Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 56

"Um..." The professor scratched behind his head, racking it for an answer he could give her. It obviously wasn't smart to tell her the truth. Oh, this is Roger's best friend. I went to his house last weekend, got absolutely pissed, and confessed my feelings about Roger to him. He says I'm gay, and he might be right, but who knows? "He's, uh..."

"I'm looking for cigarettes, hon, and this old bat won't tell me where to find them," the dark-haired man brazenly cut in, throwing a hand at Brian and eliciting a raised eyebrow from Chrissie who was still staring at the professor in anticipation of a more satisfactory explanation. "'Said you're a university and that you don't have them, but what kind of university doesn't have cigarettes? Or students who smoke?"

Brian cleared his throat, blurting out, "He's an exchange student."

Freddie gasped in disgust and threw his hands on his hips. "Excuse me?"

"Brian." Chrissie dropped a consolatory hand on his shoulder, though it wasn't long before she retracted it—not wanting anyone, even a stranger, to catch on to their intimacy—and muttered as unpatronizingly as she could, "I'm the headmistress. I would know if he was an exchange student."

"Yeah, Brian," the falsely accused exchange student sneered, his brown eyes narrowing, "She's the headmistress. She would know."

The professor shook his head, so flustered by the situation he found himself in that he'd rendered himself speechless. All he wanted to do was have a little alone time with Chrissie, clear his head of all the chaos that his life had suddenly welcomed, and get on with his day, but of course, here was Roger getting in the way of that again with a visit from his friend who had no business being at the university. It was a closed campus, after all.

"I'm sorry, but who are you again?" the headmistress questioned, still not having learned the dark-haired man's name.

"I'm Freddie Mercury, darling, and it's an absolute pleasure to meet you." He boldly snatched Chrissie's hand in his and shook it, flashing her one of his infamous grins while widening his eyes at Brian—the professor tilting his head down in shame. Freddie shifted his gaze back to the headmistress, smiling even wider than before, and said, "Roger Taylor's a good friend of mine, and I heard you gave him a job here. I was hoping to surprise and congratulate him, but I couldn't find his room and I seem to have forgotten a gift for him. He's a big fan of cigarettes—something about how they settle his nerves—and it would mean the world to him if you'd tell me where I can find them."

His charm failed to have the desired effect on the headmistress, Chrissie slipping her hand out of his and speaking to Brian without breaking her stare with the flamboyant man, "I think you should show Mr. Mercury the way out, Mr. May. I'll wait for you, in the meantime."

"Y-Yes, Chr—Headmistress Mullen," the professor stammered, hastily leading Freddie away and up the stairs and walking him down the deserted hallway like a student who had just committed a delinquent act.

"Hey, watch it!" Freddie cried as Brian's grip on his leather jacket tightened, "You're going to rip it!"

Once they rounded the corner, the professor relinquished his hold of the dark-haired man and turned towards him, leaning in close and shouting under his breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Savings yours and my arses, that's what!" Freddie retorted just as angrily, "Calling me an exchange student, that's the best thing you could come up with? Just because my skin's a little darker than yours? Because I've got an exotic look?"

Brian pushed his fingers through his curls and heaved an aggravated sigh, explaining as calmly as he could manage—which wasn't very calm at all, "I panicked, all right? You...Your presence threw me off! What were you even doing down there?"

"Well, if you listened to me, you would know!" Freddie snapped back, his voice hushed but full of emotion.

The professor scoffed, realizing he was wasting his time with the music instructor's friend, and shoved his hand into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled change from his lunch and fitting it into Freddie's clenched palm. "Here. There's a group of students who usually hang around the back of the Queen's Tower. They've got all sorts of stuff; I'm sure they have cigarettes for Roger."

"What, so now you're going to be like his Sugar Daddy and not pay him any attention? Buy him off with your..." he unfolded his fist and counted the currency like a child learning to add, "...two notes and twenty pence? You think those goons are going to sell me cigarettes for two notes and twenty pence? Is that all Roger's worth to you? Two notes and twenty pence?"

"That's all I've got, Fred," Brian murmured embarrassedly, "I don't know what else you want me to do."

"I want you to forget about your little meeting with the headmistress and tell Roger what you told me last Friday," the dark-haired man demanded, clasping his hand dramatically around the petty cash Brian had offered him, "He's never going to leave Tim if you don't tell him how you feel."

"But Fred—"

"Look, I know you're scared. You think you've got a lot to lose and you're not sure if it's worth it, but Roger's right there with you. We all are, every one of us, and although it might not seem like it, I bet you he's willing to risk it if you are. You've just got to let him know. So please, Brian, I beg you—for the love of gays everywhere—when you get back down there, tell him how you feel. I can't stand seeing him like this, and I find it hard to believe you don't feel the same way."

Brian's eyes flickered over to the clock suspended at the end of the hallway and bit his lip, the anticipation of his and Chrissie's closet meeting, mixed the intensifying desire to avoid this inevitable situation with Roger, making him antsy. He swallowed the lump in his throat and reluctantly returned his attention to Roger's friend, responding with a beaten down, "Fine. I will."

"Good," the dark-haired man muttered, folding his arms over his chest and asking with a smirk, "So, how long should I take? Ten, twenty, thirty minutes?"