Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 27

"Okay, John, you definitely got a killer sense of rhythm, but your technique could use some work," Roger critiqued the college student as he snatched a piece of paper from his desk and began to scribble down some notes on top of his thigh. "I want you to work on these for next time. 'Nothing too hard—just a few scales—but it'll make you sound and look a lot less sloppy when you're playing."

John took the papers that were extended out to him and feigned a grin at the blonde's blunt criticism. "Oh."

"And maybe you should stop wearing those platform shoes while you're at it too," the music instructor tacked on as the student rose up from the stool he was perched on. "I personally like them, but some of the chumps you have class with find it a bit strange."

A hurt expression appeared on John's face, unaware that his appearance was an issue with his fellow classmates. "I thought they make my legs look good..." He glanced down at himself and frowned, thinking about how the only reason he got them was because Veronica told him they did.

"And they do; they really do," the blonde replied boldly, folding his hands in his lap and meeting the offended student's raised gaze, "But just as a little word of advice from one queer to another, maybe keep the shoes for when you go out."

John popped an eyebrow, registering in his head what the music instructor had just said to him. "But...But I'm not gay," he stuttered, his cheeks turning a bright, embarrassed shade of red. "I-I have a girlfriend."

"Sure you do, kid." The music instructor stood up and patted him on the shoulder, the corners of his lips perking up into a cocky grin. "But hey, I'll see you next week, yeah?" He poked him in the chest. "I'm looking forward to hearing those scales, so be sure to work on them. You don't have to do it for long, just try to do it every day. I know they suck, but they really do help."

The student said no more before snatching his bass and his bag up from the floor and darting out of the room, leaving Roger to himself. The blonde heaved a sigh and slumped back down on the stool, leaning forward and covering his face with his hands—his elbows resting atop his knees. He didn't have any time to reflect on the lesson he was certain could've gone better before his classroom door was thrown open and a question was shot at him like a gun.

"How did you know you were gay?"

Roger slowly looked up to see Brian standing in the doorway, a somewhat wild look in his eyes. The blonde raised an eyebrow and asked him with a chuckle, "Pardon me?"

The professor hastily entered the room and closed the door behind him, making his way over to the extra stool and plopping down on it to confess, "I know this is going to sound mad, but I've been waiting outside your room this whole time because I've been having these very confusing thoughts, and you've got to help me. I-I don't know what's going on, but ever since I met you, there's just this...this feeling I get whenever—"

"Brian," Roger cut him short, shaking his head, "I-I don't think you're gay."

"Then why am I having these kinds of thoughts? Huh?" he nearly shouted, his voice breaking as tears began to waver in his eyes.

The blonde just stared at him, unsure of how to handle the professor's sudden outburst. He had no idea where it had come from, and he found it hard to believe that Brian had sat long with these thoughts as he admitted, "You're all I can think about, Roger, and I don't know why. It's so fucking distracting. The more time we spend together, the...the more I want to know about you, and you...you're so secretive that I start coming up with my own ideas, and—"

"Brian," the blonde repeated his name calmly, resting a hand on the curly-haired man's thigh and attracting his frustrated and slightly frightened gaze, "Just take a second and breathe. You're working yourself up over nothing."

"I've just...nobody's ever made me feel the way you do," he continued to ramble, not listening to a word Roger was saying to him, "That's gotta mean something, right?"

The music instructor was at a loss for words for the second time that day while speaking with the professor. He felt torn over which course of action he should take, because just a matter of minutes, their previous situation had escalated to something much worse, something he wasn't prepared to deal with so soon.

Just this morning, all Roger had to worry about was keeping Brian in the dark about the life he led before he started working at the university. Now, though, suddenly aware that his budding feelings were reciprocated, he had to be careful of losing control over himself. Sure, he'd been making conscientious advances towards the man ever since he first met him, and he'd definitely fantasized about what it would be like if they were to ever get together in any sense of the phrase, but he did so because he didn't think anything would come of it. It was exciting for the blonde, however, now that there was a possibility of his fantasy becoming a reality, it terrified him.

"Roger, say something," the professor pleaded, snapping the blonde out of the daze he'd fallen into. "Anything."

He panicked. Oh god, what do I tell him?

Brian slid off the stool and knelt before the music instructor, clasping his hands together as if he were a beggar and murmuring, "Rog, please."

"Oh, for god's sake, man, get up. You're being pathetic," he finally spoke, the professor scrambling to his feet without any resistance and sniffling at the blonde's blunt words. Roger let out a deep breath and stood up as well, grabbing onto Brian's shoulders and looking him directly in the eye. "Look, there's only one way to know for sure if these feelings you're having are real."

"Kiss me," Brian immediately suggested, flushing Roger's cheeks a deep shade of pink.

"That...That wasn't what I was going to say, but—"

"Roger, I need to know," the quickly unraveling professor explained, shaking his head and swiping at the stray tears rolling down his cheeks, "If we don't do this now, I'll never know, and I'll be stuck feeling this way forever. Please, just kiss me."

The music instructor bit his lip for a second and took a brief look over the Brian's shoulder, making sure the coast was clear before meeting the professor's gaze and asking, "Are you sure this is what you want, Brian? Because, you know, this isn't something we can come back from."

He nodded his head nervously, croaking out a weak and unconfident, "I know."

"O-Okay," Roger replied hesitantly, thinking to himself: This is it, Roger. You'll probably never get this chance again, so you better make it good. Don't mess it up; don't get carried away. Remember where you are; remember who you are.

He let out an anxious sigh and gradually shortened the distance between him and Brian, slowly sliding his hands underneath the professor's chiseled jawline and gazing up into those equally apprehensive hazel eyes. Roger couldn't help but notice how nice it felt to run his hands across smooth skin, as opposed to skin that was prickled with stubble. He shook his head, pushing past the distracting thought, and pressed his lips softly against the pair of lips that accepted his in anticipation.