Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 18

Brian and Chrissie walked through the university's halls together, an air of tension surrounding them. Neither of them had gotten much sleep the previous night, their conversation weighing heavily on their minds and keeping them on opposite sides of the bed, facing away from one another. When morning came, they walked on eggshells around each other. They forced smiles on their faces when they dropped Liz off with Ruth. They waved to their colleagues as they passed by them. They even engaged in some small talk in the teachers' lounge. But deep down, all they wanted to do was be alone and try to deal with their unresolved problem that had been festering long before Brian's dream.

The pair turned the corner and were stopped in their tracks by the sight of someone waiting outside the headmistress's office. They peeled themselves away from the wall and straightened their posture, adjusting the strap of their messenger bag. "Chrissie Mullen?"

"Yes?" the headmistress replied, leaning into Brian who looked curiously between the stranger and his wife. "How can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Gordon Sumner," he introduced himself, extending his hand out for a handshake, "I'm the replacement for, erm..." he tilted his head down and shoved a hand into his bag, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and unfolding it, "...Ray Foster?"

"Oh, yes!" Chrissie exclaimed, shaking her head and breaking away from her husband's side, "Yes, I'm so sorry. I hope you haven't been waiting here long."

"Not long at all," he assured her with a small grin as she fumbled with her keys and unlocked her office door, pushing it in.

"Why don't you take a seat in my office?" the headmistress suggested, flashing the newest addition to the Imperial College staff a welcoming smile, "I'll be in in just a short moment."

The young substitute professor nodded his head in agreement and escaped inside the office, leaving Chrissie to return her attention to Brian, who raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"What happened to Ray?" the curly-haired professor asked, not knowing that the women's studies teacher was due to take leave.

The headmistress bit her lip, averting her gaze to the floor.

Her blatant avoidance of the question made Brian certain that whatever happened must have been some sort of an emergency, especially since, just two days ago, Ray was giving him shit about his relationship with Chrissie and seemed perfectly healthy—or as healthy as a chain-smoking alcoholic could be. However, Brian also found it hard to believe that the emergency was family related, because although the two professors had never really considered themselves friends, he knew that Ray didn't have any family. His parents were long gone, he had no siblings, his wife divorced him three years ago, and there were no children involved in the separation. That left only one other explanation.

"Is he okay?"

"I-I don't know, Brian," Chrissie stuttered, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear, "Probably."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not something I can really discuss with you, Bri," she asserted, a remorseful look in her eyes. It was in that moment that the professor realized how far he and the headmistress had come. What used to be an exhilarating, exciting, behind-closed-doors fling—full of laughter, surprise, and little gifts such as keys to the lift—had now become a real relationship, with responsibilities and boundaries that before they didn't have to worry about.

He had no doubt in his mind that, a year ago, Chrissie would have spilled all the details right then and there without a moment of hesitation. She would have pulled him into one of the open classrooms, locked the door, and described to him the tragedy that led to the demise of the misogynistic women's studies teacher like it was a story she was writing. Now she couldn't even assure him that Ray was okay.

"We'll talk later, yeah?" was all she said, snapping Brian out of the stupor he had fallen into with a quick kiss on his lips. She smiled before she slipped into her office, leaving the professor alone in the hall with the soft click of the door. He frowned and sulked off to his classroom, closing the door behind him and turning around—only to be thrown back into it by the sight of an unexpected guest.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up."

"Paul, what the hell are you doing here?" the professor asked with wide eyes, his hand over his racing heart.

The janitor hopped down from his post atop the corner of Brian's desk and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coveralls. "I just wanted to check in with you; see how you're holding up after what happened," he explained, taking slow strides in his direction.

Brian's raised a curious eyebrow. "What happened?"

"You didn't hear?" Paul pouted, stopping right in front of the taller man as a sly grin slowly tugged at the corners of his lips. "Oh, how naïve you still are, Brian, after all that's changed in your pathetic excuse of a life." The janitor chuckled under his breath and made a sharp turn with his heel, waltzing over to one of the desks in the front of the room. Brian swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and peeled himself away from the door, slipping his bag over his head and dropping it into his chair. "It's quite a funny story, actually," Paul divulged with a growing smirk, resting his chin atop his folded hands and his elbows on the desktop. "You want to hear it?"

The professor shimmied out of his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair, sighing, "I would love to, Paul, but I've got a class in an hour or so that I need to prepare for. So, if you wouldn't mind—"

"Oh, fuck your class. That sleazebag women's studies teacher got jumped last night!"

Paul's exclamation immediately caught Brian's attention, knowing exactly who the janitor was referring to—Ray.

"To make matters worse..." Paul continued, moving to the edge of the chair he sat in and clinging onto the front edge of the desk, "...it happened at a gay bar. Can you believe it? A gay bar. I always knew something was off about him. Did you? He sure does seem to like you...always talking with you in the mornings and whatnot."

Brian scoffed at the memory of his and Ray's conversation yesterday morning, and how chats like that equated to Ray taking a fancy to him in Paul's mind. "The only thing he likes about me is how embarrassing my reputation here is." He turned to face the janitor and crossed his arms. "So, no, I didn't know."

"Maybe it's for the best," Paul suggested, sitting back, crossing his legs atop the desk, and resting his hands behind his head. "After all, being associated with someone like him wouldn't be any better for your reputation than your affair with the headmistress. Would it?"

"Get your feet off my desk, Paul," the professor muttered, not liking where the conversation was headed.

The janitor narrowed his eyes and threw his feet back to the floor, leaning forward and saying, "Look, Brian, I know everything that goes on in this school. I also know that you were at that same bar a little while ago—a good friend of mine told me all about it."

Brian tried to suppress the blush that crept up in his cheeks. "Wh-Who is that?"

The widest grin yet broke out onto Paul's face. "Think about it, Bri. Who else do you know goes to that bar?"