Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 77

The music instructor took another sip of the drink that didn't belong to him, making an obscenely loud and enduring noise as he did so. Brian crossed his arms in annoyance, cocking his head to the side as he waited for Roger to finish. When he did, the blonde set the cup back down and asked, "What about Chrissie?"

"She's not going with me," the professor disclosed rather curtly, the betrayal he felt when the news was first shared with him resurfacing with no remorse whatsoever, "She...She's bringing her husband." His voice was but a mere whisper by the end of the weakly delivered sentence.

Roger scoffed, smirking out of a deadly combination of disbelief and inspiration. "She's still with the bloke? God, I figured since you two were going at it every day that she'd left him. We all did."

Brian's cheeks burned a deep shade of red, the situation all around shameful and embarrassing. He felt like a hypocrite for forgiving the headmistress for her deceit, and for continuing to see her after learning about Timothée. Their arrangement seemed somewhat out of his control, but under all the denial and lies he told himself to fall asleep at night, he knew he voluntarily went along with it because it made up for what he couldn't have, what he really wanted—Roger.

"Well," the blonde drawled, lifting himself up out of the chair and stretching his arms back, crossing them over his head before dropping them down to his hips, "Since it seems you've got no one else to go with—unless you want to take John as your date, because I know he'd just love it if you asked him—I suppose I can go with you. On one condition."

"Anything." The hope in the professor's voice caused him even more embarrassment, but as Roger stepped out from the small space between his chair and the table and shortened the distance between them, the red in Brian's cheeks took on an entirely new purpose. His face grew warm, and his pants tight. His heart pounded against his chest, and his breathing picked up, the blonde so close to him that he could smell the mouthwash on his breath.

"You take me back to your place afterwards," he whispered, the corner of his lip twitching upward as his newly acquired, seemingly pulled-out-of-thin-air plan was set in motion.

Brian's eyes grew wide at Roger's request. Was this finally happening? Was this his chance he'd been waiting for, to finally do something about the nagging desire to be with the blonde, even if it was just for one night?

Roger's eyes traveled down the professor's chest, and his smirk evolved into a full-on grin—pleased by Brian's wordless answer to his proposal. He glanced back up at the flustered man standing before him and asked, "So, when does this stupid party start?"

"Uh...um..." the older of the two stammered, shaking his head to snap himself out of the daze he'd fallen into and taking a cautious step back, "Eight. It starts at eight."

"Pick me up at eight thirty, then, or even nine," the music instructor retorted, administering him a harsh but friendly smack on the arm, "No earlier, though." He pointed a finger at him and raised his eyebrows. "Showing up early is for losers, loser."

Brian forced a nervous chuckle out of himself, watching as Roger winked and went to leave the room, but not before snatching the mug up from the table and downing the rest of the now cold, tasteless beverage. The professor fumbled when Roger carelessly tossed the cup at him, Brian catching the fragile porcelain in his arms and holding it close to his still beating chest. He flinched when the door slammed shut behind the blonde, his head spinning as he tried to make sense of how their heavily one-sided conversation ended up with them agreeing to go to the Christmas party together, and then to his place when it was over.

"Brian—"

"Shit!" the professor exclaimed, dropping the mug that shattered by his feet and turning around to see the music instructor in the doorway, clinging to the threshold with his body hid behind the wall and his head peering around it. "Shit," he repeated himself with much less conviction, disappointedly looking at the broken glass and bending down to clean it up. "What is it, Roger?" he asked, the question coming off more tersely than he intended it to, "Did you come back to tell me to pick you up even later? Or that you've given it some thought and don't want to go at all now?"

"Yes, in the two seconds that passed since I left the room, I've completely changed my mind," the blonde replied sarcastically, a grin crawling onto his face as Brian tossed a pointed glare in his direction. He tilted his head down out of bashfulness of the blush that rose in his cheeks and corrected his snide remark by saying, "No, Brian, I just...I'm really glad you finally decided to do something."

The professor inwardly smiled, standing back up and transferring the shards of porcelain to the bin tucked beside the counter. "Wear something nice," he told him, keeping his back to the music instructor as he smiled even more, "It's a semi-formal event, and only real losers show up wearing jeans and sneakers."

Roger rolled his eyes, lingering in hopes of catching a glimpse of Brian's face before he truly left. However, the professor didn't turn around, shifting his focus to the dirty dishes in the sink and taking it upon himself to clean them instead. The blonde pressed his lips together before peeling himself away from the threshold, trudging down the deserted hallway that was soon to be flooded with students, his hands shoved in his pockets and adrenaline pumping through his veins.

This was it.

This was his way out; it always had been. Freddie was right. The gig at the university was only his means of getting here. Imperial College wasn't the opportunity he was looking for—Brian was, and if he could pull this off and Brian didn't change his mind last minute, maybe he'd be able to leave Tim once and for all. Maybe he'd finally be able to be himself; to not have to live a lie because it doesn't have to be like this.