Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 72

"About time you showed up," Roger grumbled as Freddie dragged himself into the stall the two of them again shared, looking more defeated than the blonde did on his walks of shame following his appointments with his clients. "I've been waiting hours for you. Where on earth have you been?"

"In hell," the dark-haired man bit back, throwing his jacket down on the counter and joining his friend's side. He leaned over the countertop and buried his face in his folded arms, similar to how Brian had not too long ago. "Mary dragged me round all day to all these different little shops, forcing me to pick out flowers and centerpieces and cakes and bridesmaids' dresses and everything in between for our stupid wedding, complaining we were running out of time. We've got all the time in the damn world!"

The blonde smirked at his friend's dilemma, knowing that the simple solution would be to call off the engagement and admit to her that he wasn't attracted to her anymore. Roger offered on countless occasions to say it for him, but Freddie would always shake his head and tell him it just wasn't the right time. There would never be a right time, though, because despite him finding it more and more difficult to reciprocate the love that Mary felt for him, she was still the love of his life, and the thought of losing her forever seemed more unbearable than keeping her around whilst living a lie. After all, things weren't that bad, and it wasn't like their relationship inhibited him from exploring and enjoying his true sexuality.

"I swear, if I have to taste another fucking piece of cake, I'm going to lose my goddamn mind," he groaned, straightening his posture and letting out a sigh. "I just don't understand why she's so eager to get married. It's not like it's going to change anything. It's just going to make things more complicated."

Roger chuckled. "Why do you think I said no when Tim asked me to marry him?"

"Because he's a terrible person and we all know you deserve someone better," Freddie answered, the seriousness in his tone instantly wiping the grin from the blonde's face. "What? You know I'm right."

"Well, at least my relationship's real and not pretend like yours," he shot back childishly, the dark-haired man's eyes widening with rage.

"You take that back," Freddie growled, clenching his hands into fists by his sides. Roger shook his head in defiance, prompting the dark-haired man to throw his hands on his hips and stomp his foot. "Roger Meddows Taylor, I demand you take that back right now!" he shouted as quietly as he could manage, which wasn't very quiet at all.

"What? You know I'm right," Roger repeated slyly with a growing smile, slipping out from behind the counter and snagging his friend's jacket along the way. He spun around and—too busy sticking his arms through the sleeves and tugging at the garment to shrug it over his shoulders—hadn't noticed the last-minute customer who appeared in the entrance. Instead, Roger noticed the new expression that washed over his friend's face. His eyes remained twice the size they should have been, but instead of being reddened by anger, his face had grown pale—as though he'd seen a ghost. For all the blonde knew, he had.

"What are you—" Roger began to ask, the rest of his question laid to waste as he turned around and saw the sight for himself.

The blonde felt his chest drop into his stomach, and if he'd been carrying his guitar, it would've dropped to the floor and broke in half. Luckily, he was empty handed, and the guitar he'd borrowed from Sting was safe another day. He, on the other hand, wasn't.

"How did I know you'd be here?" the unexpected visitor sneered, entering the stall with a slow prowl, hands clasped behind their back and chest puffed out.

"T-Tim," Roger stammered nervously, the distance between him and boyfriend shrinking. "W-What a surprise to see you. When did you—"

"Get here?" the brunette cut him short, an evil laugh emanating from the back of his throat. "This morning. 'Bought myself a plane ticket right after I hung up on you—you know, after you told me you were sorry and that you messed up." He brought his hand up and tucked a piece of Roger's hair behind his ear, the blonde flinching at the gesture. "You should've listened to me, Roger. I don't know how many times I have to tell you—"

"Oh no," Freddie interjected, robbing the blonde the chance to respond and stealing the brunette's attention away from him as he strutted out from behind the counter. "No, no, no, no, no. No, you are not going to come into my...our store and pull your usual shit, Tim." He draped an arm around his friend and pulled him into his side, the color draining from Roger's face and filling Freddie's. "I won't have it."

"Don't you have some guy to suck off, Fred?" the brunette grumbled, ripping the sunglasses off his face and tucking them inside his coat pocket. The dark-haired man gasped indignantly, his free hand flying to his chest and his lips parting in preparation to defend himself—only Roger stopped him, raising his hand and holding it up to Freddie's chest.

"Don't," the blonde warned under his breath, looking over to meet his friend's fiery gaze. "You promised." He could tell Freddie had had enough of Tim, as had he, but only the latter was willing to continue putting up with it. If Freddie had his way, Tim would've been out of the picture a long time ago. He hadn't liked the man from the start, seeing instantly what Roger couldn't.

Freddie had spent many sleepless nights wondering why Roger was so blind to the way Tim treated him, but as time went on and Roger and Freddie grew closer, the dark-haired man realized that Roger was acutely aware of his situation; that he chose to ignore the red flags that anyone and everyone could see from miles away. When he asked the blonde why, Roger started by saying, "because I love him," but after being stared down by a narrow set of unconvinced eyes, he changed his answer to, "I need him," which eventually evolved into a frustrated, "you just don't get it" and "you have to promise me you won't do anything." Freddie regretted making that promise, witnessing firsthand how worse the blonde's situation became after they shook on it.

"But—" he tried to argue, the words that wanted to follow swallowed by the silence that the admonitory shake of Roger's head elicited. Freddie clenched his jaw and shoved his index finger in the blonde's face, growling, "Fine, I'll go, but if he's still here when I get back—" he redirected his finger in the direction of the brunette whose brow had arched in contempt but kept his eyes on the blonde, "—you're both going to be in big trouble."

"Ooh, I'm so scared," Tim sneered, comically waving his hands.

"You should be," the dark-haired man snapped, his head whipping around to meet the brunette's narrowed gaze. Tim folded his arms over his chest, unthreatened as Freddie broke away from Roger's side and brushed shoulders with him, the harsh blow intentional—as revealed by the glance that Freddie sent back before walking out of the stall.