Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 52

The pair managed to find their way out of the terminal, Freddie guiding them to the car parked right outside. Mary sat in the driver's seat, thumbing through a magazine to pass the time. She jumped with a start when Roger rattled his knuckles against the frosted window to her right, Freddie's fiancé glaring at him as he motioned for her to roll down the partition. Despite the sour look on her face, she turned the hand crank and allowed the frigid, evening air to invade the warm vehicle so they could talk.

"Hi, Mary," Roger greeted, resting his arm atop the car and tilting his head at an uncomfortable angle to peer inside at the driver.

"Don't think I'm doing this because I've suddenly had a change of heart about you," she bit, snapping the publication in her hands. "Because I haven't."

The blonde chuckled. "I'd be worried if you did."

"Alright, enough bickering, you two," Freddie interjected from the other side of the vehicle, leaning against the front passenger door. "It's late and we're missing Coronation Street."

"Yeah, Roger, we're missing Coronation Street," Mary sneered, the corners of her mouth turning upward into a snide grin as she set the magazine down beside her and wrapped her hands around the steering wheel.

The blonde glanced over the top of the car at his friend, the two of them rolling their eyes before slipping into the vehicle and slamming the doors behind them. They hadn't even strapped the seat belts over their chests when Mary pulled away from the curb, speeding off into the night. The entire ride home was tense, Freddie frequently glancing back at Roger as though he wanted to say something but never followed through. It wasn't until they'd arrived at the house and the three separated—Mary escaping upstairs and Roger and Freddie slinking into the living room—that he finally spoke up.

"I tried everything, Roger," the dark-haired man blurted out after sitting down in the armchair, the blonde exhaustedly dropping his bag onto the couch and plopping down beside it. "But your boy wouldn't budge."

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

Instead of answering Roger's question, Freddie sat forward—resting his elbows atop his thighs and clasping his hands out in front of him—and wondered, "Why didn't you tell him you were coming back?" He didn't even need to say his name to drain all the color from the blonde's face. "I just don't get it. Don't you—" His voice trailed off as Roger shot up from the couch and rushed over to the television, switching it on and messing with the dials to find the channel Coronation Street was playing on. Freddie sighed and sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling, "It's not on anymore, Roger. We missed it."

The blonde pounded a fist into the top of the set and stood back up, throwing a bashful look in his friend's direction and admitting, "I want to see him, Freddie. I do. I just...I want to see him when I'm ready, and I'm almost there, I just—"

"Here you go, blondie," Mary's voice cut into the private confession, Roger flinching when a sleeping bag ricocheted off his arm and fell to the floor. "It's for mountain climbing, so I don't want to hear any complaints about you being cold when you're out sleeping in the yard."

Freddie scoffed. "He's not sleeping in the yard, Mary."

"Well he's certainly not sleeping anywhere in here," she snapped, glaring at the blonde before storming back upstairs. Roger heaved a frustrated sigh and snatched the sleeping bag up off the ground, holding it close to his chest and returning his attention to his friend.

"You don't have to sleep in the yard, Rog," Freddie reassured him in a whisper.

"Oh, yes he does!" his fiancé shouted from the second floor, startling both men.

"Jesus fucking Christ," the blonde muttered under his breath, adjusting his hold on the thinly insulated bag and tipping his head back to look up at the ceiling.

Freddie shook his head and rose up out of the armchair, shortening the distance between him and Roger and grabbing the blonde's upper arms in demand of his attention. "Look, Roger, Brian needs you just as much as you need him. Trust me. He'll be at the school tomorrow; you should go see him. Say hi, see what happens." A sly smile crawled onto his face—his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth.

"Fred..."

"Trust me!" he cried, giving his friend a slight shake. "He told me himself that he wants to see you, and you just said that you want to see him too. So, come on. This is your chance. What have you got to lose?"