Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 85

As the pair ran towards the professor's car—the frigid, snowy air pushing them along—a knot began to form in the stomach of the silhouette that had been standing in the door watching everything, unobserved. The silhouette belonged to none other than the pregnant headmistress who'd curiously retraced the blonde's steps after their encounter, her worst nightmares turning into a reality as she witnessed the two men interact—their seemingly harmless conversation escalating into something much more intimate, right before her very eyes.

Chrissie staggered away from the door in disbelief, struggling to wrap her head around the fact that history was repeating itself. She should've known—the signs were there for all to see. The growing distance, the awkward tension, the gut feeling she had, she dismissed them all because it seemed impossible. Certainly the world hadn't cursed her to fall for two different men who fancied the same person, let alone a person of the same sex. There's nothing she could've done to deserve something like that—nothing she could remember, at least.

Resentful tears spilled from the headmistress's eyes, the knot in her stomach traveling up her throat. She brought a hand up to her mouth as she gagged, abandoning her post at the set of doors to dash through the corridor and burst into the nearest bathroom.

After throwing up the contents of her stomach into one of the bowls that needed a desperate cleaning and wiping the tears from her face with the coarsest paper towels she's ever touched, Chrissie dragged herself back to the celebration that continued to thrive off the alcohol running through all her inferiors' systems. She scanned the room in search of her husband, quickly locating him on the bleachers with a man she'd never seen before—though she had seen his partner and knew him rather well.

The headmistress swallowed her nerves and dared to approach the pair, attracting their drunken glances with the not-so-subtle clearing of her throat. "I'd like to go home now, Tim," she announced, speaking more to her husband than his acquaintance.

"Noooo," the man she instantly recognized by voice whined in response, pouting his lips out into a frown and dropping his head onto Timothée's shoulder, "Don't take him away just yet. We only just started getting to know one another."

"I don't feel well," Chrissie remarked, ignoring Tim's plea and keeping her wavering gaze on her spouse. Timothée only hung his head, swirling the remnants of his beer around the bottom of the bottle. "I'd like to leave, now please."

"Well I don't," he grumbled, lifting his head to reveal his bloodshot and puffy eyes, "I'm having quite a nice time here with Tim, so why don't you ask that little professor of yours to take you home? He seems to be doing everything that I don't, anyways."

The headmistress frowned, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Please, Timothée, I'm ready to go."

"Well I'm not!" her husband snapped, shooting up from the bleachers and throwing his mostly empty drink to the ground, earning the attention of only a few of Chrissie's peers. Roger's boyfriend stifled an inebriated laugh, excitedly looking back and forth between the couple in anticipation of what was to happen next. "You can't tell me what to do anymore, Chrissie," Timothée asserted, his chest out and his hands by his sides, clenched into fists, "Not when you want a divorce at the end of the day."

"Oh shit!" Tim exclaimed, his widened eyes and smile that stretched from ear to ear making it evident that he was amused by the predicament affecting their relationship.

The couple glared at the unwanted spectator before returning their attentions to one another, Timothée explaining, "I'm not going anywhere until I want to, so you can either ask your boyfriend to take you home or you can sit down and talk with some of your colleagues till I'm ready. Alright?"

Chrissie tightened her jaw, knowing all she could say was, "Alright."

"Alright?" Tim interjected once more, "That's it? He's fucking accusing you of cheating, and all you have to say is 'alright'?"

"That's enough, Tim," Timothée muttered, placing a calming hand on the drunk party guest's shoulder. The brunette crossed his arms defiantly and stuck his tongue out at the man who towered over him like a teenager. Timothée shook his head, just as entertained as his acquaintance had just been before, and looked back at Chrissie, suggesting, "Hey, why don't you get me another drink, dear? And while you're at it, get yourself one too. You look like you could use it."

The headmistress nodded her head in submission, spinning on her heel and dragging herself over to the bar. She glanced back over her shoulder and watched as her husband sat back down on the bleachers, the man who orchestrated the events that led to where she was wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. Tim attempted engaging him in a conversation, but it was clear he had no interest in it, trying to push himself away and then hanging his head in defeat.

A similar atmosphere presided over Brian's car as it cruised down the largely empty streets of London, an awkward silence suspended in the air; disturbed only by the quiet hum of the radio.

Brian wanted to spark a conversation with the uncharacteristically reserved blonde, but all he could think of to say was that this was crazy; that it was a mistake and they should turn back around, return to the party, and act like none of this ever happened. He tried that, though. He tried to act like he didn't have feelings for Roger and look where it got him—trapped in a situation that at one point would've made his heart burst with joy, but now shook him to his very core, so much so that he ran away.

"This is crazy," Roger blurted out, seemingly reading the professor's mind as the corners of his lips curled up into a small grin. He earned a quick glance out of the corner of the Brian's eye, chuckling and hanging his head to disguise his growing smirk of disbelief. "We're actually doing this."

The curly-haired man nodded his head, unable to bring himself to provide any kind of verbal affirmation. However, his gesture was enough for the blonde, allowing him to close his eyes and rest his head against the foggy window, thinking about the life he'd been dreaming of but never thought possible. That life didn't seem so far-fetched anymore, though, and just to make sure it was really happening, he reached across the vehicle and placed a hand on Brian's thigh—once again not falling through to the seat. Brian blushed at the subtle move but kept his focus on the road, knowing if he were to react more it would take even longer for them to reach their destination. The anticipation was already painful enough.