Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 9

Brian sat at the front of his classroom, staring nervously at the hall of students before him – all with their heads down. The pencils in their hands moved at an alarmingly rapid rate as they tried to answer the exam questions as quickly and accurately as they could. This was the professor's least favorite part about the job. Not only because he'd have to spend the next week grading all of them and being disappointed in the results – knowing they aren't a true reflection of his class's understanding of the material – but because during the test, he had no other choice but to sit there.

He glanced over at the clock and frowned – another hour and a half to go. My god, could that clock move any slower? His attention shifted down to the paper laid out in front of him, random scribbles here and there that he planned on transcribing into possible lyrics and chord progressions when he got home. He wished he could leave the classroom and work through them sooner with Roger, but no one was allowed to leave the classroom until the test was complete – student or professor.

With a heavy sigh, Brian dropped his head back and closed his eyes. The silence that filled the room rang in his ears, making his scattering thoughts even louder. He squeezed his eyes shut even harder and brought his hands up to his ears, hoping that would drown out the boisterously incessant voices inside his head, but it was useless.

The professor's thoughts were practically screaming at him – ranging in focus from his students to the exam, from Chrissie to their relationship, and from Roger to their relationship (if it could even be considered as such). They were all fighting for attention, the latter of the three fighting the hardest.

Why? He had no idea. He just couldn't get the blonde off his mind. He kept playing their interactions over and over, analyzing them to an annoying degree and wishing he could go back in time and say or do something different, believing it would produce a better outcome.

Brian still felt as though he didn't know the instructor at all. Granted, it had only been a week, but if someone were to ask him about Roger, all he'd would be able to tell them was that he was the school's new music instructor, that he'd been playing music forever, that he was somewhat new to London, and that he hadn't had a wink of experience teaching before. He could say that he's confident, that he doesn't seem to have much manners – genuine ones, at least – and that he was charming.

Charming? Brian caught himself mid-thought, his eyes popping wide open, Is that really the word that comes to mind when you think about him? He sat up in his chair and folded his hands atop his desk and the sheet of paper, trying to convince himself that he didn't know what he was saying. Chrissie was charming, with her warm, inviting smile and cheerful attitude. Roger, on the other hand, all he really had were his good looks and no-shits-given approach to every social situation he found himself in.

Good looks? Really? My god, Brian, do you hear yourself? What's wrong with you?

The professor leaned forward and buried his fingers into his curls, the room starting to rise in temperature and shrink in size. It felt as though the walls were closing in on him, as if all the students had lifted their gazes up from their tests and were staring at Brian, having heard his inner dialogue. Could they? No, they couldn't...but could they? Oh god.

"I-I'll be right back," the teacher blurted out, swallowing the nervous lump that formed in his throat and disregarding the university's exam policy as he stood and rushed out of the classroom, running down the empty halls towards the men's bathroom. He burst through the door and staggered over to one of the sinks, grabbing onto the porcelain fixture and attempting to calm his rapid breathing and racing heart. He brought his shaky stare to his reflection in the mirror, struggling to recognize the man staring back at him.

He looked exactly like him, with the same crazy, curly hair and the same pink button-down and black vest, but there was something very different about him. This unfamiliar, dissociative feeling terrified Brian, but there was no one he could turn to for help.

The professor was already on thin ice at the university, though it didn't blatantly seem like it. Although his colleagues would never admit it, they were still unsure about his position there, even though he'd proven himself time and time again – not to mention that he was no longer the newest addition to the staff, thanks to the new music program. If they were to see him like this, gossip would indisputably spread through the corridors and classrooms like wild fire, only furthering their doubts about him, and he couldn't chance that.

Brian stumbled away from the sink and into one of the stalls, closing the door behind him and falling down on the toilet seat. He put his head in his hands – the world around him being pulled right out from underneath his feet. He felt sick to his stomach, trying to sort out all the thoughts flooding his mind. Just as he was about to switch positions, getting ready to hug the toilet seat and empty the contents of his stomach into its bowl, a knock rattled on the bathroom's door.

His head snapped up, his breath getting caught in his throat.

The door creaked open, followed by a worried, "Brian? Was that you?" It was Chrissie.

With his heart pounding against his chest, the professor burst out of the bathroom stall and startled the headmistress as he clung to her tightly, tears spilling from his eyes. She hesitantly wrapped her arms around him and began to rub his back in hopes of calming him down, but his sobs began to wrack his entire body.

"Hey," she murmured, giving him a slight, reassuring squeeze, "Hey, it...it's going to be okay, Bri. Shh."