Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 63

Brian experienced a sense of déjà vu as the rest of his day unfolded, his mind once again fixated on the blonde. All he could think about was finishing what he and Roger had started, and how dangerous of a game he'd be playing if it became something more. The ring wrapped around his finger reminded him that he was a married man; the picture in his desk drawer of him, his wife, and their newborn baby girl reminded him that he had a daughter to raise; and the side-eyed glances from his peers reminded him that he was subject to their judgment—already on thin ice for not only having an affair with a colleague, but knocking her up too.

He couldn't imagine what would happen if they discovered he'd been messing around with Roger, the former music instructor who came into their lives as quickly as he left it. He doubted they would fire him over it but worried they might because he was the youngest and most inexperienced faculty member, therefore making him the most expendable. Affairs aside, part of him—and part of many others too—believed that the only reason he hadn't been fired yet was because of his relationship with Chrissie. If that was to be threatened, he feared he wouldn't lose only his position, but everything...everything.

Sitting with these thoughts all day, it was only natural that Brian's classes went by in a blur and the stack of graded exams hadn't changed much from that morning. He hadn't even noticed it was after five until John stuck his head into the lecture hall to wish his professor a goodnight, saying he'd see him tomorrow for his music lesson. With reddened cheeks, Brian gathered his belongings and locked up the room.

He made his way up to the headmistress's office, knocking on her opened door and peering in to see that she wasn't alone—Sting sitting on the edge of her desk, facing her. The smiles that were stretched across both their faces vanished as they looked back at Brian, Chrissie uncomfortably clearing her throat to say, "Hey, Brian. Ready to go?"

"Yeah, it's after five," the professor answered, pointing to the clock on the wall behind the headmistress's desk.

"Oh, wow, really?" Ray's replacement asked, pushing his sleeve back to look at his watch. "Last time I checked it was only three. I've got to get going." He hopped down from her desk and made his way over to the door whose threshold Brian was leaned against—arms crossed over his chest and lips tugged ever so slightly downward into a frown. "I've got this audition tonight for my band," Sting explained, eyeing the professor from head to toe and back again before suggesting with a smirk, "Maybe if it doesn't go well, you could audition for us. I've been dying to know how your song for Roger goes."

Brian's cheeks burned with embarrassment as the substitute punched him playfully in the arm and bid the two farewell, his footsteps echoing down the hallway and breaking up the silence that consumed the office following his departure. Taking in a deep breath, Chrissie stood up from her desk and began to sort through her things with a passive aggression that Brian couldn't ignore.

"You know, that...that's not really what it's called," he muttered in a vain attempt to subdue her rising assumptions.

"I don't care what it's called, Brian," the headmistress grumbled, slinging her bag over her shoulder and meeting her husband's gaze—a mix of disappointment and exasperation glistening in her eyes. "You told me you wanted to give us a second try."

The professor scoffed. "And I still do!"

"Then stop writing songs about him," Chrissie snapped, snatching her coat up from the back of her chair. "And stop telling stories about him to Liz." She crossed the room and looked Brian dead in the eyes, explaining under her breath, "The walls at your house are thin, and you're not as quiet as you think you are." The professor watched with wide eyes as she brushed past him and disappeared in the direction Sting had left, stunned by her inadvertent confession. His heart was heavy as he listened to the fading click of her high heels, cut short when she reached the end of the hallway and called out to him, "Come on, Bri, let's go. Your mum's waiting for us."

"R-Right," he stuttered, peeling away from the threshold and trudging down the hallway to meet her. When he joined the headmistress's side, there was an undeniable coldness that formed and lingered as they made the trek out to the car park together.

"'Night, Professor," Dominique purred as the couple passed by the student who normally was surrounded by her group of friends, but this time was all alone—perched atop a windowsill with a cigarette pinched between her fingers and her mini-skirt folded back to expose a sliver of her lacy knickers. She brought the white stick up to her lips and smirked at the attention she received, taking a rebellious drag and blowing out a steady stream of smoke as she turned her head to look out the window.

"Goodnight, Dominique," Brian replied with a clenched jaw, wrapping his hand around Chrissie's and pulling her towards the exit, only to be met with an unexpected resistance—the headmistress's feet planted firmly on the ground. "What are you—" he began to whisper when he was interrupted.

"Do you have an extra smoke to spare, Miss Beyrand?" Chrissie asked fervently, attracting the student's suspicious gaze and arching the professor's brow.

"Are you serious?" the French girl chuckled, believing this was some trick the headmistress was trying to pull in order to get her in trouble. This was no trick, though, which Chrissie proved by nodding her head in affirmation and breaking away from her husband to accept the girl's reluctant offer. Dominique held up her lighter to the white stick that trembled in the headmistress's hand, igniting the one end and watching as her superior breathed in, coughing only a bit before begrudgingly thanking the girl and heading for the doors.

Brian's bewildered gaze flickered between his wife and the student who shrugged her shoulders and took another casual drag. The professor heaved a sigh and ran out after the headmistress who was already halfway across the parking lot, a cloud of smoke billowing into the air around her.

"Chrissie!" he yelled, his wife ignoring him as she continued her way to their car—a handful of snowflakes drifting through the air. "Chrissie!"

"I don't want to talk about it, Brian!" she shouted, spinning around and freezing the professor in his tracks. "Just let me deal with this the way I want to deal with it, alright?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat and tightened his hands into fists. "Fine, deal with it the way you want to, but for everyone's sake, would you stop acting like you're the victim here? Because you're not; you're in love with someone else too."