Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 72

Freddie paced back and forth in Tim and Roger's flat, shooting daggers at the brunette as he waited impatiently for Nana to return with the blonde. The two had just arrived at the apartment themselves, having spent the majority of the day in town—Tim pushing off the inevitable crossing of Nana's and Freddie's paths for as long as he could by taking Roger's friend to his favorite shops and buying him whatever he so pleased, all to avoid the ridicule Tim knew the infuriated dark-haired man was waiting to unleash. The brunette's plan worked, that is, right up until the two stepped foot into the apartment, where Freddie insisted on Tim telling him exactly what happened the night before—the story only coming to him in bits and pieces throughout the day; their limited conversations cumbersome to carry on for more than a few sentences.

"So, let me get this straight," the dark-haired man muttered, grabbing at the messy strands flowing from his scalp, "You crashed your car—"

"No, Roger crashed it," Tim quickly corrected him, his head resting in the palm of his hand, his elbow on the arm of the couch, and a tired look in his sullen eyes.

"Because you were trying to get him off," Freddie sneered, unwilling to let the other man blame his friend for their situation. Tim heaved an aggravated sigh and rolled his eyes. "So, you crashed your car and called your nana, but she thinks Roger's a bird, and I've got to act like he is one when he gets here?" The brunette's cheeks reddened with embarrassment, keeping his eyes locked on the wall and his lips sealed shut. His silence was enough of an answer for Freddie, though, encouraging him to continue his interrogation by asking, "Care to tell me why in the hell that is, Tim?"

"It started off as a joke..." he reluctantly murmured, distractedly picking at the fraying fabric of the couch whose far side he occupied.

"A joke? What do you mean 'a joke'?"

"Roger and I thought it would be funny!" the brunette cried defensively, finally looking over at the angry man pacing before him. "Okay? We were bored one day, and so we got into my dad's closet. He had a box of my mum's clothes in there, and so we got messing around, and...and the next I know, Nana's barging in and Roger's dressed in drag."

Freddie shook his head, a smirk forming on his lips. "And you told her he was a girl."

"Well, yeah, what else was I supposed to do? I mean, how else was I supposed to explain it to her? That kind of thing...she...she's too old to wrap her head around something like that."

"Clearly."

"Fred, you've got to believe me. I didn't mean for it to go on this long, I swear!" The desperation and regret in Tim's plea didn't come across like he wanted it to, because for so long, Freddie and everyone else had only known him as the manipulative man who controlled every aspect of Roger's life. To hear and see that he felt remorse for his actions seemed impossible; a completely incomprehensible concept. "It just happened!"

"It just happened," Freddie repeated in mock fashion, chuckling under his breath and returning to his back-and-forth trot across the living room floor, "Everything 'just happens' with you, Tim. I mean, for fuck's sake, Roger said the exact same thing when I asked how the two of you got together. 'It just happened.'" The dark-haired man spun on his heel to face the man still seated on the couch. "What do you think that says about the two of you and your relationship, huh? Don't you think—"

The turning of the lock robbed both Freddie the chance to see his outburst to fruition and Tim the chance to defend himself from it. The door swung in, and Nana and Roger—adorned with the same attire he left the house with, having quickly changed out of it as soon as he entered the school and keeping it in his bag until the end of the day, where he waited patiently in one of the bathroom stalls to throw it back on before leaving and hopping in the car parked outside for him—appeared in the doorway.

"Freddie?" the blonde questioned, forgetting about his persona for a split second before raising his voice and forcing a weary grin on his dolled-up face, "What are you doing here?"

The dark-haired man swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, his eyes flickering over to Tim who flashed him a threatening expression that lasted only a second as Nana looked at her boy and forced him to smile at her. Freddie let out a shaky breath and returned his attention to Roger, throwing his arms forward and exclaiming, "Well, Liz, I came to surprise you, of course!" He pulled the blonde into a hug and whispered into his ear, "Meet me in your bathroom in a couple of minutes. No questions asked."

The pair split apart, Freddie grinning widely at Roger before patting him on the upper arms and turning towards Nana. "And you must be Nana. I'm Freddie; it's such a pleasure to finally meet you, dear. I've heard so much about you! All good, of course." The older woman just stared at the man before her, noticing the thick, black rings wrapped around his eyes. An awkward silence fell over the small flat that looked better than it had in months. Freddie clapped his hands together and announced, "Well, I have to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." He pointed his finger at the three, one after the other. "Don't any of you move."

Freddie sauntered off into the flat's only hallway with a sassy twirl, leaving the couple and Nana alone in the living room. Tim stood up from the couch and met Roger in the middle of the room, the corner of his lip perking upward ever so slightly before he planted a quick kiss on the blonde's cheek and escaped to the kitchen area, where he opened the refrigerator in search of a cure for his suddenly dry throat. Roger stood there with a blush rising in his cheeks before excusing himself to the bedroom to change, however, instead of slipping into the room that Nana had claimed as her own overnight, he sneaked into the bathroom where Freddie sat on the closed toilet seat, hunched over with his hands clasped together in front of him.

"What in god's name are you doing to yourself, Rog?" Freddie murmured, his sad eyes slowly meeting the blonde's.

"Look," he sighed, "It's only temporary—"

"Temporary?" the dark-haired man cut him short, yelling at him as quietly as he could under his breath, "Tim told me you've been doing this for years!"

Roger hung his head in shame, playing with the end of his tie as he struggled to come up with an explanation—something, anything to get his friend off his back.

There wasn't one.

As much as Roger confided in Freddie, there were just some things he knew the older man wouldn't understand. Tim had convinced him that their dynamic was something special, something that only made sense to the two of them, and so whatever he shared—sober—he never went into too much detail with. It all boiled down to the simple, well-rehearsed answer of: "It just happened."

"Darling," Freddie frowned, standing up from his seat and shortening the distance between him and the blonde, placing his finger underneath Roger's chin and tilting his head up. He gave him no choice but to meet his gaze, asking, "When are you going to realize it doesn't have to be like this?"

Roger's lips pressed together, the timeless, deviant response of you don't know what it's like to be me dancing on the tip of his tongue, daring to slip past his lips. However, he swallowed hard and replied with a low and arrogant, "Maybe when you stop being such a hypocrite, you fag."