Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 74

Later that night, after Freddie said his goodbyes and Roger and Tim suffered through a near unbearable meal with the latter's grandmother, the couple got themselves situated in the living room, the older of the two flopping down on the couch which creaked underneath his body as it settled while the younger fanned out the blanket he'd pulled from their closet and laid it down on the floor. Tim watched his boyfriend with a smirk, a mindless finger trailing an arbitrary pattern on the rough fabric beneath him as he thought of all the things they could do with Nana in the other room, passed out in their bed with heavy snores slipping past her lips.

"I could get used to this," he murmured, attracting Roger's unamused gaze. The blonde—still wearing his wig but changed into a simple t-shirt and pair of shorts that were just long enough to cover his ass—rolled his eyes and snatched the pillow he'd also brought out, tossing it at the end of the blanket opposite of where Tim's head rested. "Come on, you know I love you when you're dressed like that."

"And when I'm not?" he mused, turning his back to the brunette and trailing into the kitchen where he ripped into the refrigerator and pulled out a much-needed bottle of beer. He tore off the cap and took a quick swig of the drink that ended up draining more than half the bottle. A low groan slipped past his lips as he leaned against the counter, his head falling back and his eyes closing shut in pure bliss. He almost forgot about his question, sinking into the sunny feeling the alcohol brought him in the dark of the night, but his euphoria came to an abrupt end when a pair of hands slid around him, instantly grounding him and bringing Tim into his line of sight.

"I still love you," the older one in the couple whispered, pressing into the blonde whose face scrunched up and hands raised to meet his boyfriend's chest, gently pushing him away.

"You're so full of shit," he disagreed, the emotional impact of his words absent in the delivery but prominent in the reception as he slipped out of the small prison Tim created around him and waltzed back into the living room, his steps light and his beer pinched between his fingers. He brought the bottle back up to his lips and took another long sip, nearly finishing the drink but stopping just before the last drop to spin back around—Tim now facing him—and add, "If I'm being honest with you, I don't think you've loved me since we were teenagers. You're just keeping me around because you know you can't make it on your own. And I even bet part of you wishes I was a girl, so you wouldn't have to be so ashamed of yourself, and of me, and of our life together."

Tim gritted his teeth, wishing he had a beer of his own in that moment but remembering where drinking his problems away got him last time.

As a weighted silence fell over the small flat, Roger dragged himself over to the couch and took a seat at the end farthest away from the kitchen, biting his lip and dropping his head. The long, dark blonde locks of the wig that somehow managed to stay in place masked his face, the illusion of isolation giving him the courage to blurt out, "You know what Nana told me today?" He slowly looked up to meet his boyfriend's slightly terrified gaze. "She said I shouldn't have to put up with your nonsense, and that I deserve better."

The older of the two scoffed, his arms folded over his chest. "And you believe her crazy arse? She's senile, Roger; doesn't know what she's talking about half the time." He threw his hand in the blonde's direction. "Hell, she doesn't even know you're hiding a dick in those shorts!"

"Then maybe we should tell her," Roger suggested, a seriousness to his tone that threw Tim off.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

The younger man glanced down at the bottle hanging in his hands, swirling it around a couple times before admitting, "I just don't know how much longer I can do this, Tim. I'm getting tired of it, and it's starting to hurt. It physically fucking hurts."

"Well...you'll only have to put up with it for a little longer," he assured him, though his unconvincing sentiment fell short of providing Roger any type of comfort. "Winter's just around the corner, and...and everything will be fixed by then." He peeled himself away from the counter and joined his boyfriend on the couch, daring to sit right beside him and place a hand atop his exposed thigh. "I promise." He gave the supple skin a slight squeeze that caused Roger to twitch, his apprehensive attention being drawn to the man beside him.

Tim reluctantly pulled his hand away from the blonde's leg and brought it up to his face, caressing his cheek and tucking a piece of the wig behind his ear. Roger could sense the conflict building with his boyfriend, knowing what the brunette wanted to do but seeing that the decision wasn't as easy for him as it used to be.

Before, he'd rush him with reckless abandon, pushing him down on the couch, straddling him, and getting both of them to their climaxes before either could realize what had happened. Now, he was hesitant. He saw the fear in Roger's eyes, and the withdrawal he showed with every touch—even if it was just a simple grazing of their hands when they both reached for the salt or sugar at the table. The blonde began to wonder if his boyfriend finally realized what he'd done, and that perhaps he felt bad enough that he wanted to try and make up for it.

His hopes were met with doubt as Tim began to twirl a piece of the wig in between his fingers, tacking onto his previous remark, "It won't be long until things are back to normal again, I swear. I just need to get that stupid car back on the road, and then you and I will have this place back to ourselves, and...and then we can go back to being us. No one needs to tell anyone anything."

Roger shook his head in irritated disbelief, lightly pushing Tim away from him and getting up from the couch.

"What do you fucking want me to do, Roger?" the brunette yelled at him, considering his new, gentler approach at confronting the blonde failed to have its desired effect.

"I want you to stop making it seem like this is normal!" he shouted back. "Us, our whole life. It's not normal! We—"

Tim grabbed Roger by the shirt and pulled him close, stealing the words from the younger man's throat and growling under his breath, "Watch it, Roger. We're not the only ones here, remember?"

"Oh, fuck off!" he screamed, shoving his boyfriend back, "I hope she hears us! I hope the whole damn world hears us!"

"Roger..."

"The only reason she's here is because of you! Because you have no goddamn self-control! Because you don't know when to fucking stop! Because you...you..." He started to lose his momentum, struggling to express the thought he really wanted to.

Tim rested his hands on his hips and raised a single eyebrow, encouraging the blonde to finish his sentence.

Roger let out a defeated sigh and dropped his hands to his sides, murmuring, "Because you can't see that I don't want to do this anymore."

The brunette blinked away the tears that had formed in his eyes, tilting his head down and biting his quivering lip in an attempt to disguise the effect the blonde's confession had on him.

Roger's heart broke at the sight before him, but he couldn't deny the weight that had been lifted off his shoulders. For once, Tim had finally listened to him. It wasn't a secret, that he wanted things to change, and he didn't try to hide it, but his boyfriend never seemed to acknowledge that. Now that everything was out in the open, though, without a drop of liquor in the brunette's system, he'd heard him loud and clear.

The blonde should've felt relieved, but accompanying that relief was a great sense of guilt, because even after all the shit Tim had put him through, he loved him. He loved him, and all he wanted was for the brunette to feel the same way, but it was obvious Tim was in love with someone else. He didn't love Roger—he loved Liz. He had ever since that day in '65, and he wasn't willing to give her up. That's why he fought to keep Roger around; why he tried to keep him from accepting the position at the university, because if he lost Roger, he'd lose Liz too.

Tim sniffled and swiped his hand across his own cheek, smearing the thin, wet trail that had trickled down the side of his face. "Then what do you want to do, Roger?" he muttered, his puffy, bloodshot eyes meeting the blonde's.

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat, his face burning and his ears ringing. The truth was too much to bear, and part of him just wanted to cave like he had countless times before, but he'd come too far for that. He'd laid his cards out on the table, and he couldn't take them back. So, with a shaky breath, he replied, "I just want to be me again."