Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 23

Freddie burst into the men's bathroom and found Roger standing at the sink, his hands wrapped around the counter's edge and his head hung low. "Why did I think bringing him here was a good idea?" the blonde muttered, his voice low and scratchy. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, feeling his friend's arms wrap around him as he added, "He's going to find out, you know, and he's never going to wanna talk to me again."

"I don't think that's true," Freddie disagreed, looking at the distraught blonde through the mirror in front of them and saying, "He's got a soft spot for you, Rog. Anyone can see that. If he didn't, he wouldn't have step foot in this horrid, STD-ridden rubbish bin of a bar."

The music instructor let out a skeptical chuckle, offering the logical reason of, "He was just being nice."

"Or maybe he likes you." Freddie brought his hand up and swiped away the single tear that had escaped from Roger's eye. "You've just been with that rotter Timmy for so long that you turn a blind eye to anyone else who shows the slightest interest in you."

The blonde shot a glare at Freddie and shrugged him off, turning away from him and crossing his arms over his chest. "You don't get it, Fred. You never have."

The dark-haired man sighed out of frustration. "And I don't think I ever will."

Roger glanced over his shoulder and walked over to the door, popping it open and peering into the crowd that died down a bit from when he first disappeared, the song changing from "Dancing Queen" to the Bee Gee's "How Deep Is Your Love." The blonde swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and watched as people began to pair up and sway to the beat of the song. "Do you think he's still out there?"

Freddie rolled his eyes and pulled a stick of eyeliner out from his jacket sleeve, walking over to the sink and leaning over the counter towards the mirror to fix the thick rings around his eyes. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I've been stuck in here with you, trying to calm you down like some teenage girl crying in the bathroom at her sixteenth birthday party."

Roger sniffled and glanced back at his friend. "That...That's oddly specific, Fred."

"All I'm trying to say is that I'm not the one trying to get Brian May's dick in my mouth."

The blonde gasped and stepped away from the door, exclaiming, "Freddie!"

"Oh, don't act surprised, dear." The dark-haired man stood back and returned the eyeliner to its hiding place in his sleeve, turning towards him and saying, "That's what you're known for around here, and you know I'm right."

Roger shook his head and darted for the stalls, Freddie catching him by the arm before he could lock himself in one. "For god's sake, Rog, stop acting this and just go out there!" he cried, crossing his arms over his chest and adding on a sardonic, "Unless you need me to hold your hand like a little boy who doesn't want to lose his daddy at the theme park."

The blonde scoffed and ripped his arm out of his friend's grip, rubbing the sore area. "Would you stop it with your weirdly detailed metaphors? They're not helping."

"Well what good is hiding in here doing you?" he snapped in response, "I can only help you so much, Rog. I can't fuck the guy for you. I mean, I could, but—"

Just then, the bathroom door was pushed in, both men falling silent as Reid walked in, eyeing the two cautiously before slipping by them and into one of the stalls. Once the door clicked shut behind him and the lock was set in place, Freddie and Roger took no time at all to escape the suddenly uncomfortable situation, hastily making their way back over to their table where—to Roger's dismay—the curly-haired man of his fancy was missing. All that was left behind was his fiver that had been conveniently tucked underneath the bottom of one of the three empty glasses, surprisingly still there, and Roger's bag—which Brian must've brought in from his car.

The dark-haired man dropped his hand on the blonde's shoulder and gave him a slight shake, saying, "Just talk to him tomorrow, okay? You wouldn't want to suck his dick here anyways. It's putrid."

Roger slowly glared over at Freddie before lifting his foot and stomping it down on top of his friend's, eliciting a pained gasp from the dark-haired man whose side he angrily departed from, bag in hand. The blonde caught the eye of many bargoers as he headed for the door, their catcalls and shouts going unheard as he stormed out, stopping at the phone booth at the corner of the street and using the change he'd scraped up from the scummy ground to make a call.

He held the phone up to his ear and leaned against the wall of the booth, listening to the dial tone that rang in his ear for what seemed like forever. His heart nearly skipped a beat when the dial tone stopped and was replaced by the sound of the receiver picking up, followed by a scratchy and low, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," Roger mumbled into the speaker dejectedly, his cheeks growing warm out of shame and his hands wrapping tightly around the device, "Can you come and get me?"