Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 5

Just to clear up any and all confusion, I've changed the name of this book from "It's Late" to "Some Day One Day." I decided to do this because I feel that the new title better fits the direction I want to take this book in, and I was having some trouble figuring out how to play out the other idea. Nothing's changed other than the title, so don't worry! You haven't missed anything, haha. Thanks for understanding and enjoy!

Brian stood lifelessly at the coffee machine in the teachers' lounge, listening intently to the sputters and squeals of the old, worn-down appliance in hopes the monotony would drown out the thoughts that had kept him up all night and continued into his morning. After his dream, and after he calmed Liz down enough to put her back to sleep, he couldn't stop thinking about what it all meant. He didn't want to think about it, he really didn't, but there was just something about what went down and who it went down with that he couldn't shake.

"'Morning, Brian!" Ray greeted cheerfully, slamming a hand down on his colleague's shoulder and startling him out of his stupor.

"'M-Morning, Ray," he stammered, uncomfortably adjusting the front of his suit jacket and straightening his slouched posture.

"You sure look awful," the women's studies professor observed bluntly, taking a hearty sip of his own coffee and smacking his lips obnoxiously as he formulated his follow up question. "Everything okay at home with the wifey and kid?"

"Yeah, they're fine. Everything's fine," Brian snapped, not really wanting to have the conversation but knowing his colleague's persistence had no intention of waning. It was a game of give and take with him, and Brian learned that early on—figuring out a way to entertain Ray's interrogation without really answering any of his questions, at least not in detail. That seemed impossible now that his life had become a hot topic of conversation among the students and staff. Thankfully, the only mentions of Roger were that they were awfully close, never bringing up the fact that they'd stolen kisses behind closed doors or attempted to run away with one another. All that was overshadowed by his affairs with Chrissie—their situation not the easiest to hide.

"How old is she now, anyways? The little one." Another annoying slurp interrupted the modern symphony the coffee machine was composing, and Brian had to gather every bit of strength he could in order to maintain his quickly deteriorating composure.

"A few months, Ray. She was born in August." The professor's body stuttered as he went for his wallet and pulled out a small picture of his baby girl, showing it to his colleague with a crooked grin.

"Aww, how cute," he commented, the patronizing tone in his voice failing to go unnoticed as he continued his interrogation by asking, "And when did you and Chrissie get married again? Was it March or was it April that she showed off that ring you got her to everyone?"

Brian's narrowed eyes glanced down at the man standing beside him, understanding exactly what his colleague was trying to get at. "March," he answered flatly, tucking the photograph back in his wallet, "It was March."

"Ah, right," the women's studies professor sighed, nodding his head, "I remember now, because Timothée came in shortly before that on St. Patrick's Day and made that huge scene in the courtyard—remember? And then your daughter was born six months later. Now, I'm no biology teacher, but—"

"You know what?" Brian cut him short, Ray's lips curving upward into a devious grin, "I think I'm just going to get a coffee from the café. It was nice talking with you, Ray."

"It was nice talking with you too, Brian," he replied as the taller of the two headed for the door. "We should do it more often!" he called out once the professor had disappeared into the corridor, taking a rather victorious sip of his steaming drink as he sat down at one of the tables with a few of his fellow professors.

As Brian staggered through the halls, the world around him blurred more and more with each step he took. Luckily, he made it to his classroom before losing his balance, falling into his desk and clutching onto it in a desperate attempt to stop his surroundings from spinning. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to steady his rapid breaths, unsuccessfully reaching his desired calm before someone opened his classroom door and peeked their head in.

"Professor May?"

Brian turned his head over his shoulder, his eyes falling upon his favorite student. "John," he greeted as kindly as he could manage, turning to face the awkward, lanky boy—whose hair had been cut over the summer to a much more acceptable length according to his peers—and folding his arms over his chest, "How's that piece coming along?"

"Good, good," he answered, nodding his head but remaining in the doorway as if he was afraid of entering the classroom. "But, erm, I-I came to see you because I saw you in the halls just now, and you didn't look very good. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Brian blushed at the student's compassion, a snippet of his dream from the night prior flashing before him, the feeling resurfacing too. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, muttering, "That...That's very nice of you, John. Yes, I'm okay. Thank you for checking in on me."

Based on the way he couldn't fully make eye contact with him, John sensed that his professor wasn't being entirely honest, and quite frankly didn't welcome his presence—a reoccurring impression he learned to recognize over the past one and a half semesters. With that in mind, he didn't feel that it was his place to press the issue further, and so instead, he smiled bashfully and knocked on the threshold. "Anytime, Professor."