Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 103

Tim paced back and forth in the foyer of his grandmother's home, waiting for Roger's return. However, it wasn't until the afternoon that the front door clicked open. The brunette—slumped on the staircase with Roger's shirt on his back and an empty, expensive bottle of liquor gripped loosely in his hand—lifted his head and watched as the blonde closed the door behind him. He spun around and his darkened eyes fell upon Tim, who pulled himself up from the steps and staggered to the side. He would've lost his balance had he not gripped the railing and steadied himself.

No words were exchanged between the two before the blonde charged forward and pushed the brunette back down on the stairs, falling down with him. There was barely any time for Tim to react before Roger swung at him, again and again, the brunette blocking the blows with his arms crossed over his face. His screams went unheard as anger boiled inside the blonde, drowning out his boyfriend's pleas for him to back off. Fury had completely overcome Roger, and it would've only escalated had Tim not gotten the chance to flip them over and pin Roger to the stairs, taking advantage of the slowing and softening nature of the punches as the blonde expelled all his energy.

"Let go of me!" the blonde shouted breathlessly, thrashing under his boyfriend's grip.

Tim laughed, the attack sobering him up. "What, so you can hit me again?"

Roger's fight lasted for a minute or two longer before he heaved a defeated sigh and relaxed against the marble steps, his head dropping to the side and the tears he thought he'd finished shedding resurfacing, rolling down his cheek in a jagged stream.

"You deserve it," he whispered, biting his lip to keep it from quivering.

The brunette remained quiet, continuing to hold down the blonde whose chest rose and fell with each shaky breath he took.

"Why'd you do it?" Roger asked, glancing up at the brunette hanging over him.

"Do what?"

The blonde chuckled sadly. "You know what."

A shameful blush washed Tim's cheeks red. "No," he gritted his teeth. "I don't. That's why I asked."

Roger rolled his eyes and pushed his boyfriend off him, the brunette tripping over his feet and falling back on his ass. He watched with wide, worried eyes as the blonde sat up and grabbed the stair he was on, his knuckles turning white as his grip tightened. He lifted his head and met Tim's gaze, saying after a long pause, "Brian's dead, Tim, and I know it was you who killed him."

"But it wasn't me!" The brunette scrambled to his feet. "I swear!"

The blonde mirrored his actions. "Bullshit!"

Roger knew his boyfriend and, being familiar with the lengths the brunette had proved himself willing to go in order to keep them together, it was only logical that Tim was responsible for killing Brian. He couldn't think of anybody who hated the professor as much as his boyfriend did—not even Chrissie or Timothée.

"No, Rog, that's what I was trying to tell you this morning!" Tim cried, daring to eliminate the distance between him and Roger and even go so far as to grab his upper arms to give him a slight shake. "I didn't kill him. I just..."

"You just what?"

"I just knew you were going to leave me," Tim muttered. "And I had to do something."

"So you killed him?"

"I didn't kill him!" the brunette insisted, the crimson in his cheeks intensifying as he murmured, "Geoff did."

"Geoff did," Roger repeated in disbelief, a flatness to his voice.

"We went out one night after you left, and we got talking and...and he made me realize that, if I didn't do something now, I was going to lose you forever."

"So you killed Brian."

"Well, at first I was just going to come here and hope I could talk you into coming back to New York with me, remind you of what we had, but then you came over and we had that fight and—"

"—you decided the only way to get me back was to kill Brian," the blonde bitterly finished the sentence.

"I was angry!"

"Goddammit, Tim!" Roger screamed, shoving the brunette back and turning away from him. He pushed his fingers through his hair and exhaled sharply. "Fuck." He kicked the bottom step out of frustration, pacing back and forth a few times before kicking the stair once more and plopping down on it, burying his face in his hands and screaming, "Fuck!"

Tim sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what do we do? Turn me in? Turn Geoff in? He's not here anymore. He went back to New York last night."

"We can't," the blonde murmured, dragging his fingers down his cheeks and looking up at his boyfriend. "If we turn you in—if we turn either of you in—we'd be turning me in too, because once you tell them why you did what you did, how you and Geoff came to know each other, what really started it all...you're not the only one who's going to be locked away."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" Roger snapped, causing Tim to cowardly avert his gaze elsewhere. The blonde tipped his head down as a blanket of silence fell over the couple. With no sounds to distract him, Roger's mind drifted back to his ideas about what happened the night before, in the alleyway where the professor was found with a bullet to both the head and the heart, and soon enough, the blonde was in tears again.

Tim frowned at the pitiful sight, a rare moment of compassion drawing him towards the broken blonde, who he took a seat beside and hooked an apologetic arm around. Instinctively, Roger collapsed into his side, crying into the fabric of his own shirt. The brunette rested his head against his boyfriend's and held him closer, feeling the sobs rack through the slightly younger man's body as he mourned the loss of the professor.

That was the last moment that the two of them would share so intimately, becoming distant not long afterwards. In the weeks that would follow, Tim and Roger would sleep in the same bed and sit at the same table for dinner, but it felt as though an ocean still separated them. Even being in the same room made them feel like they were countries apart, and for all Tim knew, they always would be.