Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 36

Roger coughed as he lazily reached for another bottle of his whiskey, staring at the bottle in disgust before bringing it to his lips and taking another numbed swig of the drink. He sucked the bottle dry, pulling it from his lips and shaking it to make sure that it was, indeed, empty. "Tim," he whined, turning his head and pouting at his boyfriend who sat across the room at their kitchen table, back hunched over and glasses sitting on the tip of his nose as he ruffled through the paperwork laid out in front of him. "I'm out."

"Then get yourself some more," he mumbled in response, not even bothering to meet Roger's bloodshot gaze.

"I can't get up. The room's spinning, or I'm floating away. I can't tell," the blonde whimpered, slumped on the floor with the couch supporting his back, "Can you? Please?"

"I'm busy, Roger," Tim muttered, annoyance lacing his voice.

Roger groaned and dropped his head back. "You're always saying you're busy, but then you're never actually doing anything. Why is that?"

His boyfriend sighed out of frustration and tore the glasses off his face, finally giving the blonde the attention he vied for and sneering, "I don't know, Roger. How about you answer that question about yourself? This new job of yours seems to be keeping you pretty busy, yet I haven't seen you grade a single paper or make up a single test. Why is that?"

The music instructor glared at him. "It's not that kind of job."

Tim chuckled. "Of course it isn't, Roger. It's the kind of job that lets you do whatever you want, whenever you want, just because your client's wife walked in on you with his dick up your arse. What happened to being discreet? In and out, I've told you a thousand times!"

"It wasn't my fault, Tim," he grumbled, hanging his head and twiddling his thumbs in his lap, "He paid me for an extra hour, and at triple the rate. I couldn't say no."

"Yeah? Well, you saying yes made you lose one of our highest paying clients, so if you don't mind..." Tim slipped the glasses back on his face and gave the paper he was still holding onto a slight shake, "...I have work to do."

The music instructor frowned even more than he already was and shifted his gaze to the other side of the room, his eyes falling upon one of the bottles of Southern Comfort that had gotten away from him. He lit up and crawled over to it, snatching it up into his possession and unscrewing the cap with a newfound sense of urgency. He tossed the cap to the side and immediately brought the drink to his lips, tilting his head back—expecting to feel the liquid that's long lost its burn hit the back of his throat—but feeling nothing. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as he looked down at the bottle, seeing that it too was empty.

"Fucking hell!" he snapped, throwing the bottle across the room and hoisting himself up from the ground, using the wall for support. He staggered on his feet a little, almost losing his balance, before making his way to the bedroom, feeling as though the floor was being pulled out from underneath him little by little his entire way there.

Tim watched Roger disappear into their room, biting his lip and debating with himself whether or not to follow the blonde in there. It had been days since Roger left the flat, and as much as he liked keeping Roger under his watch—especially as of late—he was driving him absolutely mad.

Ever since he came home that dreaded night, all he'd done was mope around and whine when he needed something, and if he didn't get it immediately, he would bitch and moan until he either got it or gave up and distracted himself with some other meaningless fascination. The sex they had was half-assed at best, with Roger wanting to do nothing but lie there, and his meals had all been replaced with bottles of liquor that made him more difficult to deal with than usual.

It was clear that something was bothering the blonde—but he hadn't said what. The mystery had been nagging at the back of Tim's mind, making him wonder what could've possibly happened that night he came home late, his feet aching and his shoulders sore.