Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 39

Tim chuckled and folded his arms across his chest, a disbelieving smirk appearing on his face. "You're going to be in a band." Roger hummed in agreement. "Since when were you looking for a band to join?"

"I wasn't! I-I was just doing my job at the café, and the owner—"

"The one you said was giving you a promotion? That was his promotion?"

Here it comes, Roger thought to himself, his relief premature. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair and explained, "You know, we're really good, Tim, and I know that if I pass up this opportunity, I won't get another."

The brunette scoffed. "And what makes you think that this opportunity won't end up like your last one?" The red in Roger's cheeks intensified. "You said the same thing about the last 'gig' you got, Rog, and what happened then?" Tim shot up from the chair and nearly lost his balance as the world around him began to tip to the side. He clutched the table for support, trying his best to focus on his boyfriend who stared back at him with glistening eyes, and growled, "You fell in love with someone, got your heart broken, and forced us to move halfway across the world—away from all our friends and family—just so you wouldn't have to see his face every day and be reminded of the mistake you made. Are you going to fall in love with this guy too? Believe that he can solve all your problems; take you away from me once and for all?"

Roger's silence provided the answer that his voice didn't.

Tim staggered around the table—pushing through the pain and keeping a hand on it so he wouldn't fall—and towered over the blonde to say, "You know what, Roger? Go ahead. Leave. I'm not going to try and stop you." The blonde's eyes doubled in size. "You wanna know why?"

"B-Because you realized this relationship isn't working anymore?" he stammered.

"Oh, honey, no. Not at all," he patronizingly disagreed, cupping the blonde's cheek and rubbing his thumb across the warm, smooth surface, "It's because I know that you're going to come back to me. You always do, and you always will. And you know what? Because I love you, and you love me, I'll be right here waiting for you, ready to take you back and pick up the pieces of your shattered, stupidly hopeful heart." With that final, chilling sentiment, Tim leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on Roger's lips, the manipulative grin he'd adorned slowly fading as he pulled back and slunk into their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

The loud sound startled Roger, causing him to flinch just like it had his boyfriend—the effects of last night not yet conquered by the painkillers he'd taken—and leaving him to sit alone with Tim's words weighing down on him. Whatever confidence he gained this morning with Stewart by his side was now but a distant memory, obliterated in a matter of minutes by the brunette. Roger's tearful eyes flickered over to the phone, the slip with Stewart's telephone number still beside it. He felt a pull towards the device, to pick it up, call the café owner, and tell him that he'd need to find a new guitarist. However, he didn't get the chance to truly consider the option before the phone began to ring on its own.

Roger raised a suspicious eyebrow before standing up and taking one careful step after the other towards the couch, where he sat down and cautiously answered the call. He brought the phone up to his ear and asked, "H-Hello?"

"Roger?"

He straightened his posture. "Freddie?"

"Roger! Thank goodness it's you. I really didn't want to have to get to you through Tim. He always gives me such a hard time when I call. You know how he is."

"I do," the blonde admitted, scratching the back of his head and shamefully glancing over at the closed bedroom door. He frowned and dropped the hand behind his head down to his lap. "Anyways, uh, what's going on? Everything okay?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, but you will not believe who came to my house last night."

"Who?"

Freddie chuckled. "Guess, Roger. You never want to guess."

The blonde rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips perking up at his friend's accusation. "I don't know, Fred. Paul, maybe?"

"No, god, I wish. Even he wouldn't have made the night as awkward as it was. But you're close!" Despite not being able to see his friend, Roger could see Freddie twirling the phone cord around his finger and biting his lip in anticipation of his friend's conjecture. "Guess again."

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing there was only really one other person who would be as close a guess as Paul. "What was he doing at your house, Freddie?" he muttered sullenly, curling in on himself and feeling as though this morning was getting progressively worse.

"He wasn't!" the dark-haired man exclaimed, relieving some of the pressure from the blonde's mind, "I mean, I wanted him to be. I invited him over for drinks and he totally blew me off; left me alone with Mary and her friend. Fucking arsehole."

"Fred..."

He sighed. "I just don't like getting stood up, Roger. You of all people should know that."

The blonde laughed and sat back into the couch. "Yes, Freddie, I remember very fondly the time I couldn't make it to the club and you threw a brick through my window, yelling at me to never leave you alone at a club again."

"I think I threw a 'fucking' in there, but you got the point."

Roger shook his head, smiling. He missed Freddie, and although there were several people in New York City like him, they weren't the same. Freddie was one of a kind, and Roger couldn't wait to see him again when he was back in London. He was tempted to bring it up, knowing that the news about the gig would be better received by his friend than it had his boyfriend, but he knew if he did, the two would never circle back around to the first story. "So, who was it if it wasn't Brian?" he asked, guiding Freddie's train of thought back on track.

The dark-haired man clicked his tongue. "Right, right. We were talking about who came over last night." A faint shuffling sounded on the other end of the line, Freddie getting himself more comfortable to spill that, "It was Mary's friend; you won't believe who it was."

"Who?"

Static fizzled through the speaker, bringing Roger to the edge of his seat. It was as though Freddie was making sure that no one was around to hear him whisper, "Chrissie, Roger, it was Chrissie, and Mary told her everything—everything."