Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 11

The two returned to Chrissie's office once all the flyers had been posted, Brian hoping to catch her and explain everything now that he was feeling better while Roger tagged along, not wanting to go home just yet. Looking at the clock in the hall, he didn't think that would be happening tonight anyways. It was long past the time he told Tim to be here by to pick him up, so Roger doubted he'd still be outside waiting for him.

For all he knew, Tim became impatient and had gone off to some bar to get shitfaced and taken home by a stranger. Would that be so bad? the blonde thought as he and Brian approached the door to find it closed with a note taped to the window.

The professor snatched the piece of paper from the door and read it aloud, "Went home. See you tomorrow. Chrissie." He met the instructor's intrigued gaze, a frown appearing on his face. "She left."

"Sounds like she was tired," Roger tried to console him, seeing the hurt in the Brian's eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the professor fell against the wall, staring dejectedly at the letter his girlfriend had left behind. The blonde bit his lip and suggested, "I wouldn't look too much into it, Brian. We've all had a pretty long day."

"You've had a long day?" he snapped, glaring up at Roger, "No, I've had a long day." The blonde's eyebrows furrowed together at the professor's sudden change in behavior as he threw the note to the ground and pointed an accusing finger at him. "And it's all because of you."

Roger chuckled in disbelief, crossing his arms defensively. "Me?"

"Yes, you. You...You're all that I can think about!" Brian cried, his body trembling with a mix of emotions as he stepped forward, shortening the distance between him and the blonde. "I mean, you're everywhere I go, and...and even when you're not physically there, you're here." He dug his finger into the side of his head. He shook his head and dropped his hand down to his side, confessing in defeat, "You have been ever since the first day I saw you, and...and I don't know why."

The professor spun away from the instructor and walked down the hall a bit, his steps becoming uneasy like that of a drunkard who couldn't keep their balance. Roger watched in stunned shock as Brian stumbled into the wall, sliding down it—his back to him—until he hit the floor with a thud, soft cries cutting through the silence that had fallen over the two of them.

The blonde pressed his lips tightly together, wanting to admit to the curly-haired professor that he'd been on his mind too, but his fears of losing everything he'd been working towards prevented him from doing so. So, instead, he walked over to the professor and sat down behind him, leaning his head against the wall and heaving a sigh as he said, "I don't know how it was for you, but I haven't been able to relate to one person here. Not a single one. I know it's only been a week, but everyone's so old and all they want to talk about is...is boring, old people stuff."

Brian sniffled and barely turned his head to glance over his shoulder at Roger, but the gesture was enough to let him know that he'd heard him. The blonde grinned at the quivering of the professor's lips, knowing he wanted to disagree with him but too stubborn to act on his impulse.

He tilted his head down and began to twiddle his thumbs in his lap, going on to say, "You're different though, and it probably seems like I'm always around because you make this...whatever it is...you make me feel like I'm not the only odd-man-out."

The professor scoffed and wiped his tear-streaked cheeks. "Wow, thanks," he muttered sarcastically.

"You know what I'm saying," Roger tried to reason with him, looking over at him.

Brian sighed and moved so that he was sitting beside Roger, a fair amount of space still between them, but not so much to make it seem like they were at opposite ends of the corridor. The two of them remained silent, trying to think of what to say next. They never got the chance to figure that out before a voice boomed from the far end of the hallway, "Hey, what are you two still doing here?"

Brian and Roger both turned their heads to see a custodian standing at the end of the hall, one hand wrapped around a mop—the one end soaking in the sudsy water he'd been using to clean the halls—and the other resting angrily on his hip.

"Oh shit," the professor whispered, grabbing the instructor by the hand and standing up as the custodian began yelling at them for dirtying up the floors he'd just cleaned. Brian dragged the blonde behind him as he hastily made his way out of the building, the two breaking out into the night in a fit of laughter and racing hearts, the thrill of their deviance exciting them like nothing had in a long time.

"That was close," Roger commented with a chuckle as they both tried to catch their breaths, the blonde smiling over at the curly-haired professor.

"Too close," Brian agreed, hands on his knees and his back arched over.

"What are we going to do about our stuff?" the instructor inquired, looking back at the school, "Everything of mine's still in my classroom."

The professor waved his hand dismissively. "You can get it all on Monday. It's late, and besides, Mr. Prenter might kill us if we go back in there. He's a real stickler about keeping his halls clean." Roger raised a curious eyebrow as Brian straightened his posture and heaved a sigh, asking, "Hey, is your ride coming to get you?"

The blonde had no control over the laugh that slipped past his lips at the professor's question. He noticed the lack of laughter coming from Brian in return and cleared his throat, answering, "Oh, uh, no. He...He had something to get to; couldn't wait around for me."

"Then how are you getting home?" A blush crept up in Roger's cheeks as Brian quickly realized he didn't have a way to get home and, without so much as a second thought, proposed, "You know, I have an extra seat in my car if you want me to drive you home." Roger instantly shook his head no, not wanting Brian to see where he was living, or rather, who he was living with. "It won't be a problem, really," he tried to convince him with a small, reassuring grin. He hated driving home by himself most nights anyways, especially when there was a lot on his mind.

"No, I-I can't ask you to do that, Brian," the music instructor stammered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're not asking, I'm offering," the professor countered, the corner of his lip perking upward into a smirk as he pulled out his keys from his pocket and waved him along. "Come on, let's go."