Chrissie scoffed and folded her arms over her chest. "So, you're in love with him now."
The professor's face drained of all color—all color except for the red in his cheeks. "No, Chrissie, that's not what I—" he tried to explain, but the headmistress had no desire to hear him out. She turned on her heel and stormed off to the car, leaving him no choice but to drag his feet behind her in silence and think about what he'd said. The issue was, he wasn't thinking when he spoke. The words just came out, slipping past his lips like prisoners with an agenda—their escape unbeknownst to the wardens, but a long, calculated time in the making.
Brian had had a year to process his feelings, and even though he hadn't fully realized it, he'd decided that yes, he was in love with Roger. He couldn't deny it anymore. The blonde was the one he wanted to wake up to every morning, the one he wanted to come home to after a hard day's work, and the one he wanted to join in bed at the end of the day. The only thing stopping him before was the obligation he felt he had to Chrissie, but after everything that had happened, he began to wonder if he'd made the right choice. Even the headmistress had started to display similar doubts, saying it best when she asked, "How is the right thing when we're both so fucking miserable?"
He claimed not to be, but had he been miserable this whole time and, like his feelings for Roger, just didn't realize it? Were his career, his marriage, and his daughter but mere distractions, preventing him from pursuing what he really wanted? These thoughts plagued the professor's mind the entire ride home—from the university to his mother's house, and from his mother's house to his house—and as soon as he pulled into the driveway, he ran inside, sat himself down at the kitchen table, ripped his notebook out from his bag, and began to scribble down the words he'd been struggling to find that suddenly became clear to him.
Chrissie didn't even dare to bother Brian in his manic state, crossing the threshold with Liz in her arms and taking her straight upstairs, where she intended to stay the rest of the night but couldn't—their daughter requiring a bottle before bed. With much reluctance, the headmistress ventured downstairs and into the kitchen, where she stumbled upon her husband, fast asleep. Had she not still been mad at him, the sight would've tugged at her heart, but all she felt was disgust and antipathy.
Pushing past her conflicted feelings, Chrissie walked over to the fridge and grabbed one of the bottles they had prepared from the freezer, taking it over to the sink and running it under a steady stream of warm water. As she waited for the milk to defrost, her gaze wandered over to the table, where tucked beneath Brian's folded arms was his notebook. A string of words piqued the headmistress's curiosity and, after much internal debate, drew her over.
She placed the thawed bottle down on the table and delicately pulled the notebook out from underneath him, turning it around and reading:
You never heard my song before, the music was too loud
But now I think you hear me well, for now we both know how
No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear
But some day, one day
Funny how the pages turn and hold us in between
A misty castle waits for you and you shall be a queen
Today the cloud, it hangs over us and all is gray
But some day, one day
"Hey," a groggy voice startled the headmistress, the notebook dropping to the ground and her hands flying up in a show of innocence. Brian didn't seem to notice, though, as he stretched his arms and back—the latter cracking. He hissed at the burst of pain but soon relaxed and asked while rubbing his eyes, "What time is it?"
"A-A little after eleven," Chrissie stammered, resting her shaky hands on her hips and shifting her gaze to her feet out of embarrassment.
"Really? That late?" He stood up and scratched his head. "Why didn't you come and get me?"
The headmistress shrugged her shoulders, biting her lip and watching out of the corner of her eye as her husband turned away from her and dragged himself out of the room, trudging up the stairs without saying another word—not even "goodnight." Chrissie waited for the soft click of their bedroom door to bend down and snatch the notebook up from where it landed, taking a seat at the table herself and reading the lyrics once over, wanting to know what they meant.
A tear trickled down her cheek and splashed onto the paper as she figured it out, leaving an incriminating mark for Brian to find when he revisited his work. He wouldn't get the chance to confront her, though, because a more pressing matter would present itself in the form of a phone call that caused the headmistress to jump for the second time that evening.
Worried it would upset Liz more than her neglected bottle, Chrissie scrambled out of the chair and picked the phone up off the receiver, holding it up to her ear and whispering, "Hello?"
"Chrissie," a voice she hadn't heard in years sounded through the speaker, sending chills down her spine. "Hey."
"Stewart," she gasped.
YOU ARE READING
Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)
Fanfiction==COMPLETED== "Together took us nearly there, the rest may not be sung." A year has passed since Roger first burst into Brian's classroom, asking for directions. Now he's but a distant memory, his presence forgotten by all but one-the professor whos...
