Heart to Heart (LGBTQ+)

His & Hers - Chapter Three

Wednesday

Sounds of pencils scratching across paper fills the room as every student sits leaning over their assignments.

Roger stands facing the blackboard, book in one hand, chalk in the other as he writes out important connections between WWI and WWII, when he stops to look at the tiny stub left in his fingers. He throws it in the trash and looks at the tray beneath to find it empty.

Then he turns to look at his students, none of whom are paying him any mind. "I'm just real quick gonna go into Mr. Hayes' classroom to borrow some chalk, keep your noses in your books."

Not a single student reacts as if they heard him, making Roger slightly suspicious that some of them might be asleep.

Across the hallway and through the door right in front of his own classroom is Tim's, silent and with the lights turned off. Roger knows Tim's schedule as well as his own, and knows that on Wednesdays it's empty, so he quickly walks in, up to the tray filled with chalk sticks and grabs three.

"So that's why I'm always out of chalk."

Roger jumps and nearly drops the sticks, startled by the unexpected presence of his co-worker.

In the very last window of the room looking out into the school yard sits Tim, up in the windowsill with a book in his lap.

"Why are you sitting in here with the lights off?" Roger walks toward where Tim sits grinning like the cat that got the cream.

He closes the book and lets one leg dangle off of the ledge. "See, if the light is on then my students will come running, needing help with their homework and what not."

The dark haired man climbs up into the windowsill as well, pressing his foot against Tim, trapping it between his own and the window.

"Uh-huh, because as teachers it's our job to not help students in need," Roger says, unimpressed but smiles nevertheless. "And what's wrong with the teacher's lounge?"

"Well, the teachers?" Tim speaks as if it's obvious, "This is one of the rare moments in a week I have all to myself, what with how social the missus is at home. Scout leader, book club, wine club, garden club, knitting club, my God the list is endless.

Tim likes to complain, because in truth it makes him happy that his wife keeps busy and isn't sitting all lonely at home. The both of them enjoy social and active lifestyles that way - Tim going the more active route with tennis and golf.

"So should I leave?" asks Roger with a sly and mischievous smile, "Let you have your alone time in peace?"

He pretends to leave, slowly standing up when Tim reaches out to catch his sleeve.

"I'd rather spend time alone with you than time alone with myself."

Tim's hand smooths down Roger's arm, atop the sleeve of his cardigan till he reaches his wrist, tentatively gliding his fingers like feathers through Roger's open palm, along each digit and stops only when the very tips touch. They linger in silence together. Roger pushes into the embrace slightly, curling his fingers and Tim's along with them till they're wound tight like a conch.

And then he pulls away just as slow, unwilling to leave the flesh alone, but any second now someone could come and catch them in a tender moment.

"So what are you reading?"

The well worn paperback gets raised up for Roger to see. "A single man."

"Again?"

A sigh escapes Tim as he rests his head against the window. "It's nice and familiar, and perhaps a bit close to home..."

Tim has spoken about it a lot in the past, enough for Roger to easily recall the plot of it: A day in the life of an English professor who struggles with the sudden death of his partner.

Roger stays a safe distance away, one that wouldn't be considered suspicious, yet he can't help but let his hand wander, past Tim's loafer and up to pull lightly at the hem of his slacks.

He wants to ask what it is about the book that is so familiar to him, but Roger knows. Knew it 15 years ago. Knew it last week. Knows it today and tomorrow. It's a talk they had before going off to college together, and again before they got married to two wonderful gals, and again before they started working together here.

The silence between them - as Roger pulls on the pant leg and Tim watches him dearly - is one of comfort and hope and promises. That's what 26 years of friendship will do to you, they're almost telepathic by now.

Minutes pass and they don't talk. Instead they simply watch the birds in the yard hop around on the grass, pecking at the ground for whatever scraps might be left, forgetting all about time and space.

"Mr. Simmons, Charlie and Thomas B are arguing again!" a distressed child stands in the doorway and nearly screams.

Roger jumps away from Tim as if he touched something hot, and stares with wide eyes at the student who's hopefully too naive to understand what he saw. "Is it about tanks again?"

The child nods.

Lowly, Roger speaks to Tim, "I'm telling you, if Charlie starts speaking German, I'm running for my life."

Tim chuckles loudly and waves to Roger, mouthing an unheard "bye" as he watches the other walk out the room again.