Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 74

The rest of the day dragged painfully for both the professor and the former music instructor. Their minds and bodies were restless, pacing back and forth and mulling over different concerns that affected the same thing.

Roger couldn't say that he wasn't worried anymore. He hadn't realized it before, blinded by the prospects that lured him back home, but the distance he created between him and his boyfriend was more unnerving than he'd originally thought. He didn't know where Tim was, who he was with, or what he was doing, and that's what he feared most of all. The brunette was unpredictably predictable, which meant that Roger always had an inclination as to whatever Tim intended to do—make cash fast, move far away, win him back—but it was his execution that always threw Roger for a loop. The blonde could only imagine what Tim had planned this time, and each idea he came up with was worse than the last.

As for Brian, he spent what little time he had before Chrissie returned home with Liz chipping away at the song he'd been working on. It was the only way he could process the thoughts racing through his mind, sorting them out on paper and hoping the words would somehow arrange themselves into the answer he desperately needed. He had a feeling that his chance with Roger was fleeting, and that he only had a short amount of time to prove to him that he wouldn't regret his decision; that choosing him would be the right choice, now and always. He just didn't know how.

When the professor's wife walked in through the front door much later than normal, her daughter sitting on her hip, she found her husband on the living room floor, his back against their couch as he strummed at his guitar and tested out different chord patterns. It was clear to her that he'd burned himself out, with each combination of chords worse than the last, but Brian was determined to finish this song if it was the last thing he did. He was so deep in his own headspace that Chrissie's presence only became known to him when she shut—more so slammed—the door behind her.

"Oh, h-hey," he stammered, setting his guitar aside and picking himself up off the ground. As he wiped the back of his pants instinctively, he added with rosy cheeks, "I didn't hear you come in."

"I know," she replied, her voice flat. An awkward pause filled the conversation, the two adults not knowing what to say to one another. It was strange, their inability to converse with one another like they used to. Before, when they first started getting to know one another, the topics of conversation were endless. They couldn't wait till their breaks in the day to see each other again and pick up right where they left off. Now they dreaded those breaks, and today had been their longest one yet with the professor avoiding the university at all costs.

It seemed as though the both of them were prepared to walk away from the situation with that small, impersonal, dissatisfying exchange when the headmistress blurted out, "You left your notebook out last night."

He scratched the back of his head. "Did I?"

"Yeah," she lied, using his lapse in memory to her advantage to keep him from finding out the truth—that he'd actually fallen asleep on it, and she'd pulled it out from underneath him. She bit her lip and tacked on hesitantly, "I saw what you wrote."

"You—" Brian began, his voice cracking to a higher, embarrassing pitch. His eyes widened but for a short second before he blinked them back to their normal size, cleared his throat, and tried again to speak. "You did?" he asked, his voice dropped lower than normal.

Chrissie nodded her head, adjusting her grip on Liz.

The professor swallowed the uncomfortable lump that formed in his throat, hoping that Chrissie would hold onto Liz forever. He knew the baby girl was the only thing protecting him from her mother's wrath. There was no wrath to be had, though, for Chrissie was no longer angry. It wouldn't be fair for her to be angry, especially after the afternoon she had.

The headmistress and the newest addition to the staff at Imperial College soaked in the silence that blanketed over the abandoned corridor after John and the girls walked out. Chrissie felt the judgmental daggers Sting shot out of the corner of his eyes, but she chose to ignore them, clearing her throat and announcing that she should be on her way; that she had to pick up her daughter from her mother-in-law.

"Let me walk you out," the blonde replied, whipping out a pack of cigarettes from the leather messenger bag that hung by his hip and pinching one of the white sticks in the corner of his lips. He swapped the pack for a lighter and brought the flame up to the cigarette, igniting the end and breathing in deeply. The headmistress didn't even seem to care, her own matters taking preference over her colleague's blatant disregard of policy. Not to mention that any reprimands she would give would come off as hypocritical, with Chrissie having violated the rules just the other day.

Sting blew a steady, smoky stream out to the side and explained, "My ride should be here any moment."

"Okay, fine," she muttered, running an anxious hand through her hair. "I just need to stop back at my office and get my things."

"I'll be here," he told her with an alluring air of nonchalance, taking another drag from the cigarette.

It didn't take long for the headmistress to run up to her office and back, but when she returned, she was surprised to find that the interim professor's ride had joined him. She was even more surprised that she knew his ride personally.