Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 51

"Darling, where have you been?" the flamboyant intruder chastised his absence, rising up from his spot on the bench and crossing the room to clasp the blonde's face in his hands, "Oh my god, forget what where you've been. What happened to you?"

"Nothing, Fred," Roger responded in an angry whisper, as if they were under surveillance, plucking his friend's hands away from his cheeks and glaring at him. He tossed his bag to the side and walked over to his desk, limping and hissing with each step he took. He plopped down in his desk chair and let out a shaky breath, looking back at his friend with furrowed brows. "Why are you even here, and how'd you get in?"

"Oh, I flirted with the cute janitor and showed him this," the dark-haired man admitted shamelessly, flicking the folded-up flyer he snatched off one of the walls at the blonde, "'Told him I was interested in lessons and he showed me the way to your room...after taking me on a little detour to the custodian's closet, of course. It's surprisingly spacious in there; you and Brian should check it out sometime." Roger's narrowed eyes went unnoticed—or rather, ignored—as Freddie crossed his arms and shifted the focus of their conversation. "Okay, now it's your turn. Spill." He gestured in the music instructor's direction. "How the hell did that happen?" That obviously being the stain Roger failed to disguise with makeup.

The blonde swallowed the lump in his throat and snatched the pen off his desk, beginning to play with it in his lap as a distraction while he contemplated whether to confess to Freddie what happened this past weekend or not. It wasn't like he was unfamiliar with Roger and Tim's relationship; he'd been there for most of it and had seen it all. Yet the blonde found himself reluctant to share the story behind his scars, and so he stayed quiet, biting his lip and twiddling the pen between his fingers.

"Fine. Don't tell me, you prick," Freddie tutted, waltzing over to Roger's desk and propping himself on the edge, where he crossed one ankle over the other and picked up one of the songs the music instructor had been working on. Roger glared at his friend out of the corner of his eye as he scanned his potential piece in silence, mindfully ignorant of the awkward tension building between them.

When he was done looking over the first song, he moved onto another and finally blurted out, "You want to know who came to see me this weekend?"

Roger sighed and slowly looked up at Freddie, replying uninterestedly, "Let me guess, the bartender you're always trying to get with? Or the guy who told you to fuck off after you asked how big his dick was?"

Freddie scoffed. "Same guy, darling, but no, not him. Guess again."

"I don't know, Fred. Just tell me. I'm not really in the mood for your guessing game."

"Oh, come on. Since when were you the one to suck all the fun out the room?" the dark-haired man replied, playfully smacking Roger on the arm. The seemingly harmless gesture sent the blonde flying, slamming up against the wall beside him. "Jesus, Rog, what's gotten into you?"

He sighed and rubbed his aching arm, avoiding the question by proposing one of his own. "Are you going to tell me who it was or not?"

Freddie hung his head and curled his lip underneath his front teeth, disclosing in a serious tone that strongly contrasted his previous one, "It was Brian. Brian came to see me this weekend."

Roger's eyes widened. "B-Brian? Brian came to see you?"

Freddie crossed his arms over his chest and nodded his head in affirmation, glancing down at the blonde. "Mhmm, he was looking for you. 'Said he hadn't seen you in days and was worried."

Roger stared at Freddie nervously, anxiously waiting for him to reveal what else Brian had said to him, but instead, the dark-haired man returned his attention to the new song in his hands and commented somewhat irrelevantly, "You know, your boy holds his liquor quite well. Granted, he got a little tipsy and googly-eyed over some pictures of you, but he didn't throw up or anything like you used to." He chuckled sadly. "God, I remember those days. You were even more of a mess than you are now!"

The music instructor shook his head, pushing aside the matter of how much of a mess he truly was to inquire, "What else did he say to you, Fred?"

The dark-haired man set the song down on the desk and met the blonde's fearful gaze, answering sharply, "He told me that Tim came here looking for you, and that you made him take you back to his place." Roger swallowed hard, afraid of what else Brian had told him about that night. "He also told me that the two of you kissed." There it was.

Roger's cheeks grew a deep, embarrassed shade of red. "He told you we kissed?"

Freddie shrugged his shoulders. "I'm a little bitter that he was the one to tell me about it and not you, but yes, he did."

The blonde chucked the pen to the side and shot up from the chair, painfully crossing the room in an attempt to create some distance between him and his friend. He couldn't stand being so close to him anymore, feeling as though he'd been suddenly put under interrogation. He and Freddie agreed a long time ago not to ask questions, and to trust in one another not to receive any judgment or ridicule, yet in that moment, he felt as though he was receiving both.

"He also told me why you kissed," Freddie added, trying to regain his friend's frustrated attention but failing to do so as he sat down on one of the two chairs set up in the center of the room and put his head in his hands. The dark-haired man stood up and took a step closer to the blonde, continuing his spiel by mentioning, "He likes you, Roger. He likes you a lot—"

"I don't care if he likes me, Fred," he grumbled, weaving his fingers through his hair and letting out a heavy sigh, "That's not what I...I can't even think about that right now, okay?"

"And why not?" Freddie insisted, resting his hands on his hips, "I thought you liked him too. I mean, isn't that what you've been telling me since the minute you met him?"

"Yeah, and look where it's got me," Roger spat back, his angry gaze shifting from the ground to his friend as he answered his own question with such resentment, it struck Freddie silent, "It's got me beaten up, thrown around, and at risk of losing my job. And for what? Some stupid professor who told you when he was shitfaced that he likes me? He doesn't even know me, Fred! I don't even know me anymore!"

The dark-haired man raised an eyebrow, waving his hands frantically before placing them back on his hips. "Wait a minute. Did I just hear you say that Tim's beating you?" He gasped, his eyes doubling in size. "Is that where that came from?" He motioned to the black eye marking the blonde's face.

Roger tugged nervously at the collar of his button-up, the room suddenly very warm as he stammered, "N-No. I got it falling down the stairs."

Freddie clicked his tongue and shot an accusatory finger at his friend. "Don't you dare lie to me, Roger Meddows Taylor. You know I know when you're lying!"

The blonde tilted his head down and pressed his lips tightly together, unwilling to admit the truth to Freddie. It wasn't because he didn't want to; it was because he wasn't ready to. He still couldn't fully wrap his head around what happened these past few days, and he didn't feel justified to make as bold a claim as to say that Tim beat him. For all he knew, all his scars—all the cuts, and all the bruises—could've been from Sid. The guy was known for his vicious behavior and personality, so it made perfect sense if it was all Sid's doing. It had to be him, because—

"—Tim wouldn't hurt me," the music instructor finally murmured under his breath, taking in a deep breath and meeting Freddie's unconvinced gaze, "He couldn't. He loves me, and...and you don't hurt people you love."

The dark-haired man chuckled. "I don't believe it. You're still defending him. After all these years, he finally gave you a reason to leave, yet you refuse to see it. Why?"

"Because he didn't hurt me!" the blonde cried, sniffling as his vision began to blur and his throat started to close, "He couldn't, Freddie. He wouldn't."

Freddie dared to eliminate the space between the two of them and place a strong hand on Roger's shoulder, causing the blonde's entire body to tense up as he leaned in and whispered, "But he did, darling. He did."