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aangelinakii · 3 months

Text

ESPRESSO.

— you're working late, cuz you're a singer.

summary : you sing at the iceberg lounge, and roy comes to watch you almost every night you perform. tonight he has something to tell you, but you don't see him as anything more than a lost puppy in lust.

note : this fic contains a female reader, but almost all of my other works are gender neutral, so check out those if that's what you're looking for, or send in a request so i can cater closer to what you'd like !!

not proofread !

a sweet song in the form of a hum filled your dressing room as you brushed your hair in the vanity mirror, the lights adorning its edges brightening your complexion.

you were due to sing tonight, as you did every friday. people came from all over the state to see you perform; you, with your magical voice, and enticing moves on stage. anybody whose eyes were privileged enough to watch you, was graced with the everlasting memory if your song.

those who watched you, loved you; there was nothing you could do to stop it. almost every day you came to work, vases littered your vanity, your coffee table, your daystands – lord, even the ground if there's no space – filled to the brim with an array of flowers, each bouquet entirely different from the rest.

of course, none of these gifts came in vain, but it became difficult to appreciate when all these fans felt connected, and you only walked around a stage with a microphone in your hand.

they became a sort of parasocial relationship; entirely one-way, entirely fabricated by those starry-eyed onlookers.

one man in particular – roy – made an effort to come each night you performed, much like the other iceberg lounge patrons, but, as he had an in with the owner, he'd managed to form at least some sort of real relationship with you; a relationship all those other greasy hogs in the crowd only wished they could have. but it wasn't like roy provided you with anything special. he was just like the rest, only with a little more networking skills.

he was charming, sure, but you knew men that came to see you sing very well by now; only one thing on their minds, those men. it was unfortunate, but true.

a knock came from the other side of your door, and your humming came to a stop. your eyes flickered over to the clock sat atop your vanity, next to a holder of makeup brushes – you weren't due for another forty minutes.

"come in," you announced, rich voice rumbling through your throat.

after a moment, the door peeled open, and you watched through the reflection in the mirror, brush still working through your coils of hair.

whoever came a-knocking revealed themselves in a moment, stepping inside the dressing room and closing the door behind them in one casual movement. they stood with their back against the door. roy.

"evening, darlin'," he thrummed, his voice all too confident when speaking to you, you'd always thought. "how're you feeling about tonight?"

it took a physical restraining to hold back the laugh that threatened to rip past your teeth.

"fine."

singing came naturally to you, it was not something you had to prepare for, or practice, especially when performing at the iceberg lounge was a weekly thing; something you excitedly anticipated, even, as you went through your week otherwise. people hired you to sing at parties, even other clubs on the occasion they were down a singer; there was even a time a star city-based musician had asked you to come down to open for their show in metropolis.

when roy came to speak to you after your shows, it always went the same way. to you, he was just another guy, eager for your undivided attention, which you seldom gave him. but to him, you were everything, but, then again, that's what you were to every woman-loving person in the room when you were atop that stage, adorning the spotlight like a halo.

roy didn't respond for a few beats, simply watching your reflection in awe, as the mirror's lamps illuminated your face. he began to step forward, arms folded behind his back as he did so, taking in your dressing room for what seemed like the first time, despite him doing so every time he came here.

"there was something i wanted to tell you," he piped up after a moment, stopping in front of the wardrobe at the edge of the room, and your eyes slid over to look at him, back facing you, for his reflection had gone out of view in the vanity.

his hands traced the ornate handles of the wooden doors, and he pulled it open, curiously admiring the various hooked-up stage outfits. most were dark in colour, sparkly, eye-catching for when you stood in the spotlight in just the right position.

"and what was that?" you finally placed down your hairbrush, taking one final look at your appearance before shuffling in your seat to fully face him.

the door closed with a soft click, and roy turned around to look at you, his green eyes surveying you in earnest. they flickered away for a moment, his jaw setting in place, as if running the words through in his mind.

when he finally looked back up at you, his eyes had softened, and his expression held an uncertain sense of vulnerability.

"you're amazing, (name)," he began, voice confident, yet owning a soft quality you weren't used to from him. "every time i watch you on that stage, i swear i'm just ready to give all of myself to you. you shine like a star under that spotlight, but even when it's just you and i here, you block out everything else."

how sweet.

you couldn't count the amount of borderline-obsessive letters you'd received upon returning to this room every friday night, when you clock in, and once you finish your set. and each of them said virtually the same thing; they could offer you a lavish life, where you could sing just for them, and they would treat you with diamonds and holidays and expensive restaurants, however all phrased slightly differently.

couldn't men get a little more creative these days?

and you were almost a hundred percent certain this was where roy was going with this.

"i hope you're not trying to tell me you're in love, roy," you dismissed him, turning back to your reflection to regard your appearance before going on stage for the night's set. beside you, his stature shifted, almost saddened, but it had recuperated in barely a moment.

a laugh came from him, the air brushing lightly over your temple; something disheartened, but trying to appear well-adapted. "what?" he practically snorted dismissively. "of course not."

"why?" he continued all too quickly after allowing a half-beat to pass. "are you?"

now this snort was more than genuine, your lips curling into a bemused grin. "bold of you to assume i have time to date, let alone fall in love."

"o-of course," roy muttered, letting out a sigh that he disguised as a breathy chuckle. he paced back into frame of the vanity, where you could watch his body language more closely. "do you really think you couldn't, though? not even for a great guy? someone who goes out of their way for you."

men like roy harper, and other pretending-not-to-be-married men in your crowds, always thought too highly of themselves. they thought you actually had interest. they assumed themselves unattainable, and that their attraction to you was an honour, when in reality they were repulsive.

jutting out your bottom lip, you gave a shrug. "not sure... not ringing any bells."

"really?" roy shot back all too frantically, coming to a stop behind you in the mirror.

allowing the rejection to rub in just that little bit more, you squinted your eyes at him through the glass. his eyebrows upturned; he felt scrutinised, judged. and, well, he was. after a moment, your face morphed into mock surprise, jaw dropping and mouth forming an O shape.

"oh!" you gasped, mouth coming up to your mouth. "were you meaning you?"

"oh, roy," you continued, watching as his confident façade began to drop. there it was; the real, insecure roy. "we would never work. you know that, right? i'm just so, so busy, we could never get to spend enough time together to keep you happy. and with the amount of fans i have, why, you wouldn't be able to handle it. i'm just looking out for your happiness here."

the corner of his mouth slackened, jaw clenching as he watched you in the mirror. by his sides, his fingers fidgeted with the material of his dress pants. you'd hit a nerve, and his precious ego couldn't handle it.

he gave a shrug, eyes breaking any contact with yours as he turned his head toward the ground. "yeah, it's whatever."

when he finally spoke, any remnants of confidence, or cockiness, or whatever it was, had dissipated. he'd been stripped down to his britches by that velvety voice of yours, where he'd expected to be treated different to the others.

despite the let down, after a day or two of wallowing, you knew full well he would be back, sitting at the bar next friday night as you performed, eyes on you the entire set. he may not come to your dressing room for a while, but he would be back, you knew.

for the second time this evening, a knock came from the other side of the door.

"you're on in ten!" the technician called.

with this, you stood to your feet and turned to face roy with your real eyes for the first time since he'd come in. it took a moment, but he lifted his gaze to meet yours, a glimmer of hope lingering in his pupils.

but you didn't say anything more, didn't make any moves to comfort him, as you knew he was hoping, aching for. simply, you stepped over to the door and turned the handle, opening the dressing room up into the hallway.

"i'll see you on stage, roy," you hummed, lips curled up into a sweet smile.

the man lifted his head, craning to look back at you. his hands found his pockets, digging inside so far he could probably find gold.

he thought this would be the last time he'd end up in your dressing room.

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