Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 65

The blonde's cheeks evolved into a faint shade of red, wordlessly thanking his friend for being so understanding, or if not understanding, accepting of the situation. Accepting didn't properly describe the feeling either, though, because the gesture seemed more tolerating than accepting. That's how it always had been for the two, and Roger cherished that. Freddie was the one person he could always count on to be there, no matter what he did or said, and naturally he treated him the same way. He sometimes wondered if they were soulmates in that sense.

As the couple staggered towards the car, Tim whimpered and dropped his head on Roger's shoulder, turning inward and blocking the blonde's path. He clung to the music instructor's jacket and buried his face into Roger's warm chest, mumbling, "I fucked up, Rog. I really fucked up."

The blonde heaved an exhausted sigh and reluctantly wrapped his arms around Tim, thinking about what to say and resting his cheek against Tim's disheveled hair. He dragged his hands over Tim's shoulder blades, which began to vibrate with sorrow.

"I just don't want to lose you!" he cried, thrusting himself away from Roger and tripping over his own feet, their car catching him before he could cripple to the ground. He clutched the smooth metal for support with quivering lips and blurring vision, muttering through the drool that had gathered in his mouth, "We used to be so happy, Rog, and...and then you ruined it! You fucking ruined it, and now look at us. We're a thousand miles apart even though we're standing right across from each other. How did that—"

The blonde flew forward as Tim slumped against the car door, his hands not reaching out far enough in time to prevent his boyfriend from landing harshly on the cold, hard ground. He tried to save the failed gesture by running his hand behind his head, muttering an inaudible "For fuck's sake, Tim," and tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear.

Tim hiccuped and glanced up at Roger towering over him. "Why don't you just leave me already?" he grumbled, "I know that's what you're trying to do, so why don't you just do it already?"

The drunk's harsh words tugged at Roger's lips, which formed a frown as he swept in and slipped his hands underneath the brunette's arms, denying him the satisfaction of a response while he lifted him up and opened the car door behind him. He sat his boyfriend down in the passenger seat and buckled him in like a child, going to close the door and round the car to get in himself when Tim stuck his hand out, keeping the door open.

"Just tell me one thing, Rog." He sniffled and looked up at the pair of tired blue eyes that glistened in the moonlight. The words he wanted to say got caught in his throat, and before he was finally able to vocalize his demand, he brought a timid hand up to the blonde's chest. His fingers ran over the fabric, pulling him into a trance that he eventually tore himself from and asked, "Do you mean it when you tell me you love me?"

Roger bit his lip, tears threatening to waver in his eyes as he enwrapped Tim's hand in his and nodded his head yes, knowing the action spoke the words he couldn't bring himself to say, for they lacked substance. Tim brightened at this false sense of hope the gesture gave him and allowed the blonde to finally close the door, dropping his hand into his lap and throwing his legs into the cabin. Roger took a step back from the car and turned his head over his shoulder, spotting Freddie spying in the front window. The blonde's eyebrows furrowed together as the dark-haired man gasped and disappeared from his post, retreating to the comforts of his home.

The music instructor rolled his eyes and slid into the driver's seat, searching the car for its keys. His eyes landed on the small budge in Tim's pants pocket, his question answered in the most unfavorable way. He heaved a sigh, slowly looking up at his boyfriend whose head drooped forward—his eyes shut and his lips slightly parted, soft snores slipping past them—and daring to reach his hand across the center console, slipping it into the pocket and fishing for the keys. He'd just made contact with the warm metal when Tim hummed in delight, a smile crawling onto his face and his head falling back on the headrest. "Someone's eager."

The blonde scoffed and tore his hand out of the brunette's pants, the set of keys pinched between his fingertips. "I'm just trying to get us home."

"Oh, come on," he whined, turning his head to the side and meeting Roger's tired eyes with heavily intoxicated ones, "When's the last time we did it in a car?"

"That time I strained my back and you mooned a cop, and we agreed on no more car sex," Roger answered straightforwardly, shoving the keys in the ignition and turning it over.

The engine roared to life, the low rumble masking Tim's muttered, "I don't remember agreeing to that," as he crossed his arms over his chest and Roger backed out of the driveway.

The vehicle coasted down the street, an awkward silence consuming the atmosphere. Tim stared lustfully at Roger, the shadows giving the blonde a beauty that only the dark could give. Without thinking, the alcohol coursing through his veins preventing him from doing so, he dropped his hand onto Roger's crotch and squeezed roughly, causing the blonde to scream and nearly jump out of his seat, the car swerving left and right before being pulled back into the lane.

"Fucking Christ, Tim!" he yelled, grabbing the drunkard's hand and throwing it back at him, "What do you think you're doing?" His heart pounded against his chest and his cheeks burned in embarrassment, his terrified gaze flickering between his boyfriend and the street ahead.

"I want to make it up to you...show you how much I love you and need you...you know how bad I am with words," Tim slurred, crawling towards the driver—right over the stick shift and the console—and placing his hands on the blonde's cheeks, wanting to bring their lips together.

"Tim! Stop!" Roger shouted, trying to keep his eyes on the road but struggling to do so as his boyfriend began planting sloppy kisses all along the side of Roger's face, with the blonde's mouth as their intended destination. The music instructor shrugged Tim off several times and even plucked his hand from the steering wheel to block his advances, all while the speedometer crept higher, the engine's hum grew louder, and their surroundings passed by in an intensifying blur. Neither of the men noticed, though, the brunette relentless in his endeavor despite Roger's desperate attempts to push him away.

"Stop it, Tim! I can't—" A blaring car horn replaced his voice, instantly drawing the two men's attention forward.

His sentence went unfinished.