Funny How Love Is (Maylor AU)

Chapter 98

Each man took a side of the piano and carefully maneuvered it around the scattered papers and other instruments and out of the room. A rather pleasant silence fell over the two as they traversed the basement corridor with Roger leading the way, walking backwards with his head turned over his shoulder to make sure he didn't bump into any passing students or teachers or, even more embarrassing, a wall. Meanwhile, Brian pushed the piano along and watched the blonde with saddened raptness. It seemed as though that with each step closer to the lift, the greater the distance between them grew.

"So," the professor eventually blurted out, regaining the unemployed music instructor's attention and losing his train of thought at the same time. The only words that successfully fumbled from his mouth were, "Y-You look good."

Roger blushed at the awkwardly delivered comment, averting his gaze back over his shoulder and replying sarcastically, "Thanks. It's a new trend called 'I don't have to wear makeup anymore because Tim fixed the car and Nana went back home.' The lady at the counter said it looked absolutely perfect on me, so I'm glad to hear it's working."

Brian forced out a laugh, trying to play it cool but inevitably failing. He struggled to sort out his fleeting thoughts: questions he had for the blonde, answers he needed in order to go on with his life, but none could be expressed in the face of the man he hadn't seen since he reluctantly dropped him off at his flat after their night at the hotel. They hadn't spoken all break—the professor too fearful of worsening their situation by attempting to reach out to his former colleague. What would he even say? What could he even say? He didn't know.

The pair had almost reached the lift when he finally asked, "So what are you going to do now, you know, now that you don't work here? Do you have another job lined up?"

The blonde smirked, mumbling, "You're such a worrier, Brian."

"Well, Roger, when you went back to Tim—"

"Do you have your key?" he cut him short, the piano coming to an abrupt stop against his body—the soft blow eliciting a slight grunt from him. He stared expectantly at Brian, leaning against the instrument with arms folded atop the lid and his shoulders up to his ears. The professor clenched his jaw and slowly circled the instrument, stopping right beside Roger and looking down at him. The blonde slowly met his gaze, a twinkle of fear glimmering in his blue eyes.

The two stood like that for what felt like hours, when in reality, the thinnest hand on the clock suspended on the wall a few doors back had only traveled from the three down to the five. Brian appeared to have something to say—indicated by his shift in stance and the way his lips parted, drawing Roger's attention and coating his mouth with a lustful layer of drool—but instead he remained quiet, becoming more and more undone the longer they captured each other's gazes.

When the moment became too heated, the tension between them so electric it could be felt at the opposite end of the corridor, Brian turned away from the equally unraveled blonde and inserted his prize key into the lift's lock. His cheeks burned a bright shade of red as he noticed the slight protrusion in his pants, taking a quick peek behind him to see if he wasn't alone in his predicament. Sure enough, he wasn't; the growing blush in Roger's face and slight, subtle adjustment of his pants said it all. However, the blonde wasn't impervious to the glance that had been directed his way and instinctively met it, effectively scaring it away and making the professor turn the lock.

"You know, things are going to be different this time," Roger murmured, his confession pricking up the professor's ears but not enough to have him spin back around. "We're getting a fresh start."

Brian kept his lips sealed, tearing open the lift gates and pressing the button to bring the elevator to their floor.

"And you are too," he offered, desperation in his voice as he plucked himself away from the piano and took the few small steps to shorten the distance between him and the professor. "With Chrissie, and the baby—"

"I didn't want them," he muttered, peering at the music instructor out of the corner of his eye to say, "I wanted you. I wanted a fresh start with you."

Roger frowned, daring to place a hand on the professor's arm. "Brian..."

Just as Brian shrugged Roger's hand off his sleeve, the lift bell rang. Without saying another word, the older of the two returned to his position at the far side of the piano and looked to the younger to do the same. The blonde heaved a sigh and followed the wordless instruction, rolling the instrument into the tight space and letting it form a barrier between them as Brian pushed the button for the ground floor. The lift had only just begun moving when the professor allowed his impulses to take over and stopped the elevator before it could reach their destination.

"What the fuck, Brian?" Roger yelled over the blaring alarm, the box around them shaking as it settled into its sudden stationary position in between the two floors.

"I just need to know why," he explained, a controlled calmness to his request as he met the blonde's narrowed gaze, "It's all I've been thinking about ever since that morning, what you said, and I just...I don't understand."

Roger crossed his arms. "What don't you understand?"

"Everything," the professor admitted, squeezing himself out from the tight space the piano confined him to. "It makes no sense to me why you went back to him after what he did to you."

The blonde's hands tightened into fists underneath his arms, the predicament that had been plaguing him for far too long rehashing the emotions he fought hard to suppress. Bottling up his true feelings and living in this self-constructed fantasy of denial was the only way he could make light of the situation he found himself in. He knew it wasn't ideal, and he knew it wasn't his best choice, but like he told Brian on their ride back, he didn't have another one.

Tim was going to change, for real this time.

He promised.