same time, bus ride I've ever experienced. No one said a word during the whole ride, all of us were caught up in ur our minds.
We had a small private bus only for our band, and of course the driver and our stuff, so luckily, we didn't have to travel the whole way to another city with the angry crew or the main band, who all had their own vehicles.
I sat next to Freddie and wanted to hold his hand to make him and myself feel better. But instead, he just kept on staring out of the window holding himself with his strongest will to not jump at Roger and throw him out of the window. Meanwhile, the blonde was sitting at the front, puking into a paper bag every once in a while and was the cause of our many stops. Brian always jerked his head up and sent a worried look to Roger when he heard him throwing up, but always stopped himself before he would get up to help him.
I seemed to be the only one noticing.

Suddenly I felt a weight fall on my shoulder as the raven haired singer finally broke his staring contest with the nature outside and leaned his head against me. I felt his warm hand slide into mine.
"I knew you told me to not stress anymore, but I just cant stop," he whispered silently.
"I know," I gently stroked his hair. "You just have to concentrate on something else. That will help you."
"But what? Nothing's more important now than this," he sighed.
I frowned and looked at him, making him to straighten up and gaze in my face as well.
"Excuse me," i said in acted offense.
Instead of a reply he just let out a laugh, his head falling back.
"Don't be stupid, Bri and Rog are here!" He scolded me, already knowing what I had in mind.
"There not looking!"
We kept on talking quietly but I was pretty sure they both noticed it by now. One way or another I didn't care. They should mind their own business.
"That's not enough for what I want to do with you," Freddie raised one of his eyebrows and with a smirk leaned in, pressing a kiss on my lips.

"Ugh, this makes me even more sick," I heard Roger grunt from the front seat as the singer pulled away with laughter.
I wrapped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest.
"You know I love you."
"Of course," he replied and placed a kiss in my hair. "But I do more."

Roger's P.O.V.

My gaze fell on the can of beer on the table. My tongue desired to taste it, as well as my stomach and head, both needing to be calmed down, but disgust to myself was still holding me back.
I was sunken in a chair in a small room, where I had my privacy, in the backstage of a new stadium. In the afternoon we arrived in the next city, and already in the evening we had another concert of our tour. I just gotten out of my hangover and I was already reaching out for alcohol in despair again.
Fuck it. I threw all the last bits of my self respect and will behind and grasped the bottle, opening it and gulping it down.

Brian's P.O.V.

Just as Roger entered our dressing room, I knew he was drinking. I didn't even have to smell his odorous breath, I could just see it in his face, I could sense it. He wasn't drunk. Thanks god. But he ruined himself another evening, ruined another chance for him to get over it. I knew it wasn't easy but he must have seen it. Every night, it was getting harder for him to stop. That was just how it was. He had to stop the earliest possible. He knew he could come to me whenever he wanted, he could ask for help. Why didn't he just do so? I would help him.
At the previous few stops of our tour, I would call us very close, maybe even lovers. But here, we were nothing. The whole trip, he didn't say a word, didn't even look at me. And I refused to do so as well.
He did now. But unfortunately it wasn't tone of the look I hoped for. With this one, he clearly forbade me to say anything. He knew I knew he drank, and saw no right in me to judge him.
I looked down and continued on with my own business.

"I'm not drunk," I heard Roger say in his defense as Fred stepped to him, before passing him and ignoring everyone else in the room.
I sighed and shook my head. We had a lot of argues in this band since we started. But this one must have been the worst one so far. Everyone has done something wrong today (well except John, he never does anything wrong) and we all had to apologize. But of course, neither of us wanted to start.
I was in no mood to go out and play now. Everything's was wrong. But it was my job, hobby and passion, and either way, I did love it.

So I stepped up on the stage and fucking rocked it.

I'm sorry for the last sentence, but I'm still a fan alright??!!