Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 81

With a hard swallow, the professor let himself into the complex, taking a quick glance at the plaque nailed to the wall that spelled out which apartments were on the first floor and which were on the second before reluctantly climbing the staircase. He trudged down the dimly lit hall that vaguely reminded him of his own home and considered turning back around, but by the time he reached Roger's flat, raised his hand, and knocked on the door, it was too late. The door had already swung in, and the blonde who made his heart skip a beat every time he laid eyes on him stood before him, a regretful expression on his face.

"Roger," Brian breathed, unable to hold back the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips and blind to the anguish exuding from the man in the threshold, "Wow, you look—" His attention was quickly drawn to Tim, the brunette adjusting the cuffs of his long-sleeve button down as he walked up behind the blonde, effectively stealing the professor's voice.

"About time you showed up, Brian," he greeted bitterly, "We were starting to worry you weren't going to come."

Roger hung his head to disguise the frown that curled his lips downward and began to play with the end of his tie, muttering, "I told him about the party, and he wanted to come with." His gaze flickered back up to Brian. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Oh, erm, no. No, n-not at all," the professor stammered, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. "I...I just have to make room in the back—"

"That's fine," Tim cut him short, pushing past the blonde and heading down the hallway, calling back, "Let's get going, you two! I want to meet this foxy headmistress Rog has been telling me all about."

Brian met the music instructor's irritated gaze with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"I'm so sorry, Brian," Roger apologized, "He wouldn't...I couldn't..."

"It's okay, Roger," he assured him, cracking a small grin.

"It's really not," the blonde disagreed, shaking his head, "I wanted tonight to be special. I needed it to be special, and then..." his voice trailed off as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, looking down the hallway in the direction Tim escaped, "...I'm just so sick of being with him. He ruins everything."

"Well he's not going to ruin tonight," Brian declared, grabbing Roger by the upper arms and flashing him an even bigger smile, "I won't let him."

Roger's heart fluttered at Brian's determination, igniting a spark of hope inside the blonde that compelled him to believe that maybe this plan would pull through; that maybe he could win this one, and that tonight would be the night.

If it wasn't for Tim charging back up the stairs and yelling at the two of them to get their arses moving, he would've pulled the curly-haired man close and crashed their lips together, stumbling back into the apartment and slamming the door behind them so they could get on with their post-party plans right then and there. Instead, he sighed and extended his hand outward, inviting Brian to lead the way. The professor nodded his head and dropped his hands to his sides, leaving the blonde to join the impatient brunette at the end of the hallway.

The couple locked eyes, engaging in yet another wordless conversation; their second of the night. Tim's narrowed gaze and folded arms warned Roger that he was watching him; that he knew what his intentions were, and he was fully prepared to do everything in his power to prevent those intentions from seeking fruition. In response, the blonde's taut lips and straightened postured showed Tim that he didn't care; that just because he was coming with them didn't mean he was going to babysit him and cling to his side the entire time—he had other plans, and they were going to happen no matter what.

This night was long overdue, and neither the professor nor the music instructor were going to let Tim's undesired presence stop them from pushing the inevitable off any longer. All it meant was that they would have be more creative in sneaking off with one another, because Tim wasn't going to be the only person they had to get away from—there was Chrissie too.

After hanging up on Brian, shoving the payphone back in its place, the headmistress paced back and forth in the hallway. With her hands woven into her hair and the click of her heels echoing off the walls of the empty corridor, she tried to calm her panicked breathing. This night was just as important to her as it was to Brian and Roger, and with each minute that the man she truly loved wasn't there, the more anxious she became.

"Hey," a quiet voice pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts, turning her around to witness her husband leaning against the wall, two glasses of champagne in his hands. "You okay?" Chrissie, with stressful tears glistening in her eyes, shook her head no. Timothée frowned and set the chutes down on the floor beside his feet, stepping forward and pulling his wife into a comforting embrace which she broke down in. "Hey, it's going to be okay," he whispered, rubbing her back in small circles for a bit before leaning back and bringing his hands up to her cheeks, his thumbs swiping across the wet streams as he continued softly, "Look, I know things have been rough these past few weeks, but we'll get through it. We always do."

"No, Timothée, you don't understand," she cried, sniffling and taking a step back out of her husband's grasp. She looked up at the ceiling and wiped underneath her eyes, her voice wavering as she repeated herself, "You don't understand."

"Then tell me," he implored, "Tell me what I don't understand."

The headmistress bit her lip, dipping her head down in shame.

"Chrissie," Timothée murmured, shortening the distance between the two of them and resting his finger underneath her chin to bring her avoidant gaze up from the floor, "What's going on?"