The dark-haired man's eyes tripled in size, Roger's eyes mirroring Freddie's as his final word hung heavy in the air. The two stared at each other, much like the couple did the night prior, and just like that moment of the past, the blonde was the first to cave; to realize the error in his ways. "Freddie, I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean—"
Roger's head jerked to the side, his cheek stinging like Freddie's palm as the older of the two smacked him across the face. The blonde couldn't hold back the yelp that the action pulled out of him, or the punch that followed—his fist colliding with the dark-haired man's abdomen. Freddie doubled over in pain, growling at the blonde before charging at him and pushing him into the bathroom door. The two struggled in one another's grasps, kneeing and clawing and scratching at one another until Roger's rage suddenly evolved into terror, memories of previously-had fights flashing before him—the situations very different but the sheer feeling of horror just the same. "Stop, stop, stop," he muttered, his body tensing up under Freddie's hold, "Stop! STOP!"
The two men separated in the blink of an eye—the older staggering back to the edge of the bathtub while the younger slowly slid down to the ground, hugging himself in a pathetic attempt for comfort. They sat in silence, catching their strained breaths as the intense but short-lived moment lingered in their minds, Roger closing his eyes to block out the flashbacks and Freddie tucking his head into his chest, regret washing over him about his reaction.
"Hey, is everything okay in there?" Tim's voice resonated outside the door, the two friends sharing a quick glance that sanctioned the wordless conversation they couldn't verbalize.
"I-I'm fine, Tim!" Freddie reluctantly called back, "I just..." He looked at Roger, hoping for an explanation he could give, but the blonde provided him no such answer. He left him to survey the small space, his dark brown eyes skimming the room before landing on a discarded sock on the floor and drawing an inspired gasp out of him. "I slipped on a sock!" Roger raised a suspicious eyebrow, a small grin appearing on Freddie's face as he added, "I think I'll be okay, though. N-No need to check on me!"
The blonde's boyfriend responded with a slight grunt and the sound of his footsteps as he walked away, leaving the two friends to try and contain their laughter at the situation. The tension that once filled the small room quickly dissipated, Freddie standing up from the tub's edge and crossing the tiny space with his hand extended outward. Roger stared at the hand, a sense of déjà vu washing over him as he remembered when Brian stood before him yesterday after discovering him in the dark classroom. He gulped and placed his hand in Freddie's, allowing the dark-haired man to pull him to his feet.
The pair once again could only look at one another, the words they wanted to say getting caught in their throats.
Roger wanted to apologize for what he'd said and done, but he knew his apologies meant nothing to Freddie. The dark-haired man didn't need them; didn't want them; felt as though they were unnecessary considering their close friendship. The lives they led were comprised of bad decisions, one after another, so as long as they stuck by each other's sides through each and every one of them, no apologies were needed—at least, that's how Freddie saw it, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
So, instead of letting his remorseful words fall upon deaf ears, the blonde sniffled and wiped away the tear that slipped from his eye, asking, "Care to stay and have dinner with us? Nana's cooking, so you know it's going to be better than anything Tim or I could whip up."
A small grin appeared on the dark-haired man's face. "As inviting as that sounds, Rog, I just came over to check on you; see if you were okay." Roger dared to meet Freddie's concerned gaze. "You didn't call me last night."
The music instructor chuckled sadly, bringing a nervous hand to the back of his neck. "Yeah, about that—"
"Tim already told me," Freddie interrupted him, much less aggressively this time around as a redness that matched the blonde's quickly filled his cheeks. He tilted his head down and continued, "I just worry about you, Rog. I really do. He's—"
"—my boyfriend, and we'll be okay, Freddie," the blonde insisted, regaining his friend's doubtful attention, "If you would've let me finish earlier, this..." he gestured towards himself, "...is just temporary."
"And what if it's not, Roger? Are you just going to keep dressing in drag for the rest of your life, pretending to be someone you're not?" The question stunned the pair silent, the awkward tension filling the room once more. Freddie shook his head, pushing past the pause in their conversation, and brought a hand up to his forehead. "Why don't you come home with me tonight?"
"Freddie..."
"Look, Mary and I have a spare room—"
"She hates me, Fred."
"I don't care if she hates you!" the dark-haired man cried, throwing his hand back down to his side and placing it on his hip. "I'd rather you spend the night with me as Roger than here with Tim and his crazy grandmother as...as..."
"Liz, Fred," Roger reminded him, uncomfortably folding his arms over his padded chest. "I go by Liz; you know that."
"Please, Rog," Freddie begged, tears pricking his sad eyes, "Don't do this to yourself."
Roger stared at him for a while before taking a deep breath and scratching the back of his head, the wig moving with his fingers. "So, that's no to dinner?"
YOU ARE READING
Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)
Fanfiction==COMPLETED== "Music instructor?...That doesn't make sense. We don't have a music program here." Brian May is a professor at Imperial College London, and being one of the youngest teachers there, he often feels out of place. That is, until he meets...