Last night was only dreadful. I was at the club the whole night looking for Roger, but there was no trace of him. Not inside, not outside, not even in the back. I could say I stayed till about 3 a.m and he wasn't there. The place was just closing and there were people walking out, he still wasn't there. After driving back to my flat in tears, I noticed that Roger's car wasn't in the place it was always parked.
It was gone. Missing. I even looked around the parking lot to see if I was mistaken, but it was nowhere. It's crazy. What if he left on purpose because he liked someone else? What if that whole talk we had meant nothing to him?
I can't get up from this damn bed, I don't want to. Roger is missing and I don't have a clue where he is.
I really hope it's small. But how can it be if it's already two p.m the next day?! Something's wrong and I don't know what to do. I'm helpless, and I miss him.
My mind scatters of what could have happened, and where he might even be. But my mind goes blank whenever I get too deep into it.
I thought of one place though for a moment, Roger's place.
Maybe he's there...
I finally got up from my bed and stumbled out of my bedroom and into the living room. I picked up the phone gently from the latch and pressed it to my ear, then I dialed the number I memorized a long time ago. Roger's flat phone number. I dialed it slowly, trying to not get my hopes up of his answering. Sounds stupid, I know.
I dropped my hand when I heard ringing on the other end. Please pick up, Angel. Please don't stay quiet in so worried.
After a few moments, the ringing stopped on the other end. This either meant that he didn't answer or it was just quiet on the other line. I decide to say something. "H-hello?" It was the first time in a while that I've really spoken, and my voice hitched and was raspy. I was almost shocked to hear my own. I cleared my throat and spoke it again, this time it was much better.
Nothing. No one was on the other end. Damn it.
He has to be there. Where else would he be?
It wouldn't hurt to check, would It?
Maybe it will, but it won't hurt to try looking there at least.
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I knocked a few times on the flat door. There was no response, or noises coming from inside so I decided to check the room number again to see if I was at the right door.
'Room 39'
I was at the correct flat, but I heard nothing. For some reason I was feeling a bit cold, so I snuggled more into my coat as I waited for any kind of response inside. Hell, today people wouldn't even consider it cold. What's my problem?
After a few more tries, I gave up on knocking. That's when a thought struck me, a thought that could be true.
I swallowed a bit, my throat had a bit of trouble as it was sore, but then I rushed down the hall to the front service office and I opened up the door quickly and went to the front desk. I knew there weren't very many employees here, as I had past experience. So the person I see at the front desk had a name tag that read;
'MANAGER'.
I would assume that this would be an easier task for the manager himself.
"Hello, sir. How may I help you?"
The young man must've known I was in distress, as his voice sounded too generous as if he was ready for me to complain or something.
"Is there still a person living in room 39?" I quickly asked but quietly, not looking for any side conversation.
"Let me check that for you, sir." He replied, pulling out some kind of clipboard. He flipped the page and his eyes lit up. "Nope! It was just moved out of actually. Are you looking to move in?"
I shook my head in reply to his question, but then was in shock that he just moved out?! Why? Where? He left a lot of his stuff at my house. What was going on?
I spaced out, thinking of what could have happened, that's when the manager spoke to pull me out of my wandering thoughts.
"Sir?"
"When exactly did he move out...?" I slowly questioned. He made me a confused expression, probably because I was a stranger asking about the person who moved out of that specific place.
"He moved about four hours ago, he hired a lot of movers to help him too. Seemed like he wanted to leave quickly."
I froze right there on the spot.
Why would he move a few hours ago?
Is he trying to get away from me?
Is he moving to America?!
"Sir?!" I heard the man practically yell. I rose my eyebrows to show I was listening, hopefully for him to give me any more details. "If you aren't going to ask to move in, may I kindly ask you to leave and stop asking about who moved out?"
This wasn't very shocking, to say the least, I'm basically pressuring this poor man. "S-sorry..." I said before walking outside and stopping after closing the door, closing my eyes and taking a few huge breaths.
Now I had no idea where he could possibly be.
Maybe he actually did want to break up with me, and now he wants nothing to with me. What if he doesn't want to be in the band anymore? What if he is moving to America with that guy he randomly left the club with?
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"Please pick up, please pick up..." I kept mumbling to myself, holding my home telephone to my ear, sitting on the sofa with my knees curled up to my chest. Finally, there was a voice on the other line.
"Hello?" Freddie answered. I got a little too excited.
"Hey, Fred. Wha-"
I was interrupted by a voice in the background.
"Freddie, who is it?"
I wasn't very surprised when I heard a male's voice, but that's when I realized whose voice it belonged to. Why was Deaky there?
"Why are you with John?" I asked, trying to spark up small talk, even though it's really none of my business.
"Well uh... we were recording on a song because you little bitches always interrupt our precious work with something stupid!"
I assumed he meant the other night with me and Roger, but to be fair, John was involved too. But that only made me more confused. I was calling his home phone.
"But why are you recording in your hou--"
"Anyways, why'd you call, Brimi?" Freddie rushed to interrupt my question. I shook off the odd reaction and suddenly remembered why I even called in the first place.
"Roger's missing."
There was a moment if silence, but then a giggle. "Are you sure he's not just hiding in the cupboard?"
"I'm serious," I replied in a serious tone, "We went to a club last night, I went to the bathroom, then came back to him being gone. I searched everywhere, and earlier I went to the building he originally lived in, and apparently, he moved out. I'm currently freaking the fuck out."
"This isn't a joke?"
"No. I don't know what happened. I don't know if he's upset with me, or-"
"Brian, it's Roger we're talking about. Even if he did leave because he was upset with you, I'm sure he'd be scurrying back to you in no time. Give it a few or fewer days, if he doesn't come back, call the police."
I think about what he's said, and this can't be completely wrong. Roger was never one to hold grudges, but did he really hate me so much as to move out if his normal apartment and leave a lot of his stuff here?
"Alright, thanks. Enjoy whatever the hell you're doing with Deaky." And with that, I dropped the phone back on the latch to hang it up. Honestly, I didn't have a clue what they doing, and I didn't want to know.
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*Roger's P.O.V-*
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I counted each bill I needed to hand over to the muscley male crossing his arms in front of me. Better not give me an attitude or else he and his friends aren't getting fucking paid.
Honestly, this one guy gave me an attitude throughout this entire move and it was annoying as hell.
"This sofa goes over here."
He would groan.
"Make sure you don't break that lamp, it was my grandmother's."
He would roll his eyes.
"The King sized bed mattress goes in here!"
Then he would question why one person even needs a king size. He doesn't know that there's actually going to be two people living here soon.
"Here," I said, handing him the currency for him and his six friends combined. He snatched it from me and recounted. As he was focused I decided to say, "Make sure you share, and not waste all that money on hookers."
He finished counting, glared up at me, and walked off, first bumping my shoulder making me stumble back a bit. Lucky for me, I paid him, meaning that's the only reason I didn't just get beat up.
Right as that door closed, I waited for the stench of sweaty mover men to get out of my nose area, then I took a large inhale of the smell of my new house.
It was decently sized, but the best part was the huge ass backyard. Sure, I only found this house just this morning, but I was rushing I guess. I managed to sign all that paperwork in an hour, which is my record of signing papers. I might've only read three words from each packet, but who cares? This was my house now, and soon it would belong to Brian too.
After assuming that I got drugged last night in my drink, due to me waking up at about five a.m in a dumpster, and Brian being nowhere to be seen, and the entire club closed. I felt strangely fine, there were no headaches so I consider it to be a completely successful night!
But then I decided to buy a house and move all my shit out of my flat here. And now I realize, I may still be drunk?
But the backyard... fuck you could do so much in it. You could probably even film a music video or two back there!
I walked to my nice-smelling new bathroom and closed the door. This is also something I've been planning to do all morning. I grabbed the small trash bin and placed it on the floor next to me and pulled the scissors from my pocket I placed there earlier when moving out.
I positioned the scissors up to my hair, starring at myself in the mirror.
Hope this goes well.
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Y'all mad at Roger yet or is it just me, the author?
Anyways, once this book ends (I have no idea when yet, so don't ask), I'm going to have another Maylor book out.
It's going to be a highschool AU, again, I have no idea when this book is going to finish, but don't be thinking soon. But when this one actually does end, maaaaaybe just MAYBE be prepared to check that one out? 🤷♀️
Anyways, Roger is such a whore moving without telling Brian. What do you think?
-Abbigale