Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 24

"I told you," Tim muttered as he stroked Roger's hair in a comforting way, the blonde lying in his arms as they sat in bed together. Dried tears stained the music instructor's cheeks, and his half-lidded gaze was locked on the other side of the room, his surroundings but a mere afterthought as tonight's events played over and over again in his head. "I don't think this person you're trying to be is worth it, babe. It seems to me like it's only making you feel worse."

"Would you just shut up about it?" the blonde murmured vapidly in response, refraining from meeting his boyfriend's affronted gaze as he brought the amber bottle he held in his hands up to his lips and added, "I really don't give a fuck about what you think, and it's obvious you can't see that. You haven't shut up for one second since I got in the car." He took a disappointing swig of the only alcohol Tim could find him in their flat, which was surprising since a fully stocked fridge of liquor and booze was the one consistency the two could manage.

Apparently not anymore.

"Well sorry for trying to cheer you up," Tim sneered, snatching the bottle from his boyfriend and taking a sip of it himself. Both men just kind of sat there afterwards, an eerie, unfamiliar silence falling over them. Roger's eyes began to grow heavy, and the beer bottle that never left Tim's possession again was left with nothing but a drop that swirled around the bottom as its drinker contemplated what to do about the man curled up beside him.

Although he would never admit it, Tim hated to see Roger upset like this. The blonde wasn't any fun to be around when he got like this, and the instances in which Tim had to be the comforter instead of the comforted were too far and few for him to learn how to fix them.

Besides, fixing problems was never his strong suit—it was Roger's. Roger was always the one to clean up Tim's messes, to get him out of tricky situations, and to provide for him even though he didn't do anything in return other than keep the blonde in line. There was a small part of Tim that wished one day he'd be able to do the same, but that day was never going to come; both he and his boyfriend knew that.

Tim glanced down at Roger whose eyes had closed and whose lips were parted ever so slightly—soft snores escaping from in between them—and sighed, biting his lip and reaching over the side of the bed to set the bottle down on the ground with a soft clink. He carefully slid out from underneath Roger, making sure that his boyfriend's fall to the mattress was slow and gradual, and repositioned himself so that he was hovering over him.

He stared down at the sleeping blonde and brought his hand up, caressing Roger's cheek with the side of his finger. Tim swallowed the lump in his throat and dragged his hand down the blonde's chest, reaching the waistband of his pants and undoing the button and zipper—all with one hand. Roger stirred only a little bit in response to the action, but kept his eyes shut as he moved in Tim's favor, lying on his back and exposing himself for his boyfriend.

Tim smirked and wrapped his hand around Roger's dick that was undeniably starting to grow hard, beginning to move it up and down and eliciting an unconscious moan from the blonde. His head sunk back into the mattress as he reacted to the movement that began to intensify, getting him closer and closer to climax without his knowing.

"Oh, Brian, yes," Roger groaned, clenching the bed sheets tightly as he squirmed underneath his boyfriend's touch, "Keep doing it, just like that."

Tim's eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, and with the rapid, sudden removal of his hand, the blonde's eyes popped wide open. He gasped and looked down, seeing the situation and scrambling towards the bed's headboard. "What the hell are you doing?" Roger asked him worriedly, grabbing at the blankets and pulling them up over himself.

"Who the fuck is Brian?" his boyfriend replied lowly.

A blush crept up in the music instructor's cheeks, and instead of answering him, he asked again sternly, "What were you doing, Tim?"

"I'll tell you once you tell me who Brian is," Tim growled, slowly crawling across the bed with an infuriated look in his eyes and shortening the distance between the two of them so that their faces were centimeters apart. Roger remained silent, tightly holding onto the bed sheets that weakly separated him from his intimidating boyfriend. "WHO IS HE!?!" Tim shouted, gripping onto Roger's shoulders and throwing him back into the headboard.

"NO ONE!" the blonde yelled back, his boyfriend shoving him back once before getting off the bed and starting to pace at the foot of it. Roger's eyes followed him as he rushed up to their dresser and swiped everything that sat on top of it—both dirty and clean clothes, photo frames (some of which were already broken or shattered from the last time Tim did this), colognes and perfumes, cosmetics, and of course, empty bottles of liquor and beer cans—to the floor.

"I can't believe you!" he screamed, pivoting on his heels to face the terrified music instructor who hadn't moved an inch from his spot on the bed. "You have a shit-arse day, and when I try to cheer you up, you cry out some other guy's name?" Roger didn't get the chance to defend himself before Tim fell against the dresser and covered his face with hands. He dragged his fingers down his cheeks and shot a fuming glare in the blonde's direction. "Who the fuck is he, Rog, and why are you thinking about him when you should be thinking about me?"