Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 80

The professor's car pulled up to the only place he knew the blonde to be at—that is, after checking the stall and seeing that there'd been a sign set out on the counter which misleadingly read Be Back Soon. He yanked the keys out of the ignition and jumped out of the car, storming up the walkway and pounding relentlessly on the poor door. His knocks were so consistent and so loud that he neglected to hear the "I'm coming! I'm coming!" from inside the house. It was only when the door was drawn in that Brian dropped his hand to his side and regained some of the composure he'd lost on his drive there.

"I'm glad to see you've changed your mind," Freddie sneered, folding his arms over his chest and smirking at the faint, short-lived blush that rose in the taller man's cheeks.

Brian sighed. "I just need to talk to him, Fred. Is he here?"

"Wouldn't you like that," the dark-haired man sniggered, keeping up the antics that the professor had no patience for.

"Look, I really don't have time for your games, Freddie. Is Roger here or not?"

"No," the homeowner finally divulged, pouting and sharing, "I actually haven't seen him since yesterday. The bastard was out of the house before either Mary or I got up."

"Well, can I come in then? Wait until he shows up?" the antsy professor begged, his beating heart and racing mind refusing to let him walk away without the answers he needed. "It's kind of important, what we have to talk about."

"Be my guest." The dark-haired man stepped to the side and ushered the professor in, watching with intrigue as he brushed past him. The first thing Brian noticed were all the magazines scattered about—some closed, some open to certain pages, some with pages torn out. Accompanying the catalogues were several samples of flowers, fabric swatches, table decorations, and more.

"There's cake in the fridge, if you're hungry," Freddie commented, joining Brian's side and sighing. "We have every flavor you could ever imagine. Don't believe me? Take a look for yourself."

"I-I'm good, thanks," the professor politely declined, forcing a grin on his face and shoving his hands into his pockets. He wandered into the living room and caught a glimpse of some of the centerfolds, noticing the suits that Freddie had circled. None were traditional, and some even had notes scribbled next to them of things the dark-haired man wanted to add to them. The clutter instilled a sense of relief in the professor, making him grateful that things didn't work out between him and Mary. He didn't know what he'd do if Chrissie were this enthusiastic about their wedding. Granted, they were crunched for time and didn't have the funds to afford such a lavish setting and wardrobe, but still. He'd dodged a bullet.

"You know, I've been meaning to catch up with you," Freddie blurted out, stealing Brian's attention from the catalogues and making room for them on the couch. "We haven't talked since your daughter's baptism."

"I've been busy," he muttered, earning a quick glimpse from Roger's friend.

"Oh, I know you have," the dark-haired man replied slyly, dropping the sloppily assembled stack of magazines onto the end table, where it joined a tray full of half-smoked cigarettes and a spilled bottle of dark red nail lacquer. He collapsed like a rag doll onto the end of the couch, his arms and legs draped limpidly over the sides, and met the professor's embarrassed gaze. "But if you want to keep busy..." He whipped out a pack of cigarettes and extracted two white sticks, pinching one in the corner of his mouth and extending the other one out to his guest.

The professor stared at the offering with a sense of apprehension, Roger's phantom voice ringing in his ears, I don't think smoking's going to solve your problem, Bri...but it'll calm your nerves. The words belonged to two different times, coming from two different Rogers, but they shared the same power, encouraging Brian to snatch the cigarette from Freddie and take the seat beside him. The unused corner of the dark-haired man's lips curled up into a small grin as he exchanged the soft pack for a lighter, touching the flame to the end of both the sticks. The two breathed in, and Brian resisted the dire urge to cough—refusing to let on to his immediate regret.

Freddie saw right through him, though, his small grin stretching as he sunk back into the couch and exhaled a steady stream of smoke towards the ceiling, finishing his nearly forgotten sentence, "...you need to do something big, and fast."

Brian shook his head, knowing where this conversation was going before it even really took off. It was the same conversation they had last time, and though a lot had happened since then, the outcome was going to be the same. "Freddie, I don't want to get into this with you again."

"Well, I just thought because Tim's back—"

The professor's eyes widened for the second time that day. "Tim's back?"

"Oh yeah, and I don't know what he's up to, but I doubt it's any good." Freddie took another drag from his cigarette and let the smoke out in little ringlets that floated up in the air, disappearing before they could travel far. He dropped his head to the side and asked, "You wouldn't let Roger take him back, would you?"

That unfortunately familiar warmth spread from Brian's cheeks to his neck and to his chest, the answer dancing on the tip of his tongue but refusing to come out. He brought the white stick in his fingers to his lips once more, hoping the nicotine would do what Roger said it would and allow him to relax like he did with alcohol.

It did not.

Freddie sat forward and turned towards Brian, looking him dead in the eye with brows furrowed in disbelief. "You seriously wouldn't stop Roger from going back to Tim?"

The professor could only shrug, the words he desperately wanted to say—Of course, I would. What do you think I am, crazy?—still reluctant to manifest themselves.

"You can't let him go back to him, Brian," the dark-haired man stressed with a seriousness that wouldn't have seemed so intense had Brian had a beer in his hands instead of a lousy cigarette. "You can't, and I know you know why." He placed his hand on Brian's thigh and gave it a slight squeeze that made the professor tense up. "He needs you, Bri, now more than ever."

It was a lot of pressure that Brian was under, with all these people needing him. Chrissie needed him in order to keep up appearances, and now Roger needed him to move past the abusive relationship that had been holding him back for years. The professor was only one person, and he wasn't a miracle worker. He had no idea how he'd accomplish both. It seemed to him that it was one or the other, and he wasn't ready to make that decision—no matter how obvious it might be to someone else, because as much as he cared about the headmistress and the former music instructor, they'd both hurt him in different ways. Chrissie had lied to him, and Roger had abandoned him. They manipulated Brian for their own benefit, finding in him an escape from their unsatisfying relationships. He was always second best, yet everything fell on his shoulders.

A sharp jab in the shoulder drew Brian out of the stupor he'd slipped into, averting his attention to the dark-haired man seated across from him. "You need to tell him how you feel," Freddie insisted, "before it's too late."

The professor shifted uncomfortably and, with a tight throat, muttered, "You said there was cake in the fridge?"