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You had been on a trip for over two months now and came back early to surprise your boyfriend, Roger.
-/-
Impatiently, you grunted and stamped your foot like a little, spoiled child. You had rung the bell of the apartment more than twenty times now. No one had answered.
You slumped down on one of your suitcases. They were all lying on the floor in front of the door, blocking the entrance for everyone. It was already later in the evening so you did not really worry about someone going in or out.
"Fuck off you donkey raping shit eater! There's clearly no one home there!"
The oh-so-familiar voice of Mr. Buller echoed through the abandoned streets. You turned your head to see him hanging out of the window, dressed in a bed robe while petting one of his cats.
"Mister Buller! Lovely seeing you again after such long time!" You smiled mischievously yet sweetly at your neighbor. Buller rolled his eyes and humphed once he saw it was you.
"I'm not gonna take it back," the older man grumbled. "Your boyfriend is not home. Playing in a pub somewhere closely I believe. Left around thirty minutes ago."
You jumped onto your feet after he gave you this information. If Roger was playing in the same pub as usual, you could make it there before they would begin.
From experience, you knew it was a seven-minute walk, approximately a four-minute run if the traffic lights weren't bugging you.
"You're an angel, Sir!" You blew him a kiss and started running, not missing the small smile Mr. Buller flashed.
As you were on your way to the boys, they had just finished setting up their equipment. "Five more minutes before showtime," Brian excitingly announced while checking the clock.
Those minutes passed by like seconds, and soon after the announcement; the four boys were rushed on stage.
John put the strap of his guitar over his head and stood comfortably as he watched Brian struggle to install the microphone to the correct height. After he managed to do that, Brian picked up his guitar as well while Roger took a seat behind his drum set.
When Roger noticed everyone was finished, he looked at the singer. "Ready, Freddie?" Roger asked the boy who twirled around.
"Of cou-," Freddie started but got interrupted by a loud shouting voice, the voice was coming from a person standing near the bar.
"S-stop! Don't-, d-on't play," you breathed heavily, one hand was on your knee to support your worn out body.
"Is that [your name]?" Brian squinted his eyes to avoid the bright light of the spotlights, and there he saw you standing in dimmed light, one hand in the air to prevent the band from playing as the other supported your body.
"You bloody, bet it's me. I didn't just run-, all the way-, across town-," you puffed out and shook your head to get rid of your dizziness. "to end up not being-, recognized," you finally finished. A bartender tapped your shoulder and offered you a glass of water.
The water was your savior and you chugged it down in one go. "Thanks, sweetness." you nodded and handed him the glass before walking over to the stage.
Roger abandoned his seat and made his way over to you as swiftly as possible. He hit the cymbal on accident when he pushed past John and his drum set, alarming everyone in the room by the sound.
"You're back already?" He asked you, full of relief and joy, and enveloped his hands around yours.
"You betcha I am," you said and pressed your lips onto his. He chuckled while kissing you when the small but appreciated crowd cheered for you.
"I'm so happy," he breathed against your lips and you hummed, being out of breath because of the kiss now. Your foreheads were touching while you stared into each other's eyes lovingly.
Roger and you broke out of your trance when you heard John laughing, rather loudly at that.
"[your name] freaking RAN here!" He wheezed and wiped his fake tears away. "That is what I call, true love."
