#I love how calling me a faggot is the worst this guy can do

[bengiyo]

The Knowing: Being Queer in BL

I’ve been talking about The Knowing a lot lately with @lurkingshan @waitmyturtles @ginnymoonbeam and @shortpplfedup and so I felt it was time to gather all those thoughts into one place.

I define The Knowing as “growing up and suffering with the knowledge that you are queer (specifically that you are not like other kids) and understanding that you must keep that knowledge to yourself.”

Part of what initially drew me to BL was how often many of these shows took place in what @absolutebl calls “The Bubble” where cultural and structural homophobia is less prevalent or nonexistent. Many of these stories are about guys learning something about themselves for the first time when it comes to being attracted to other men. However, I always find myself drawn to the characters that clearly Knew who they were a long time ago. What’s interesting about these characters is that many of them carry an intense sadness and loneliness that plagues them and their relationships.

I am in my mid-30s. I’ve had to unlearn a lot of language over the decades. When I first realized I was different from other kids I was eight years old. I was a lot like Chiron in Moonlight (2016) asking the question, “What’s a faggot?” I wish I’d had someone like Juan around to say, “A faggot is a word used to make gay people feel bad.” To which Chiron asked, “Am I a faggot?” and Juan quickly corrected. “Nah. You can be gay, but you ain’t gotta let nobody call you no faggot.” I know it’s hard for some of you to read slurs written out so plainly, but I grew up with them being part of the day-to-day language used by kids around me. If you instinctively recoiled at me typing the word four times, imagine experiencing that constantly for your entire adolescence while also fearing the consequences of being discovered by your peers. That’s what I survived. That’s what some of these boys survived.

Before I learned other words, I thought I was weird or broken. I knew I was drawn to boys before I even hit puberty, but I didn’t have language for existing on the ace-spectrum until I joined Tumblr in the early 2010s. Before that I just thought there was something wrong with me. When we see a character in BL who has clearly been gay for a long time, I find myself examining the environment around them to see if they suffered The Knowing.

The worst part of The Knowing is for the boys who can pass as straight if they try hard enough. I always talk about how I think femmes are stronger than those of us (like me) who can pass. They face the public scrutiny of being queer and the danger of that constantly. People like me often go unnoticed unless we’re amongst our peers or explicitly tell people who we are.

I’m writing this post as a love letter to the boys who suffered the Knowing. Sometimes these characters get a bad reputation in fandom for being boring or sad sacks, but they are the characters I love the most. I’d like to talk about some of my favorite boys who Knew. Unsurprisingly, the exact kind of melancholy Japan is willing to play with means they have strong presence on this list.

Korn (Until We Meet Again)

Korn is the character who began my discussion about this in a conversation with @wen-kexing-apologist about Kao’s acting. I pointed out that the saddest thing about Korn in Until We Meet Again is that he knew what he was going to do the entire time. The tragedy of UWMA is that Korn loved Intouch and let him in, and unfortunately learned that Intouch’s love couldn’t fix the horrors that plagued him. You can see it in Kao’s eyes for the entire show whenever we see the In and Korn flashbacks. He suffers under the weight of masculine expectation and crumbles.

The Entire Cast of What Did You Eat Yesterday?

WDYEY is all about characters who Knew. Kenji and Wataru may have been unable to pass and have chosen to accept who they are, but we know Wataru suffered for it because of his feelings about family. Shiro hid who he was for a very long time, and still hides it from most people. His trauma from The Knowing regularly threatens his relationship with Kenji. Kohinata also clearly knew who he was the entire time, and works diligently for the life he’s built for himself. So much of this show is about being gay in a world that does not value us.

Book, Christina, and Yok (Make It Right)

Book is actively victimized because of The Knowing. He left his previous school and doesn’t live with his family because he was outed by a past boyfriend, and is disowned after revenge porn of him is posted.

Both Chrstina and Yok are femme and cannot pass. Unlike many of the boys in this show figuring out who they are, they are trying to survive without losing themselves.

Li Ming (Moonlight Chicken)

Li Ming has a gay uncle and still suffers The Knowing. He is hiding his attraction from everyone until he develops feelings for Heart.

Itou Akira (Life: Love on the Line)

We experienced the entire arc of this man’s life and how much The Knowing crushed him. This is probably the most The Knowing character on the list.

Oumi Mitsuru (Eternal Yesterday)

Oumi has such a frank expression of The Knowing and how much it hurts that he likes Koichi but feels like he can’t express it.

Takahashi Satoru (Koisenu Futari)

The man literally blogs about The Knowing, and it’s how Sakuko began to understand herself. He has a questionnaire prepared to help you figure out how long you’ve Known.

Ren (Tokyo in April Is…)

I wrote multiple posts about Ren and his experience with The Knowing. So much of what goes wrong for them is because Ren couldn’t believe that Kazuma could like him, too, and he knowingly faced the consequences of being discovered to save Kazuma’s life.

Pete (Love by Chance)

Pete knows who he is and can’t change it. Trump uses this against him. Pete doesn’t want Ae to be gay like him and suffer with the realities of being a Known Gay. Pete has one of the first coming out scenes in BL that I really enjoyed.

Cairo (Gameboys)

Cairo was clearly struggling with Knowing, and his close friend took his coming out from him. Cairo is a brat, but goddamn do I appreciate some of his angst.

See-eiw (My Only 12%)

He watched The Love of Siam (2007) and had a complete emotional breakdown as he was finally able to name his feelings for Cake. Top-tier expression of The Knowing.

Shin (3 Will Be Free)

I mean, we don’t have to look much further than his entire sad existence and being pushed into sex with a prostitute in the first episode. Also there’s, “It wasn’t that you didn’t like boys. You just didn’t like me.” Shin is the only boy in BL-adjacent media to suffer a specific version of The Knowing: being rejected and discarded by your own people in a homophobic way so they could stay closeted.

Phupha (A Tale of Thousand Stars)

Phupha’s entire romantic angst is built around The Knowing and what others seeing him for who he is will do for him.

Pran (Bad Buddy)

Though Bad Buddy exists in The Bubble, Pran has one of the most painful versions of The Knowing I’ve ever experienced because his is wrapped up in family angst and an unrequited crush.

Lee Wan (Our Dating Sim)

Lee Wan suffered The Knowing and broke things with his best friend after confessing. The Knowing destroyed his ability to see a version of his life where he and Shin Kitae overcame the upcoming challenges together and so he takes that choice from Kitae. Crushing.

Ueda Minoru (Our Dining Table)

Minoru is so familiar with The Knowing that he preemptively breaks up with Yutaka after kissing him.

Kiyoi (My Beautiful Man)

The reveal that Kiyoi already knew who he was and noticed Hira the entire time? Beautiful. One of the best reveals in J-BL history.

Minato (Minato’s Laundromat)

This man is one of the sadder examples of The Knowing because he’s in a place where he understands who he is now, but the internalized homophobia cripples almost all of his romantic and closer relationships.

Han Baram (Sing My Crush)

This boy is suffering so much from The Knowing that his love confession song is literally titled “Letter of Apology.”

Oh-aew (I Told Sunset About You)

He Knew. “Are you proud of me?”

Noh Shinwoo and Shin Daon (Light On Me)

Noh Shinwoo clearly suffered The Knowing and was discovered. His bullies still plague him on the streets when they see him. Shin Daon was not surprised by his attraction to Woo Taekyung; he struggled with his parents expectations.

Nagisa (His: I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love)

Nagisa definitely Knew who he was and was probably going to stay quiet about it until Shun showed up in his life. What upsets me so much about Nagisa is that he is the one who leaves Shun later in the movie after pulling queerness out of Shun.

The Secret Crush on You Quartet

All four of them get a spot on this list for The Knowing. Toh, Kaojao, and Daisy clearly suffered The Knowing, and Som has clearly taken care of them for a long time.

Rocky and Judah (Quaranthings)

I love that these two explore The Knowing from a class perspective. Judah is wealthier and eventually comes out, but Rocky is poor and struggles with it a lot longer.

Han Tae Joo and Kang Gook (Where Your Eyes Linger)

The Knowing, bodyguard edition. The yearning between the two of these is palpable. It hurts that they can’t even talk to each other about it.

Mafuyu (Given)

He Knew and lost his boyfriend to The Knowing.

Kim Dong Hee (Unintentional Love Story)

He won’t acknowledge Go Ho Tae’s feelings because he feels a sense of loyalty to Ho Tae’s mom for taking care of him after his parents disowned him over the gay thing. Huge case of The Knowing.

Edit: New Additions October 7, 2023.

Nekoyashiki Mamoru (Kabe-Koji Nekoyashiki-kun Desires to be Recognized)

He describes a textbook case of the Knowing and finding community at the convention.

Zo (Hidden Agenda)

He definitely Knew, and got messed over by his friends badly for it.

Yuuki (Me, My Husband, and My Husband's Boyfriend)

We almost lost Yuuki to the Knowing.

All of the Eclipse Gays

Literally all of them. The entire show is about how fascism turns queer people into agents working against their own community.

Joe (The Warp Effect)

He clearly Knew before his encounter with Army, and he also suffered for being outed.

[hareofhrair]

While I'm yelling about House MD--

I see in the notes of my House posts sometimes people being like "ooh, maybe I should watch that" and I always kind of wince and want to grab them like, yeah, please do, but also watch out. There's a reason we call it hate crimes md, and it's not just because of the queerbaiting.

So the thing about House is... It began airing in 2004. The 2000's were, for those of you who missed them, an... interesting time for what was then still called "political correctness." And these times were heralded by a certain Type of Guy, with a certain type of Edgy Humor. In pushing back against the admittedly very white liberal language policing of the PC movement, his goal was to be as offensive as possible, to every demographic possible. For those that had thought it through enough to justify this behavior, the claim was an intent to shake things up and force people to confront their unspoken biases and have hard conversations. The catch phrase was "I'm not racist, I hate everybody equally." These were your Jeff Dunhams, your Dane Cooks...

(For my part, I think it was, at it's heart, white guys attempting to parrot the marginalized groups demanding radical acceptance? A gay person saying "yeah I'm a faggot, what's it to you?" A disabled person saying "yeah I'm crippled, fight me about it. Call me a person with special needs again and I'll break your kneecaps with my cane." They picked up on the "we'd rather be called a slur than this avoidant, self righteous, language policing bullshit" and came away with "so I should call everyone slurs, got it.")

Enter House MD.

The tagline of the show is "Everybody Lies," and it's a very consistent theme throughout. The thesis of the show is that our society, with its shame and repression and bias, is incapable of real honesty. And approaching problems with soft, non confrontational language that talks around the issue instead of dealing with it only makes this worse.

So naturally, House is one of Those Guys.

I doubt there is a single episode in which he does not at some point, say a slur. When Foreman (the only black character and, until Kutner and Park, the only non white major character) is in the same scene with House, you can be absolutely certain he is going to say something racist, while staring at Foreman with a shit eating grin, daring him to make a fuss about it so he can monologue about how Affirmative Action is actually condescending to black people.

It would be one thing if this were strictly a character choice, something that was specifically wrong with House the person. Unfortunately, even when House is not involved the show itself is still, just, blindingly racist, all the time. Any time the patient isn't white, it's a horror show. Racist caricatures as far as the eye can see. It's also intermittently sexist, intersexist, nauseatingly fatphobic, and while it generally does better with disability than most any other show of the time, it is still shockingly ableist at times given the main character is, himself, physically disabled, and implied to be autistic as well.

What makes it worse is that they set House up as someone who wants to deflate people's egos and make them confront their biases ect, and then almost never puts him in a position where he's punching up. There's even a specific episode where he's treating a conservative campaign manager who released an insanely racist anti-migrant political ad, and his racism just doesn't get brought up. The ugly truth about himself he's forced to confront is that he's gay, and the man he's in love with and the people he surrounds himself with are, well. Conservatives.

All of this is not to say you shouldn't watch House or that House is a bad show. It's just very much a show from a very specific and unfortunate moment in the recent history of the ongoing battle for equality. The worst part is, its heart is in the right place, it is just doing a real bad job. It wants to be progressive. It just thinks being polite and respectful is weak and lame.

On that note! The show also features a canonically bisexual woman who actually says the word bisexual-- fucking wild for the time, where the best you generally got was vague allusions to "swinging both ways."-- And it shows her in relationships with both women and men. Including, very notably, Foreman. And if I need to tell you how revolutionary it was for them to show a romantic relationship between a black man and a white woman in the 2010's, take a minute and think about how many relationships like that you've seen in TV or movies since then. Or ever.

It centers on a nuanced and compassionate portrayal of an addict, and tackles the realities of that in an incredibly honest way I don't think I've seen anywhere else. Just the simple, consistent reminders that both House and the other addicts featured on the show are using for a reason, and it's often because they have medical needs that have been neglected by bigoted doctors. There's a whole arc where they try to restrict House's use of painkillers by reducing his prescribed dose to basically a handful of ibuprofen, claiming he only thinks he needs such a high dose because he's addicted and he'll "adjust" to a lower dose in time-- IE, get used to just living with the extreme pain. Unsurprisingly, the increased pain makes him awful to be around, worse at his job, and eventually drives him further into addiction. The way the show deals with this is honestly fantastic, especially given, again, this was the 2000's and 2010's. For a somewhat contemporary comparison, take a look at how addicts are portrayed in Breaking Bad, which came out four years after House in 2008. The general attitude towards addicts was not great.

This show has a lot going for it. The relationships and the stories it tells are honestly incredible. But it is also very flawed, and people should be aware of that going in.

If you want to start watching House, awesome! But maybe look up trigger warnings first.

(Also, completely aside from All That^ there's also the genre typical medical gore and body horror, so, you know, also be prepared for that!)

[polaraaace]

Tales of my communications professor except I’m looking back 2 or 3 semesters so it’s a jumbled list of bullet points

As you read, I want you to keep in mind this is the very first professor I had starting on my very first day of community college. I wanted to get public speaking over with so I just signed up for the course with the most available spots without even checking RateMyProfessor, which would usually be a terrible idea

The only way I can accurately describe his appearance is to say that he looked like a screenshot of a screenshot of a screenshot of weird uncle who got lost in the Alps while competing in the Tour de France and found his fellow cyclists a bit tastier than he probably should have

Sandals (with or without socks) were a wardrobe staple

I don’t think I ever saw him wear regular pants, only shorts

Went exclusively by his last name

Taught me to do my bibliography first, before writing the actual paper. Lastname, I will love you forever and ever for this and I forgive every single moment of insanity I’m about to recount

Had the worst handwriting l've ever seen—he did have dysgraphia, but he almost certainly took advantage of it to make us listen to the lectures instead of just copying what went on the board. Hey, it worked—I still use the notetaking and listening tactics I picked up in public speaking

Introduced his lesson on connotation (in both courses I took with him) by writing FAGGOT on the board and encouraging us to discuss what thoughts/emotions that prompted. Unfortunately, that didn’t work on me because I’m sorry sir but what the hell are you even supposed to think or feel in that moment

That being said, he made it explicitly clear up front wouldn’t tolerate racism, sexism, homophobia, or any prejudice in his classes and was super supportive when I chose to give a speech on asexuality while I was still a nervous baby gay

For an impromptu speech, we got 4 Wikipedia articles to print out and skim during our 3 minutes of prep time to allude to in the speech. He was telling us about how the impromptus would go next class period, and being a sarcastic little shit who had become comfortable with Lastname by that point, I joked about just memorizing and reciting the articles for my speech. As retaliation, he sent me out of the room to prepare and then return to deliver a (non-graded) impromptu speech without the articles; I later referenced the incident in my actual graded impromptu and got an A thanks to the on-the-spot practice he’d given me

Consistently forgot my age, thinking I was 16/17 (1 was 18/19 at the time; I know I have a baby face and an aura of innocence, but still)

About halfway through the semester, he asked me incredulously “you have a job?” when I mentioned my work offhandedly. Our first assignment had been to read a 1-page speech introducing ourselves, during which I’d mentioned my job by (badly and conspicuously) improvising a correction to cover the change that had taken place since I’d written it

I’m not sure how to put this well while telling the story from my own point of view but I feel like saying he liked to tell me I had “a brain the size of the planet” adds some context to our interactions

Our final public speaking assignment was a survey about how our confidence had changed over the semester graded solely on participation, but he semi-jokingly threatened to withhold our final grade if we didn’t turn it in. I was going through some stuff at the time (and looking back I was very deficient in multiple vitamins) and forgot. He let me turn it in late but called me up to stand by his desk while I completed it as he (lightheartedly) ribbed me about it in front of the whole class

All of that stuff you just read was during my very first semester of college. And I still went back for another class with the guy

My second semester of freshman year started right at the same time as the aforementioned personal issues and vitamin deficiency were worsening, so I essentially stopped more than the bare minimum of effort into anything except calculus. Interpersonal communication with Lastname was the one class I still looked forward to even when I didn’t feel like I could do more than listen and take notes, and thanks to his encouragement my motivation came back enough for me to make a pretty good push towards the end

When I said sometimes I wondered if there was something fundamentally wrong with me that kept me from connecting properly with other people, he said, “that’s just because you’re young and dumb.” In retrospect we absolutely deserved each other

Liked to play music before class and during group work. Trying to brainstorm about the various types of nonverbal communication with three other people while the dulcet tones of Funkytown blared in the background (or let’s be honest, the foreground) is permanently etched into my memory

One of my classmates had a mom who had been in his class years ago; apparently he had barely aged

Actually engaged constructively in a conversation I started about amatonormativity? And listened to what I had to say and took me seriously?? I felt like I’d won an argument that day even though we weren’t fighting

While discussing my asexuality on another occasion, he did give me the classic “you’re just young and could still just be figuring yourself out!” spiel after I had really grown to trust and look up to him, which stung

One day I had completely forgotten an online assignment due in 20 minutes and he passed me in the hall, asking “so how’d you like the homework?” in a pointed way that was clearly meant to remind me about it without directly calling me out. I said something noncommittal because I was too embarrassed to be honest and got to work on it, and actually did a decent job

Near the end of the semester, Lastname assigned a 2-week (I think? It may have been as many as 4) project only for the Canvas page to go down 12 hours before it was due. The project turned out to be a fucking icebreaker (again, we were almost almost at the end of the semester) that got graded on participation. I did get a nice script for striking up conversations with strangers out of the experience, though.

Told me to my face, personally, in front of the class of ~40 people that he would forget my name over winter break once I was out of his class

I have not seen Lastname in the two semesters since interpersonal comm ended and would be fully prepared to accept that I hallucinated the entire experience had I not met other people who have taken other classes with him

[clarrise-rose]

I Love-Hate Being A Lesbian.

I’m a lesbian. There’s no other way to say it, I’m a raging lesbian. It’s beautiful, and wonderful in so many ways. I love being a lesbian, and I have ever since I figured it out. That doesn’t mean it’s easy.

I knew I liked women long before I knew I was a lesbian. At first I thought I was bisexual, and came out to my parents as such. I was twelve at the time. They wanted me to keep it quiet. I was young, and didn’t fully know what I was talking about, and my grandparents were Catholic, what would they say? (As I grew into the identity, I found that my gran had nothing to say on the pride pins she found on my blazer as she took it to wash.) It felt disheartening, but they hadn’t demanded I stay straight, or deem me a child of the devil, so I took it as a win. I suppose they took me still liking boys as a win, too. They’d told me the world was dangerous for people like me, so knowing I was still straight-passing must’ve been a small reprieve.

The first time I came out, it was with a terrible joke. I thought long and hard about it, and spent far too long deliberating and hoping it’d go well, and trying to prepare for the worst. The second time, I texted my mum that I was a lesbian. I was signing up to do volunteer work, and they asked me my sexuality. I wanted to avoid any confusion, if my mum thought I was bisexual and my work thought I was a lesbian. It felt so easy then. Shame that that didn’t stay.

When I finally downloaded FaceBook and made an account, I had lesbian in my bio. I saw no reason not to have it, it was as much a part of me as being a D&D nerd or musical theatre enthusiast was. My dad didn’t seem to agree. He told me to take it out, since I had family friended on there, and he wanted me to come out to them properly. I didn’t see the big deal, but I took it out anyway. I don’t want to come out to them properly, I don’t see why I should. What does it matter if I’ve got a wife or a husband, or no spouse at all? I’m still me, aren’t I? I took it out anyway.

My mum and dad are scared. Scared of the homophobia I’ll face, scared of the unknown, scared of the world around me so violent against my type. And they have reason to be, sure, reasons that aren’t my fault. I feel bad anyways. They wanted a simple daughter, who’d get a boyfriend and a husband and two kids behind a picket fence, or something along those lines. Then I said the word ‘Lesbian’ and it all came shattering down. Then they had to worry about me holding hands with a girl. Then they had to worry about me going out on a date and coming back in a body bag, because I saw the wrong homophobes at the wrong time. No parent deserves that fear. And I’m the one who inflicted it on them. All because I didn’t want to hold hands with a boy.

I haven’t had a proper relationship before. I had three short-term boyfriends by the time I was in Primary 7, meaningless, of course. My first girlfriend was my best friend, who I dated for a year or two. We’re still friends now, and I love her to bits, if less romantically. But, outside a couple Discord relationships that went… less that well, I’ve had nothing. The dating pool in a small town full of NEDs (Non-Educated Delinquents), half of which are men, and another quarter are homophobic, is rather small if you can believe it. I don’t get the standard girlhood things, of talking about crushes on boys and your dream date with a guy. I wouldn’t trade being a lesbian for the world, but I yearn for those experiences of girlhood more than anything.

Sometimes, I really hate it. I look online and the world hates lesbians. I look in ‘safe’ spaces and there’s discourse over how queer is too queer to be a lesbian. A boy calls someone a faggot as they walk past me in a hall, not knowing how sharp that word feels when it’s not a joke between you and your mates who know the pain of being queer. I look at my parents and I mourn the little girl they wanted. The little girl who could look away from all that gay stuff, who could brush slurs off like words, who wanted some stupid husband and a stupid picket fence. They’ll never say it to my face because they’re the best parents I’ve ever known, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything. (I look at the little girl and wonder if I’d trade myself. I can’t say ‘no’ without a quiver in my voice.)

I don’t know how to deal with this type of thing. I don’t know what the right way to feel about this is, or if there even is one. Do I suck it up? Do I cry? Scream? Do I lock my heart up and find a nice man with a big bank account? Do I stare longingly at girls, and hate myself for it as much as I love myself for it? They don’t teach this stuff in school, so I’m stuck. Stuck and, worst of all, scared. Being queer is radical, and proud, and loud, and I love it. But sometimes I want that quiet life, with a picket fence. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve let myself down, being myself. I wonder if I’d have been happier closeted and included, than proud and not.

Deep down, I know I wouldn’t have been. There’s no fighting me being a lesbian. But, when I look at my mum and dad, I can’t help but wish that there was.

[neon-the-griffinfox]

UH OH

LOOKS LIKE SOMEBODY IS T-T-TRIGGERED

[mourntheantagonist]

hc that Billy comes to love bath bombs after Starcourt. He starts keeping some at Steve's house and some at home. He finds they help a lot when he's having a really hard time either with physical pain from his injuries or just when he's struggling mentally.

don’t mind me absolutely going off below. idk how this turned into a full fledged one shot but I hope you enjoy it anon because your mind is so amazing.

———

I can imagine billy at home for one of the first few nights and he decides to take a bath because he still can’t really stand up too well on his own. when he walks in there’s a little bag on the counter that has his name written on it. Inside is this yellow sphere wrapped in plastic. he reads the label and follows the instructions and is stunned when the water starts to turn yellow and the scent of lemon fills the bathroom.

the scent is very calming, and considering he’s been on edge ever since he stepped back through the doors of his home, it’s a welcome feeling. when he gets in the water he’s surprised to notice the change of viscosity in the water. It’s slightly slimy but it feels really relaxing.

when he gets out of the tub after soaking for a while he feels for the first time since everything happened to be cleansed of the mindflayer. not entirely. but lingering hints to the scent of lemon make him feel clean and light and just a little less like a monster. no monster smells this good.

later that day max asked if he liked the bath bomb. for a split second he’s stuck on the word bomb until he figures out what she’s talking about.

“yeah. smelled good. thanks.” he’s still struggling to open up but he’s getting better about letting down his defenses, at least to max. part of letting down his defenses caused him to only be able to speak in one to two word sentences.

max understands though. and she appreciates not having to constantly walk on eggshells around him anymore. or at least not in the same way. instead being more concerned for scaring him rather than the other way around.

a couple days later he finds a box filled with twelve additional scents and colors and effects on his bed. he smiles. max.

she continues to restock for him as he cycles through each kind. his favorites are vanilla and lavendar and also the lemon. something about it makes his thoughts slow and his aches numb and he’s almost addicted to the feeling.

although it doesn’t last long because one day neil calls him out on it. asks him why he ‘smells like a faggot’. billy is initially able to say he used one of max’s soaps because he ran out, but that won’t fly for long. he eventually stops using them and lets the little collection he’s gathered sit under the sink in the bathroom to collect dust.

then he starts spending more time with steve. just needing to get out of his own house and out of his own bed for just a couple hours of the day he goes over to steve’s when he’s not at work. steve is constantly telling billy he enjoys his company but billy continues to apologize for burdening him. he’s not used to people just caring, and it’s especially foreign coming from steve for several reasons. one being that less than a year prior he nearly put him in the hospital. the second being that steve was a man, and there has never been a man in his life to actually care about him in that way. worried for his safety and well being. so billy tried to pull away, because he wasn’t going to allow him to let someone in just to be turned away at the door a second later.

but steve gets absolutely sick of it. sick of billy pulling away and believing he’s undeserving so steve practically forced him to believe it by kissing him the very next time he walks through the door. a very risky act on his part but he’s grown to trust billy over time that he’s not as worried as he could be for the outcome. he’s relieved when billy kisses him back, dropping a duffle bag to the floor that went completely unnoticed by steve as he was too locked in on billy’s lips. too locked in to notice the black eye that he only spotted when they pulled apart. too enthralled with the fact that he was kissing billy to taste the blood in his mouth. he’d ran away this time. he packed a bag and left and hoped steve would take him in. being met with a kiss right off the bat was the best thing that could have happened when steve opened that door. like the huge favor he was about to ask for almost became a small request because steve was inviting him into more than just his home. the kiss was an invitation into his life, and invitation for his care and love and all the mushy gushy stuff.

“I need a place to stay.”

steve, obviously and literally, welcomes billy into his home with open arms. immediately taking him to the bathroom to fix up the damage his father inflicted. steve kneeling before him while he sits on the toilet seat in complete silence. acting as if they didn’t have each other’s tongues down their throat just moments ago. both of them deciding it wasn’t the best time to talk about it. billy looked absolutely exhausted and worn and desperately needed sleep, and a nice bath (I know I just veered way off course but back to the regularly scheduled programming).

it was actually steve’s suggestion. noting the aches in his legs and back would probably be happy to be submerged under hot water. steve runs him the bath and goes to grab billy’s duffle upon request. steve gives him a soft kiss to the top of his head, before he leaves telling him they can talk about everything in the morning, and for him to just relax and take his time.

billy rummages for the small box he remembered to pack that’s filled with all the fun scents that max had been gifting him, after having to switch to using unscented alternatives which were nice but didn’t give him that same feeling.

he quickly picks out the cotton candy scented one that he’s been dying to try out. because what does cotton candy even smell like? he drops the bath bomb into the water and watches as it sizzles and quickly turns the water pink. oh if neil were there to see his sun soaking in a tub filled with pink water smelling like a fucking candy shop owner he’d do more damage than what had been inflicted earlier that night.

despite the developing bruises all over his body and the sting as the contents of the bath bomb filled his open wounds, he hadn’t felt this good in months. physically he felt like shit. but he was mentally and emotionally euphoric. running off the high from just minutes ago having steve harrington’s lips on his. the boy he believed to have been so far out of reach and was happy enough to just appreciate from afar. it felt unreal and like it was a dream. all that combined with the surprisingly intoxicatingly amazing aroma filling his senses and the feeling of rejoice as he finally took the steps to leave the clutches of his abuser and was so much more than successful. it was sheer bliss accompanied by aches and pains from past and present inflictions that didn’t seem so bad anymore.

steve and billy sleep in the same bed that night. they don’t cuddle or even so much as let limb touch limb, still unsure of the boundaries. but even with the distance between them steve can smell the unfamiliar candy like scent and takes it all in.

when they wake up in the morning they talk everything over during breakfast. billy tells him how his father just came home and started pounding into him completely unprompted. shouting slurs at him. the smell of whiskey potent on his breath. billy truly knew then that it was no longer about what he did or did not do. he’d feel his wrath regardless. and steve had scolded him about self preservation before and finally decided to take his advice.

then they adress the even larger elephant in the room, their kiss. it’s not that they were avoiding the topic per se, but they were definitely afraid to abandon this good feeling by talking about it. but they bite the bullet anyway, and they don’t regret that they do. despite how uncomfortable it is for billy to talk open about his feelings, especially these kinds of feelings, he feels something inside him release at the confession. like everything he was holding inside of him is free to the open air and steve takes hold of it and cherishes it.

their little unspoken thing that has been developing over the course of a few months finally being spoken. finally giving a name to the meaning to it all. of their late at night trips to the quarry. sharing a joint as they stare at the water below as it reflects the night sky. of their movie marathons on steve’s living room couch. giving meaning to each individual brush of the knee under the shared blanket. of stolen glances and words said under their breath. of thoughts of the other invading their dreams at night. a name to it all.

it’s a strange adjustment. to go from two guys secretly pining over each other from afar to instantaneously dating and living together. sharing a bed together, sharing meals together. things they were so used to doing alone now having a guest. it was nice and strange at the same time but they both welcomed it. waking up under the warmth of another human being. getting to see each other at their worst, when they were riddled with bed head and morning breath, and loving each other all the same.

what they did in bed wasn’t fucking. screwing. banging. it was much more. it was unfair to use those words that once described their previous encounters to describe what they did with each other. it was much different. putting their partners pleasure above their own. yearning for each other’s lips upon their own above anything else. as cheesy and corny as it is it was, they made love.

things moved awfully quickly. the two of them knowing they were in love with each other from the very start, however never saying the words out loud. they didn’t go through the normal stages of a relationship. they skipped a lot of steps and that led to some bad days. sometimes they spent too much time together, and billy’s on true safe haven came in spherical shaped and wrapped in noisy plastic, rather than a can of beer or a pack of marlboro’s.

that’s where he goes when things get shaky between the two. when he feels his fists clenching against his will and the veins on his forehead make their presence known. he escapes a potentially bad situation and lets his anger rise out of him with the steam of the hot water, and dissipate into nothingness. cleansing himself of the hurt. scars hidden under opaque colorful water.

the problem is steve doesn’t like when billy leaves him alone without word. he understands he needs his space, but he wishes he’d only talk to him about it before walking off.

on one day, when billy left mid conversation, steve follows. he honestly doesn’t know what he thought billy did in the bathroom for hours, and he’s not sure why he’s surprised to find his boyfriend laid out in a bath full of deep blue water with his eyes closed just relaxing. noticing the rise and fall of his chest as he takes in deep calming breaths. noticing the beach like scent that floods the room.

“can I join you?” steve finally asks. very intrigued in what all of this is.

billy thought he’d be more upset about steve bathing in. about him completely disregarding his need for space, but he wasn’t. perhaps space wasn’t really the thing he needed. he gestures to the other end of the tub, signaling the affirmative.

steve strips and slowly lowers himself into the tub. he’s facing billy who has since gone back and shut his eyes, head pointed to the ceiling. the water is very hot but feels really good on his skin. he has his legs pulled up to his chest as to not disturb billy. he just watches him as he relaxes completely. a state he rarely, if ever, has seen him in.

after several minutes billy opens his eyes and pulls steve over towards him so now they are both facing the same direction and steve is sitting in between billy’s legs. he has his arms wrapped around him and kisses his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for just walking out.”

“it’s okay. I get it.” steve responds, bringing his own hand to lay on top of both of billy’s that grip his stomach. “wanna tell me how you made the water turn blue?”

“magic.”

steve laughs and leans into billy, closing his eyes like he had and completely understanding almost instantly. it’s like he goes somewhere else. somewhere warm that smells of the ocean. somewhere nice and serene. he could easily fall asleep right there in billy’s arms. allowing himself to prune up under the water.

it’s something they continue together. when they both feel like they’ve had enough of each other for the day, instead of going off on their own, they strip down and enjoy a moment together in the tub. closing their eyes and imagining far away places while wrapped up in each other. a reminder that they’re both still there for each other. alone but together. dealing with their issues as a unit. feeling clean and smelling good afterwards.

steve comes home one day lugging in multiple bags worth of bath bombs along with other fun stuff like bath salts and bubble bars. their bathroom cupboards are better stocked than their kitchen. they both admit it might be just a little excessive.

but it doesn’t matter. because it’s perfect for them. any fight, any argument, any disagreement. all it takes is a brightly colored bath bomb and all that tension disaplears under the sizzle. it’s strange knowing they have max to thank for all of it.

[hainethehero]

BILLY BREAKS THINGS OFF WITH STEVE...

A big grin breaks Steve's face in two, glowing through his cheeks like a beautiful sunrise or something. He can hear the sound of Billy's Camaro rumbling to a stop in his front yard. His skin breaks out in goosebumps and his heart beats wildly, like an animal trapped in a cage.

It was movie night.

Nothing special, since they've been having nights like these since last Christmas. But tonight was different. Call him a stupid girl obsessing over shit that he shouldn't- but he really couldn't. Not after they'd done the Devil's tango for the first time about two days ago. Of course Billy had gone AWOL after that but he'd called earlier today... said he wanted to talk. It's been the only thing Steve could think about since that time... - that and the fact that he'd had sex with Billy for the first time! He stays replaying all the sounds and tastes in his head over and over again like a reel. He hoped to God that it had been as special for Billy as it had been for him.

His insides still felt soft, sore and mushy from where Billy had pounded into him, thighs burning with every movement of his legs. His pale hips sported several deep, purple, finger-shaped bruises and there were dark hickies colouring his alabaster neck like watercolours. And if he thought about it real hard, he could still feel Billy's hands in his hair, pulling and tugging and fucking yanking on it as he thrust into his tight hole.

God, he thinks, chastising himself for being so horny.

Get a grip Steve! Desperation was never a good look, on anyone.

Billy's suddenly at his front door, not even bothering to knock. No.

He just stands there looking all majestic and super chill in his aviators and leather jacket. Steve pulls the door open with shaky hands and just takes in the eyeful of glorious golden skin and Californian blue eyes. His heart flutters stupidly in his chest and Steve glares down at himself as if to berate his own goddamn heart. His cheeks become inflamed as Billy brushes past him, woodsy cologne filling Steve's senses. He tightens up involuntarily at the scent and slowly closes the door, biting at his lip with a nervous smile.

"H- hey," he mutters dumbly, craving the idea of rushing into Billy's arms but somehow restraining himself.

The blonde simply gazes at him; a kind of heat in his heavily hooded eyes. He's got on a white t-shirt under that black leather jacket, cotton pulled taut across his broad chest. God, Steve is going insane every minute his face isn't buried in Billy's chest. That's his safe place... and that white t-shirt is one of his favorites.

"We need to talk," Billy tells him in that raspy, low and smoky tone.

Steve goes molten between the legs and his heart does some weird kind of flip inside him. How the hell did Billy have so much control over his mind and body? Was that what sex with another guy was like? Or was this just a Billy thing? Because Steve has tasted the blonde once already- literally- ...and he wanted more.

"Yeah, we can," he nods with a grin, "but can we do it in my room? It's already warm in there and out here's like, freezing so-"

"Out here is fine," Billy interrupts, mouth drawn in a tight line and haw clenched tightly.

It's the first indication that maybe this was very serious and Steve hadn't noticed because he was too busy thinking about getting dicked down again.

"Wh- ...what's wrong?"

Billy stares at him, thick brows drawing over his darkened eyes. "I can't do this."

Oh God, Steve's gonna have an aneurysm.

"What?"

He forces himself to keep his cool, to not instantly turn into some crying, shaking mess that just wants to go down on his knees and beg the other boy to stay. He keeps repeating in his head that it's all just some sick fucking joke on Billy's part and offers the blonde a pained grin but his heart falters when Billy's expression doesn't change.

"Bill-"

"I'm leaving town. Tonight."

Steve feels the breath get knocked out of him and this time he takes a quick step forward. "Billy what's going on-??"

Billy takes a step back, growling. "I just told you, I'm leaving."

"That's not- ...What happened? Why are you leaving? Was it your Dad?"

"It wasn't my fucking Dad-"

"Well then tell me!"

"Tell you what?!" Billy shouts, getting in Steve's face now, a deep rumble in the back of his throat.

"Why are you leaving? Why now?" Steve snaps, the pit of his stomach hollowing itself. He's so fucking scared and hurt right now but all he can feel is the hot and cold running all over his damp skin. Hot tears prickle and sting his eyes but he doesn't dare blink for fear of missing Billy for too long.

"Harrington-"

"No!" Steve screams, "You tell me why you're suddenly moving out of Hawkins! Tell me why! Tell- wait, is it because of me?"

Something in Billy's expression shifts and he looks away, cursing under his breath, fists clenched hard.

"It's not you, don't flatter yourself Harrington."

And that particular statement puts Steve on notice. This couldn't have been Billy talking. His Dad maybe but he'd stopped calling him Harrington whenever they argued. Apparently it sounded too impersonal and not intimate at all. Which is the opposite of how Billy had been cooing and whispering his name the night they'd had sex. He'd even made sure to hold Steve through the worst of his first time, asking him gently whether or not he should pull out, or if he wasn't ready.

A tear slips down his cheek at the now sour memory.

"Then what was it? Is this town too small for you, Mr California? Not enough clueless hick town boys for you to fuck huh?"

Billy takes a menacing step forward and grabs him by the neck. "You're awfully close but no dice, " he snarls, "Unlike you, I actually got into college, so, I'm leaving. You think I want to stay stuck in this backwater town with some nobody who slings ice-cream for a living?"

Steve fights the strong grip, breaking it and taking a heaving step back, shudders wracking through his body. His breath comes out ragged, and pulls back in with a sob.

"What are you saying?" he mutters softly, too afraid to shout or even get angry, because that'll only make Billy leave faster. It always makes them leave.

Billy grunts, "Jesus Christ you want me to spell it out for you? I'm done, Harrington. We're done."

But Steve shakes his head, tears already falling silently from his eyes. His goddamn heart was in his throat.

"You can't do this..." he chokes, feeling sick to his stomach.

"Why can't I?" Billy growls, his face dry and emotionless.

"Because we-" Steve hisses but is cut off by an unexpected cry. He didn't have the strength to say those words right now- couldn't.

Too bad Billy had caught on anyway. "Because we what? Had sex a few days ago? Jesus Harrington, didn't take you for such a pussy. It was just a mindless fuck, didn't think you'd take it to heart. I'm not actually some fucking faggot like you."

Steve shakes his head, "Why are you doing this to me?" he sobs, feeling utterly betrayed.

Every part of his body felt betrayed right now- every single part of him that he'd let Billy touch, kiss and sink his teeth into. A sharp pain stabs him in the chest and then slowly sinks in all the way to his gut. It feels permanent, yet somehow like a terrible dream that he can't seem to wake up from.

Billy turns to leave and he doesn't have the strength to hold him back. Just watches him go through blurry eyes, body shaking with the massive effort it takes to keep from falling to his knees.

"Wheeler was right about you; you're bullshit Harrington."

Steve's knees only hit the floor when the Camaro rumbles off into the distance.

...............

Hardened blue eyes glare back at him from the rearview mirror.

The only sense of accomplishment he felt was that he'd finally put some distance between the monster in his head, and the one thing he loved more than life itself.

[thoughtfullyyoungduck]

And he said, I hope you know how to swim

A/N: this is for the gift exchange from @itfandomprompts! My giftee is @iheartthoreau who asked for shy skinny dipping lovers and jealous Eddie. I’m sorry it’s out so late, I hope you enjoy it anyway! 

Summary:  The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s bare foot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent. 

warnings: skinny dipping, mentioned of nudity (but nothing graphic)

read on a3o

The atmosphere of six best friends who’ve just moved past the worst stages in their life cackles in Eddie’s brain.

He’s buzzed up, energized beyond all logic by the laughter and loving gestures so carelessly tossed around in their group. Pennywise is dead, and with it the looming threat following each of them around and the teasing unhappiness hinting at what they were missing but not giving any clues as to what.

It’s all over now, and a road full of new opportunities lays ahead of them. Everyone is acting loose, ecstatic with the weight that fell off their shoulders. Eddie’s feeling a tad guilty too, for calling Myra and informing her that way about their upcoming divorce that he’s going to set in motion as soon as he’s had a good night sleep, but he felt so brave after surviving a literal killer clown, that he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

A part of him was also frightful that he’d lose his courage, between now and getting home, that he’d look around his house and accept that this was all he was destined for, a mediocre life with a wife he didn’t love and a job that sucked the joy out of all employees. Myra deserved better though, and that’s why Eddie’s guilty eyeing his phone, debating on calling her back. He won’t take back what he said, because he’s relieved to have put it out in the open, but he’s unsure if he should have been more empathetic towards her feelings in all of this. If he should have ended the call after telling her to take care.

Bev notices his wandering eyes from where she seated beside him on the couch, the woman still laughing a stitch, shifting forward and hiding his phone in between seat cushions. Out of sight out of mind so to speak.

‘We’ve got time to worry about it tomorrow Eddie.’ She says, and she’s right. Tomorrow both him and Bev will have to deal with the intricacies of divorce and separating a company and a home. Tonight is reserved for the losers only.

‘Yeah Eds, and here I was assuming that after twenty years we’d have some stuff to catch up on.’

Richie regards him from the floor, legs tossed up upon the couch with his body upside down. His glasses are sliding off, but he’s lazy to fix them, so he looks like even more of a goofball than normal. If Eddie could, if he didn’t feel like his intentions would be even more noticeable if he did, he’d scoot over to Richie, adjusting his glasses and letting his fingers trail his cheek and bask in the skin to skin contact.

‘You never did anything interesting before we went to college, what makes you think you’ve done something interesting after?’ Eddie’s tongue is sharp, a façade he builds to stop speculation about his feelings towards Richie, though the truth is that he is intrigued and he craves to know every small detail about his life outside of Derry.

‘No you guys are not starting this again. I’m sick of your bickering,’ Bill interjects, rolling his eyes at the pair.

‘I reject that big Bill, we’re hilarious, you can’t be sick of us bickering when you haven’t had the pleasure of hearing it for the last twenty years. Michael, back me up here buddy.’

‘Sorry Rich, I’m not getting involved in the slightest.’

‘Yeah guys come on, can’t we have one quiet night in?’

‘What so Eddie can just call me boring and I’m supposed to let it slide? Me? I’m the fireworks on the Fourth of July, the highest roller coaster in the park and the whipped cream on strawberries, but I am not boring.’ Richie changes positions, almost accidentally knocking over his beer bottle. He theatrically waves his arms back and forth, trying to animate his words and add conviction.

‘Okay, okay you’re not boring, but don’t overrate yourself either. The most adventurous thing you ever did in high school was skip a class to read a comic book in the school’s bathroom. Not exactly daredevil behavior.’

Bev sips from her whiskey, winking at Richie whose face turns beet red for a reason Eddie can’t decipher. It’s not until Bev conspicuously blows out a gust of air with her lips puckered that Eddie connects the dots.

‘Didn’t you say you ditched because you were smoking with Beverly? Dude did you fucking lie about that? I was worried you’d die and get cancer ever since that day you piece of shit.’

‘No I definitely did smoke. I swear.’

‘You’re not kidding anyone Rich, I vouched for you all those years ago, but I’m not doing it again. Little Richie was a comic book nerd who just pretended to be really cool. We never ever smoked together.’

The losers all holler, clapping their hands together and cheering on the exposure of their foulmouthed friend, debunking all the story Richie apparently made up where he and Be had to sneak out at night to smoke inconspicuously, with the exception of Eddie and Richie. Eddie, because he’s busy glaring at Richie and Richie because he’s busy tapping Bill’s hand away, teasingly disheveling his hair.

Eddie wishes he was brave enough to give these little affections to his friend, especially after witnessing how soothed Richie got when Eddie hugged him after Neibolt, when he had dropped his face into the nape of Eddie’s neck and stayed there, swaying on his feet of exhaustion. It would only make him a good friend, a best friend, but Eddie is still so damn afraid.

He might have had the power to separate from his wife and kill an abstract form of his deepest fears, but Bowers angry yelled words, such as fairy and faggot, swung to his head any time he and Richie graveted closer while walking, haunt him even now.

Touching is off limits the words tell him, so he shows affection the only way he’s ever known towards Richie, by bickering and pulling pigtails.

‘I should have expected that.’ Eddie nods vehemently, laughing as Richie’s mouth drops open in a shocked manner.

‘Are you kidding me? Eddie Spaghetti is the one telling me I’m a loser?’

Eddie flips him off, ignoring Mike’s whispered; ‘he’s got a point’, in favor of levitating his full attention on Richie. The giggling in the room elevates an octave higher.

‘You all laugh’, Richie addresses the entire group, ‘but was I not the one who came up with the idea for the list?’

Abruptly, all sounds snap off, as everyone is snapped back to the past. Even Richie is, at face value, confused about the word he spoke, until the concept and creation of the list is brought to the forefront of everyone’s mind.

‘Holy shit.’

‘Oh my god Mike please tell me you still have it.’

Mike shakes his head with a far-off look. ‘Sorry guys, I don’t know who had it last but I never found it again.’ He’s saddened by it, like he did them all an injustice by not holding on to a flimsy piece of paper.

The List, capital L, was nothing more but a checklist, composed with all the fun and dangerous things the losers all had hopes of doing after graduating high school. Eddie remembers now, the hushed laughter and uncompromisable joy that came with the simple idea of these things, how everyone pitched in and added dare after dare while him and Stan exchanged glances and hoped to god that some things would never be executed.

‘That’s okay Mike, I’m just happy we can all remember making it.’ Ben smiles reassuringly Mike’s way, who smiles back and takes a deep breath.

‘Wait, I think I can recall some of the things we wrote on there. Hold on’, Bev squeezes her eyes shut and snaps her finger in the hope it will get to her faster. ‘Oh’, she exclaims, startling Bill who chokes on his own saliva, ‘we were going to visit Europe, do a high rope parkour, rock climb and some other things I can’t remember right now.’

‘Didn’t we also agree to volunteer in a hospital and go camping in the national forest?’ Ben asks, awaiting confirmation.

‘Yeah we did, Stan was throwing a fit over going camping because of the environment and the dirt, but we were well on our way to convince him.’

‘Wow,’ Richie breathes, chest puffing up and head dropping back into the couch so his face isn’t visible to the rest. ‘I forgot all about that, but come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I did most of those things with Bryan.’

And who the fuck is Bryan? Certainly not Eddie, sweating in fear from the things that were being listed, searching for the most extreme dares he’d seen happen on tv to suggest, doing anything he could to impress Richie. Eddie was terrified of most of the activities on the list, like Bev’s idea to waterski in the ocean, or Mike’s zip lining idea, but he would have done them if it meant he could bask in Richie’s attention, impress Richie to rid himself of scared baby Eddie was so sure he must have been in Richie’s eyes. So who the hell was this Bryan stealing his thunder like that?

‘Who’s Bryan?’ Bev inquires with a smirk, winking at Richie blush ridden face. Eddie’s jealousy rears its ugly head, flaring up and making his head woozy. He simultaneously both considers choking Bev and thanking her for the question.

With Richie’s secret fresh on his mind, the way he’d so shamefully admitted that he was gay and they were the first people he’d ever found the courage to tell, Eddie wondered if Bryan was perhaps someone Richie had been romantically involved with.

Richie would have deserved it, Eddie argues in his mind, to at least for a short period of time have someone love him back as fiercely as he dons it out, but Eddie’s also furious that he stole Richie out from under his nose.

Which is illogical, because even if he and Richie had managed to stay in touch, and Eddie confessed – not much chance there, as Eddie didn’t even tell anyone he was gay when Richie did - there was no guaranty that Richie would’ve reciprocated.

‘No one snoopy’, Richie argues with a jittery leg, ’just some guy I hung out with for a while.’

Bev appears unconvinced, but she’s also respectful towards Richie's decision to not say anything. ‘So which ones did you complete?’

‘I went to Europa senior year of college, smoked a bunch of weed, went zip lining. The normal kind of stuff.’

Zip-lining, or smoking weed for that matter, causes Eddie skin to crawl, not that he’d ever admit it. He hates that that’s not the case for Bryan.

‘Well thanks Rich, none of us ever did anything on the list without the other losers. I guess you didn’t miss us too much.’ It’s not fair, of course it’s not. He can tell by the eagerness to spend time together that Richie was very lonely, and experienced the same aching emptiness where his friends were supposed to be as the rest of them.

The bitter tone of Eddie's speech, and the way Richie’s eyes turn a little dimmer extinguishes the fire of Eddie’s envy. Richie deserves better than him in every way. An apology lies at the tip of his tongue, ready to jump into the open and hopefully aid the wounds before they’re fully developed.

Sensing the impending hurricane of trouble on the horizon Mike is eager to intervene, playing mediator for two forces that are about to collide. ‘Well I mean, we probably wouldn’t have gone through with most of them anyway.’

‘Speak for yourself’, Eddie waves him off, spiteful that Mike has a good point. He would have found a way to undermine their plans and make it so that he could back out without appearing like a meek lamb, for at least half of the activities. If he had known about Bryan’s existence though, he would have done anything. He feels ready now to do anything, to one up him and establish his spot as Richie’s number one.

‘Prove it,’ Bill dares with a lopsided smirk, certain he’s got Eddie beat. He sustains eye contact, reaching for the bag of chips on the table and gnawing on it with the most smug aura Eddie has ever witnessed him having.

‘I would’, Eddie defends fiercely, ‘but we can’t do any of the things in Derry.’

‘Sounds like a cop out to me.’

‘Yeah, sure Big Bill, because you can easily find a zip line here in Derry. The town that refused to spend money on renewing the library back in the eighties is no doubt going to have that installed by now.’

‘What about skinny dipping?’ Ben proposes innocently, having no idea the kind of strain he’s putting Eddie under.

‘That’s a great idea Ben, I forgot we put that one on the list.’ Beverly acknowledges despite Eddie’s frantic head shaking. The room temperature drops down and rises back up steadily, at least according to Eddie. He’s starting to sweat, something he never does and takes pride in – in the office he’s the level headed one, and that’s saying something – and he pulls at his collar to allow some air to ventilate.  

Everything except that. A swim in a dirty lake that was most likely infected was a whole plate of different bacteria, and being naked in front of the man he’s in love with is not something Eddie is particularly fond of. He almost asks for a different thing to do, but that would truly be a cop out, and he both refuses to back down in front of Richie and give Bill the satisfaction of being right.

‘Good luck with that Eds, question before this all goes down, am I allowed to use this in my next bit?’

‘Actually,’ Bev interrupts, ‘I think you should join him too.’

‘Hey I wasn’t the one that said I’d be willing to do anything.’

‘No, but you were the one who added it on the list in the first place. C’mon Richie, It’ll be fun. For us, not for you guys, but we’ll get a good laugh out of it.’

Richie is hesitant, same as Eddie, readjusting his glasses again. Eddie is sure that if he says the word Richie will tell everyone to back down for him. He wouldn’t even make fun of Eddie for it, should Eddie give any indication that he wouldn’t want him too. He thinks back to Bryan, and how he wouldn’t have backed down for such a thing, and how in awe Richie must have been seeing the man abandon all safety precaution and go for it, Eddie’s mind is made up instantly.

‘Let’s do it.’ He says without leaving room for argument, nodding at Richie as he looks to him. He hopes Richie will go with it, but is also confident that of course he will. As kids they followed each other everywhere, and surely that hasn’t changed.

‘Really? I mean yeah – sure I guess. Bring it on.’

-----

The Derry midnight breeze is freezing, Eddie notes, still dressed in a shirt and pants and dreading having to get rid of them. He’s barefoot now, standing on top of the quarry and peering down into the glinting lake. Eddie’s jumping from one foot to the other, annoyed that dirt is clinging to his skin and branches are piercing his soles, even more aggravated at the idea of cleaning them in infection filled lake water. Bev better keep her end of the promise, and be waiting near the end of the lake with a pair of fresh pressed towels.

Next to him, also bare foot, Richie looks over his shoulder, and laughs, bright and innocent.

‘I forgot how high this was.’

It is high up, but they’ve done this jump at least a hundred times before, so Eddie’s not worried about the plunge. He’d assume Richie isn’t either, but the man keeps glances towards the path they took to get up here, uncharacteristically silent.

‘It’s okay if you're too scared to go through with it Eduardo, I won’t tell the others.’ Richie smirks when he notices Eddie’s glance, crossing his arms over his chest.

The movement makes his shoulders bulk, highlighting just how much bigger Richie is compared to Eddie. Eddie’s mouth waters, and he starts to worry about how he’s going to have to get through seeing Richie’s naked shoulders in the flesh.

‘Just get undressed will you? Hurry up.’

‘Why? Eager to see my bare ass?’

‘Yeah, because who doesn’t think jumping naked into a lake they frequented as kids is the epitome of sexiness? No you self-centered idiot, I want to get it over with so I can go back to the Inn and grab a warm shower.’

With one last peek, Eddie moves backwards, standing away from the ledge and begins to unbutton his shirt, before thinking better off it. Richie picks up on his hesitation, shifting backwards too and motioning his head towards the ridge.

‘Do you want me to show you how it’s done?’

‘No,’ Eddie objects, ‘I’ll go first.’

‘Why? I’m not going to stare at your junk while you're jumping in if that’s what you're worried about Eddie. I’m not that kind of gay.’ Rarely does Richie toss aside an opportunity to grant Eddie another humorous nickname, so the use of his real name spooks Eddie just enough that he opens his mouth to apologize without even realizing what he’s apologizing for.

Richie’s facial expression, set in a grimace and squinting his eyes defensively, are a dead give away that Eddie’s words are being taken the wrong way. If only Richie knew that Eddie wanted him to go in first so he could avoid the same temptation Richie thought he was forcing on him.

‘Richie no, that’s not what I meant I-.’ Heartfelt compliments are not something Eddie has had a lot of practice for these last few years, and he’s not doing a good job catching up on them either. Therefore he sighs and hopes that he can find another way to prove to Richie he’d never accuse him of something like that. ‘Whatever, just go first already.’

‘Fine but turn around okay?’

Eddie listens to him, back towards Richie and the jump off, though he doesn’t really understand the request. With Richie comes a lot of flair, and he was more or less been prepared for a joke about how Eddie got to confirm how big his dick is in reality.

He waits and listens carefully for the sounds of clothes being dropped on the ground, and he can’t stop his mind from secretly imagining how Richie looks like without them once he distinguishes it.  Eddie shakes his head, scolding his own mind.

The next few moments are filled with raspy breaths originating from Richie, footstep sounding further away and then closer again in an erratic pattern. He must be scared of the jump. Under normal circumstances, Eddie would ask to jump in at the same time, but since Richie asked Eddie not to turn around, he won’t.

‘If you don’t jump in the next five minutes,’ Eddie teases, the way Richie used to tease him, ‘I’ll push you in.’ A second later Eddie hears Richie’s loud whooping as he plunges down into the dark water.

Eddie spins, the only thing greeting him the dark with very little light clearing up his path, from the moon. He’s having a hard time to even see where the cliff ends, and he can’t disguise Richie in the water at all.

‘I’m coming in’, he yells to the void, in case Richie can’t discern his body in time and needs to move out of the way. He takes off his clothes, goosebumps erupting on his skin, and folds his pants and t-shirt up neatly, touching the ground with his hands to find a dry spot to lay them on. The air is cold, and so Eddie refuses to linger on top any longer than he has to.

He jogs up to the ledge and darts off before his mind can conjure up the thousands of things that can go wrong from swimming in the dark this late at night. His body flies through the air and connects with the water in one swoop, a pit of glee bursting in Eddie’s stomach. Jumping from the quarry equals freedom, a hot summer day and love for all of his friends, but in particular Richie.

Eddie keeps his head underwater until his lungs burn, eyes closed and allowing himself to just feel all the sensations. Then, something tickles the back of his leg, and the peaceful moment is over. He kicks back the surface, away from the spot where he could swear something touched him, and searches around for Richie.

Richie, with his wet black hair clinging to his forehead, strands of it sticking out in every direction, and his droplet covered glasses, roving more of Eddie’s heart each minute they’re near each other. He’s never looked more beautiful, and Eddie has never had to fight the urge to kiss him as much as he does now.

‘See, I told you I wouldn’t stare Eds, I can’t even see anything with all these splatters on my glasses.’

The moon reflects on the water, so that it’s impenetrable, and neither Rich nor Eddie can look down and see their lower body parts.

What Eddie can see is enough anyway, Richie’s shoulders and part of his chest hold Eddie’s attention, and he forgets to respond to Richie’s comment.

His eyes land on a dark bruise, just on the bottom of Richie’s neck, a remnant of their fight with Pennywise earlier that day. Without thinking, without standing still on the consequences of such an action, Eddie swims closer, stretches his arm out, and lingers his fingertips over the bruise. He carefully positions his body to not touch any other body part of Richie’s except for his fingers on his neck.

He makes an inquisitive noise, thumb stroking over the injury in what he hopes to be a calming matter. He physically can’t pull away, entranced with the way he moves and responds to him, trying but failing to get his fill of Richie clenched.

‘Eddie’, Richie whispers, scared to break the silence and the intimate moment. ‘It’ll be fine. And hey, at least he didn’t do anything to my dick.’

‘Yeah, would have been a shame if it were to become even smaller.’

Richie snorts, retaliating the jest with a wave of dirty water aimed at Eddie.

Eddie gasps, spitting out a bit of water that managed to sneak into his mouth. ‘Oh you’re on.’

The two of them chase each other, and if it weren’t for the fact that they were both naked, Eddie would have thrown his entire body weight in the game to push Richie underwater. As it stands, they just splash back and forth until they’re exhausted and the remnants of their laughter dies out, barely enough energy left to stay afloat side by side.

‘Did you have this much fun with Bryan?’ Eddie asks, a bit envious. He hates how he’s still stuck on the Bryan thing, hates that his mind keeps popping images of them doing the exact same thing only to end it with a kiss.

‘What?’

‘With Bryan, the guy you did all that other stuff with?’

‘Oh no, me and Bryan – we were never together like that.’ Back at the hotel room, Eddie figured that that was a ploy to distract Bev, something Richie just said because he couldn’t comfortably admit the real intent of their relationship. But he’s never lied to Eddie, and his eyes, magnified by his glasses, seem so sincere, Eddie has no other option but to believe him. ‘I-I’m- some other guy already has that place all taken up.’

Eddie stupid, oblivious and dense and everything in between. He knows Richie isn’t talking about him, he knows he could never be the guy Richie would hold all hope out for – he also secretly hopes it’s none of the losers -, but he wants to be so bad. Just one time, just one kiss and he’d be sated enough to let go of his feral behavior towards any potential love interest Richie might have. Just one time.

‘Richie’, Eddie starts, biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. He’s taking a huge risk, by foreseeing a rejection but hoping that Richie won’t drop him as a friend because of this. If Eddie doesn’t do this, he’ll never stop wondering what it feels for their lips to meet. He’ll never get over Richie because he never got to experience any with him.

‘Can I kiss you?’ He risks releasing his lip.

Richie is visibly shocked. ‘What? What the fuck? Eddie is this a joke?’

The joke is, as usual, all on Eddie who regrets ever opening his mouth in the first place. He could try to laugh it off, say that it was a joke, but that would mean that he pretends to make a jest out of something Richie has struggled with for his entire life. He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Left with no other options but to further dig his own grave, Eddie decides to be honest. At least that means he gets to keep part of his integrity.

‘No Richie of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you. I’m sorry. Look I like you but it’s obviously one sided and I just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss you but it was a stupid request and I shouldn’t have asked you that. Oh god, I never even asked if you were dating someone –‘

‘Eds?’

‘- Fuck can we please forget I said anything so we can still hang out?’

‘Eddie?’

‘What?’

‘Yes. Please kiss me.’

Eddie gapes with his mouth open, struggling for breath and for words. He’s half convinced he misinterpreted  the words, but his tilted head proves otherwise. Eddie doesn’t question it further, counting his lucky start for once, and leaning in to his emotions and Richie, breaching the water to get to him.

Their kiss is surprisingly gentle for the ungovernable lead up prior to it. Richie’s lips taste like lake water, but deeper underneath lies a tang of something distinctively Richie. Eddie can’t wait to devour him whole once he’s cleaned up. Their lips move together in tandem, a perfect harmony that for once neither are willing to break.

They pull back, Richie’s arms circling Eddie’s waist, and he smiles. His smile mixed with the love stricken gleam in his eyes, mysteriously tells Eddie that Richie feels the exact same way he does. His chest caves with happiness.  

‘I like you too, if it wasn’t obvious. A lot more than Bryan.’

‘For the love of God can we never mention that again? It’s embarrassing. No, Hush’, Eddie says urgently, covering Richie’s mouth with his palm when he opens his mouth to conjure up another joke.

‘Fine,’ Richie says while pulling away from Eddie’s hand. ‘How about we talk about something else then? How the fuck are we supposed to get to our clothes?’

[thedreadvampy]

Like on the one hand YES THANK YOU KURT but on the other hand I’ve seen Glee? It is one thing to have your characters let bigotry slide and another to have your show let bigotry slide and you don’t get around that by having one character who calls it out when it’s aimed at him

like this is the show which last season came down on the side of “Finn shouldn’t have repeatedly yelled homophobic slurs at Kurt but really who can say who’s in the right here because Kurt is after all a Predatory Gay Trying To Turn Straight Boys”

and has already this season reduxed that plot with “I know I said Finn was wrong for calling you a faggot but it is in fact you who is wrong for trying to do a duet with someone who Might Be Straight. no means no but we’ll ignore that this is literally only pointed out for you asking someone to sing a duet not for like. actual stalking and threats from straight characters”

and will later this season (or next season? idk?) top that with “actually Santana I think you should apologise to Finn for slapping him after he vindictively outed you publicly in a violently homophobic space as a petty act of revenge”

and as I’m watching Glee back in a post-Pose era I’m seeing all the stuff that kept me coming back in the 2010s, the bones and setups for really emotive relateable stories about queer complexity like “Kurt is desperate to be loved but doesn’t know how to manage doing that as a gay teenager” or “someone you love is overtly homophobic to you” or “I don’t even want a boyfriend I just want to be allowed to be loved” or “Santana is a lesbian but is terrified of what will happen if she admits it even to herself” or “people assume Kurt is being predatory and don’t even imagine that Sam might be bi or gay” and then. the stuff that even in 2010 as a bi teenager entrenched in the irony-poisoned 4chan culture of the noughties could recognise as an absolute clusterfuck of homophobia, binarism and normativity being the payoff for every one of them.

and like. it’s oversimplification to say Everything Good About Glee Was From The Gay Writer And Everything Bad Was From The Straight One but like. rewatching I am struck by how much it feels like a tug of war between someone kind of uncomfortable with queerness or subversion (someone who wants Finn and Will and Rachel to be the heroes and Sue, Quinn and Santana to be the villains, who wants oppression to be a misunderstanding, who pretty much wants to play Glee straight as a campy but simple sitcom) and someone who wants to write something satirical and rooted in gay culture (it’s stylistically drawing SO HEAVILY on But I’m A Cheerleader, its most memorable plots are about reflecting the experiences of being an outcast for reasons outside your control. this version of Glee wants us to know that Will, Rachel and Finn are kind of horrible people and so is everyone else, that Quinn and Santana are trapped in a prison of expectations, and that Sue is ultimately better than the other adults because she doesn’t fool herself into thinking she’s Nice)

and it isn’t that increasingly I feel like interactions between Kurt/Sue and Will are directly conversations between the writers, but I do think that they feel like arguments between the two shows Glee is trying to be. and Will Schuester is the worst but he keeps winning. no actually we should let homophobia slide. no actually spoilt cishet white kids are the Real Outcasts and queer punks could not possibly understand being outcasts. no actually you always have to take bullying on the chin or you’re as bad as your oppressor. get over it. make space for the main characters. we should forgive Finn for violent homophobia and Rachel for constantly fucking over everyone around her and Will for ALL THAT SCHUESTER STUFF but like. don’t forget Santana was slutty and Kurt hit on a straight guy and Quinn was mean sometimes.

[theliterateape]

Why Keep Giving Facebook My Business?

By David Himmel

It was the day after Christmas, 1996. I was a senior in high school on winter break. My friends and I piled into Brad Feely’s red Jeep Cherokee—me in the trunk because there weren’t enough seats for all of us and I was the smallest and cramming into a car too small for the passenger load is what high school kids do. We were headed to the mall to return ill-fitting gifts and fuck around because fucking around at the mall is—was—what high school kids do.

Brad had some things to return or exchange at Abercrombie & Fitch. He was at the checkout counter with the young woman making the exchanges. The rest of us wandered around the store. I started throwing on shirts, coats, hats, scarves, and such and acted out a runway fashion show. My friends giggled. I went bigger with my one-man flash mob fashion show. Other customers stared, some laughed, some ignored me. I went bigger. My friends laughed harder. Other customers laughed harder and tried to ignore me. I had achieved my goal. I’d fucked around in a store and made people laugh.

I took off the clothes, placed them back on the racks and shelves and walked up to Brad still at the counter. The employee had stepped into the back to retrieve something.

“Almost done?” I asked him.

He whispered to me, “You won’t believe what this girl just said about you.”

“What.”

“She called you a ‘dirty faggot.’”

“What!?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure.”

“One hundred percent. She said it under her breath, but, yeah. I heard her say it.”

I waited there for the young woman to return. A few moments later, she did. She finished up Brad’s exchanges, handed him his bag of stuff and said, “Have a nice day.”

“Excuse me,” I said to her, leaning in so as not to make a scene. Because this scene wasn’t going to be funny. But I was sure not to be too quiet about it since I did want the store to know what was going on. “Did you see my fashion show?”

“Um. Yeah?”

“Did you like it?”

She smirked uncomfortably. “Sure.”

“So why would you call me a ‘dirty faggot’?” Her face went white. Blank. Her eyes wide. Mouth agape. She’d been caught. “Yeah. My friend here heard you say it. So my question to you is this: What was dirty about what I was doing? And what about what I was doing made me a ‘faggot’? And if you thought I was being gay, what’s wrong with that? And why would you refer to a gay person as a ‘faggot’? Seems a little hateful.”

“I… I…” she stuttered, still pale faced and surprised.

“Doesn’t seem like the best customer service, does it? Insulting your customers—or their friends—with homophobic slurs.”

“I… I…”

“Yeah. Mind your mouth. Don’t be such a hateful, homophobic asshole. Especially in a store filled with photos of what have to be the gayest modeling shoots in retail history.”

People were watching and I took the cue to go louder. “That’s right, everyone. This woman, this Abercrombie & Fitch employee called me a ‘dirty faggot’. Just know the kind of person you’re buying your clothes from.”

I saw one guy drop whatever was in his arms and walk out. My friends and I followed suit.

✶

I never stepped foot in an Abercrombie & Fitch store after that. And I’m proud to say I never owned or wore a single item of theirs after my impromptu fashion show. Yeah, sure. She was a bad apple, but still. It had turned me off to the whole brand. Fuck ‘em.

Did my not buying their mostly ugly clothes—country club grunge?—hurt their bottom line? Did it send a message? No. Certainly not. Did it change the mind and behavior of that employee? I have no idea. Maybe. Maybe she’s a super-duper social justice warrior today. Maybe she doubled down and tried to Stop the Steal. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I experienced an insult to the customer and a group of people, and chose not to give that company my money.

I don’t shop at Hobby Lobby because of their treatment of workers—denying them birth control through their benefits program. I don’t eat Chick-fil-A because they oppose marriage equality and used to fund activities to suppress it. I wring my hands every time I order something on Amazon because I’m worried the worker filling my order might piss or shit themselves trying to meet their quota with my order. Or worse, get hurt doing so. Because we all know that Amazon treats its warehouse workers like demented mules instead of actual human beings with physiological limitations and full bladders.

It’s principle. I try to spend where my money will do the least harm because I know, in most instances, my spending won’t help much other than to keep someone employed at a shit job and make the owner that much richer.

So why haven’t I quit Facebook yet? Same reason I haven’t quit Amazon: It’s too convenient.

Also like Amazon, but far worse, Facebook is a monster. It was from the start. I joined under duress in 2008 because it was part of my job. When that job laid me off in the wake of the Great Recession, I killed the account. But Facebook gained more and more traction, and it seemed that I was missing out. Plus, it was a great way to promote the shows I was writing and producing. And I reconnected with old friends from lives past. Fun!

It became a reflexive way to procrastinate. Instead of standing up and stretching or reading a news story or going for a walk, I’d scroll mindlessly. Still, it was fun. It became a habit I wasn’t even aware of.

And it’s still fun, sometimes. I enjoy being easily—reflexively lazy—connected to those old pals I don’t see every day and probably wouldn’t communicate with if not for the ease of Facebook. But Facebook is bad. And when I say Facebook, I’m including Instagram, which I rarely use. (I have no issue with WhatsApp but I also only use that maybe once every two years.) They both suck. So it’s bad for our brains, bad for our body images, bad for democracy, bad for discourse, and so on. None of this is news. And this week’s whistleblowing of how actively evil Facebook leadership is reinforces the fact of how bad it apparently wants to be. And that’s insulting to all of its users and even non-users.

Because Facebook could still make millions of dollars a week and take active measures to be a better corporate citizen, a better steward of human decency. Like, has Facebook even added a pink ribbon to its logo for Breast Cancer Awareness Month? I don’t think so. Evil.*

I don’t need Facebook. The community groups are nice. And I really do like seeing those old friends I wouldn’t otherwise communicate with. And I take joy in the possibility that ex-girlfriends might occasionally poke through my profile and see how awesome my hair is. But I don’t need it. If I want to promote something, I can place an ad anywhere else. My god, what did we do before Facebook? And there are so many other digital ways to share our bullshit.

If I leave, will Facebook feel it? Nope. Just like Abercrombie. My aversion is less than a pebble drop in the ocean. But I’ll feel better. Right? I’ll miss my friends I wouldn’t otherwise talk to, but if they mattered that much to me, I could make the effort to text or call. But I won’t. Because the apparent truth is that having them as friends on Facebook is more about the voyeurism. So wait, are we even friends then? Jesus. Facebook has even warped our sense of friendship. 

I don’t know if I’ll leave it. But it’s been on my mind for a while now. Maybe I won’t go cold turkey, maybe I’ll start by deleting the app from my phone. Or maybe it’s best to pack up all my shit and walk right out. That’s the advice I’d give to someone else in an abusive relationship.

 *Just so we’re clear, this whole going pink in October thing that companies, local police departments, sports organizations love to do is dumb. It’s the bare minimum at best and limp virtue signaling at worst. If you really care about breast cancer, do a better job of caring about women. So, you know, pay better wages, offer childcare, don’t shoot them in their homes. Take your pink ribbon and shove it. Do better.

[hartigays]

11 from the list plz Ps I love ur work

11. “I thought you didn’t want me.”

it’s been a slow day at family video - slow enough to make steve’s head practically throb from boredom.

he’s been tossing a superball at the ground over and over for the past hour, letting it rebound into his hand, not a customer in sight. robin is somewhere in the back, under the guise of needing to go through the returns, though it’s more likely that she’s taking a nap.

when the bell above the door jingles, steve doesn’t even look up at first. there’s not really any point - if the customer needs help finding something, they’ll ask. it isn’t until he hears a soft, flirtatious giggle that he looks up, his stomach dropping at the scene unfolding before him.

because it’s not just any annoying couple - it’s billy hargrove and some girl from high school that steve can’t for the life of him remember the name of, browsing through movies with sickeningly cute smiles on their faces.

steve’s billy. the one he’s been holding and kissing and fucking and loving for the last six months. the one he thought loved him back, because billy said so and steve was apparently dumb enough to believe him. so, like, what the fuck?

billy leans in close, whispering something in the girl’s ear that makes her giggle and blush again, and steve’s insides feel like they’re on fire. neither of them even notice that steve is there, watching them with an expression that can only be described as livid.

it isn’t until steve clears his throat that either of them look up. steve can see all the color drain from billy’s face at once. and yeah, steve gets it. he wasn’t even supposed to be working today, but keith had to be a little bitch about his sinus infection, so here steve is. covering for him and bearing witness to the worst possible situation he could’ve ever been presented with.

it’s pretty obvious that billy knew steve wasn’t supposed to be working today, based on the expression on his face. and, man, ain’t life a bitch?

steve can’t find it in himself to feel bad for billy. not when the fucker has seemingly been running around behind his back this whole time, lying about his feelings for steve. lying about the life he supposedly wants with him. so steve sets his jaw, plastering on a faux smile.

“welcome to family video,” steve says through gritted teeth, “let us know if you need help finding anything.”

the girl just nods eagerly, thanking him and continuing down the aisle, browsing the titles on the shelves before her.

billy doesn’t move at first, frozen in place, staring at steve with wide eyes. like a deer caught in the headlights, or a kid with its hand caught in the cookie jar. steve just stares right back, before ultimately deciding he doesn’t want to give billy the time of day.

not right now. not after this.

steve turns on his heel, making his way into the back. he has to curl his hands into fists to keep them from shaking, trying not to let angry tears spill over.

“hey, you okay?” robin asks when he walks into the room in the back, where they keep all their unshelved returns and new arrivals.

“no,” steve says honestly, leaning against the doorframe and rubbing his temples. “billy just came in. with a girl.”

“like, a girl girl?” robin asks. “not like, a cousin-girl? or like, a girl who maybe likes other girls-girl?”

“if that’s how he acts with his cousins or other lesbians, i’m a little concerned.”

robin gives him a sympathetic look. “well, maybe there’s an explanation. you should probably talk to him before deciding to launch yourself off the deep end.”

“what is there to talk about?” steve groans, burying his face in his hands. “he came here to pick out a video. with another girl. who he was flirting with. she was giggling, robin. like i’m gonna fuck you later giggling.”

“maybe they’re friends and she’s just a flirty type of person,” robin suggests. “you and plenty of girls have flirted with each other, but it didn’t always mean you guys wanted to go out or fuck each other, right?”

steve doesn’t get the chance to answer, because someone from the front rings the bell at the front counter. given that there are only two customers in the whole store, who came together, there’s only one guess as to who it might be.

he gives robin a pleading look. “can you take care of it? please?”

“of course,” robin says easily. she pats his arm before walking out of the room, disappearing out onto the main floor.

steve slides down the wall he’s leaning against, sinking onto the ground with a pitiful groan. like, steve can’t totally blame billy for running around behind his back. because girls? billy can take them out in public, can flirt with them and hold their hands and kiss them without anyone batting an eye.

he can’t do those things with steve. they’ve had to sneak around the entire time they’ve been dating, only robin and heather knowing the full extent of their relationship. steve thinks joyce and hopper might suspect, maybe even max, though they haven’t asked. but the bottom line is, steve and billy have had to hide.

billy doesn’t have to hide if he’s with a girl. steve thinks that’s maybe what hurts the most, knowing that he genuinely can’t blame billy for wanting to be with someone who doesn’t have to be his dirty little secret.

it’s just - steve loves him. he really does. and billy was the one who was worried in the first place that steve would want someone else after a while, not wanting to have to hide and lie and keep secrets, running around with the only gay guy in town. steve never would’ve thought that billy would be the one to get fed up and move on, leaving their relationship and everything they’ve shared together in a cloud of dust.

“the camaro wasn’t outside,” is the first thing robin says when she returns to the back room.

steve looks up at her, his brows furrowing in confusion. “maybe he left?”

“no, billy was still here. but the camaro wasn’t outside. doesn’t he usually drive when you guys hang out?” robin asks.

“uh, yeah. maybe he’s having car trouble and she drove?” steve suggests, his nose wrinkling.

because okay, yeah, billy would rather pull out his own teeth than ever let anyone else drive if given the option. so it’s a little weird. but it doesn’t mean that there’s not still something funky going on with billy and this girl, whoever she is.

robin shrugs. “dunno. just thought that was weird. just another reason for you to talk to him, instead of wallowing.”

steve doesn’t know how to answer that, so he doesn’t. he doesn’t have an answer for her when he locks up later that evening, or when he pulls up to his house, or when he flops onto the couch to pout into his takeout.

because steve doesn’t know if he wants to know what’s going on. what if he’s right? what if billy really is running off with someone else? with some nameless girl? or what if it’s something worse?

realistically, steve doesn’t know what could possibly be worse than billy abandoning him for someone else. but it’s the fact that there could be something. something that could break his heart even more than billy finding someone else to love.

there’s a knock on his front door and it pulls steve from his thoughts, putting a momentary pause on his stewing. there’s only one person that could be knocking on his door at this hour, and steve isn’t sure he’s ready to face him yet. but then there’s another knock, this one more insistent, and steve grunts as he shoves himself off the couch. he tosses his cold takeout onto the coffee table, forgotten.

“can we talk?” billy asks, the moment steve swings open the door.

steve just stares at him for a long moment, trying to get a read on his expression. billy just looks jittery and nervous, chewing on his lip and wringing his hands. steve can’t get anything more from him than that. so he steps aside, letting billy brush past him into the house.

“she doesn’t mean anything,” billy blurts, just after steve shuts the door. “sherry, i mean. she’s just- i can explain.”

“do i even want to know?” steve asks, folding his arms across his chest. he tries not to look too broken-hearted, not wanting to give billy the satisfaction.

“neil, he... i was trying to come see you today,” billy starts, shoving a hand through his hair. “heather was at the pool and she said you took keith’s shift. neil asked where i was going, and i... i fuckin’ told him the truth. i didn’t think he’d get suspicious over me going to pick up a few movies.”

an uneasy feeling starts to blossom in steve’s gut, not liking where this is going. “what’d he say?”

“that i didn’t- i don’t need to be looking like some faggot going to see the video store boy every other day,” billy says, sighing. “i had to lie. tell him i was getting a video for me and a girl. for a date. and he- he told me to call her. to bring her over for lunch and prove it.”

“why not just call heather though? i’m sure she would’ve been more than happy to help out,” steve says, his brows coming together in confusion.

billy moves to sink down onto the stairs, looking pointedly at his feet. “she had a church thing with her family or some shit. sherry was just- we were okay friends before we graduated. i figured she wouldn’t ask too many questions if i suddenly asked her out.

“steve, i swear to god,” billy continues, pressing his eyes with the heels of his palms, “i was just gonna do the fuckin’ lunch and be done with it. but he insisted on a movie. took us to get it and sat on the fuckin’ couch. watched it with us, too. at one point i thought he was gonna make us strip and walk us through how to fuck.”

steve makes a face. because, okay, he wouldn’t put any of that past neil. the guy is a fucking tool, and a creep. if steve has his way, neil would be rotting in jail cell by now.

but it’s not his life. he can’t make those decisions for billy.

steve sinks down onto the stairs next to billy, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “i thought... i thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore. didn’t want to be with me.”

“steve,” billy starts, then pauses. he doesn’t look at steve, but he takes one of his hands, squeezing it tightly. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you. i want out of here, away from him, with you. i just- i don’t know how to do that yet.”

putting an arm around billy, steve pulls him tightly against him, letting billy bury his face into his shoulder.

“we’ll figure it out,” steve promises, resting his chin on top of billy’s head. “together. ‘m sorry i thought you were- y’know. running off with someone else.”

billy just sits up a little, before pulling steve in for a gentle kiss. it’s nothing heated or frenzied, just a soft press of lips that has steve tingling all the way down to his toes.

“just promise me we never have to watch teen wolf again,” billy says when they break apart, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

steve can’t help but laugh, standing and pulling billy up from the stairs, tugging him towards the living room. ready to put on his rocky box set and help his boyfriend forget about this hell day, just for a little while.

“you got it, sweetheart.”

[anemonenemerosa]

The Spare- Chapter 13

Hello fellow people, I’m sorry for the delay (The chapter has been posted on AO3 for ages and I don’t know what took me so long)

Credit for the Sweater-verse goes to the wonderful @lumosinlove​

Chapter 13

TW: Violence, a bit of blood, forced outing, abusive families

In calls and texts: Reg is normal Ben is bold-italic Mateo is italic Jo is bold

When Reg got from the airport to the hotel to change into his suit, he learned that his mother had, indeed, tricked him again. The contacts on his phone were mostly deleted and he had to share a room with Severus, who was less than thrilled at the prospect.

"I have to share a room with you to make sure you stay mommies little boy! Rookie, I tell you, get close to that faggot and I rip you apart. I'm not getting shit from Riddle or your mother because you don't stay at the sight side." He growled at Reg and combined with the cold glare of his deep-set eyes, Reg was convinced that he could -and would- actually do that.

"Your mother will be here tomorrow to have a look herself." They had him... he could not escape... his happy family idea was gone; The universe had hit back. He thought of losing his Hobbits, as he named Jo, Ben and Mateo and it pained him too much to let it dwell. Reg closed his eyes with a sigh and a resigned nod.

Of course, they had to arrive at that damn Red Carpet together with Sirius and Tremblay. Walking behind Sirius was bad, walking there with Severus eyeing his every movement was worse but the worst was when Reg saw the look on Sirius' face. Tired, lonely, hurt. He heard bits of the questions his brother was asked and hurt with him. Hockey is about hockey, not what a player does in his spare time.

And there was nothing he could do. He had to re-watch the introduction with a proudly sniggering Severus four times this evening without a chance to sneak out and find Sirius. Reg considered drowning himself in the bathtub. He really ruined it for his brother ...and Remus. That poor guy who had probably lived a peaceful live until now, that he was accused of fucking his way up. What Regulus heard on the phone that dreadful night did not sound like he took advantage of his brother's fame.

The next morning, he briefly met his mother, who dismissed him curtly, her eyes scanning the players for his brother.

"Regulus, do what you are told. No missteps! You really thought I would let you roam freely, disgracing the name of Black even more?" her long nails were digging though his armour, her voice calm but freezingly cold. They would not let him go and stay with Ben and Mateo. He was stuck with his actual family. Although completely unhelpful, Regulus felt the abandonment by Sirius cut in his chest. He left me with them... he knew how they were, even then.

But determined as always, he tried to help Sirius. He came here to talk to him, to -hopefully- mend fences and become brothers again.

How do I even get to him secretly? Regulus was still finalising his tactic as he noticed Severus and his mother glaring daggers at Sirius, looking much better than yesterday and signing stuff for people covered in rainbow-flags. He made an uncommonly rash decision.

Regulus quickly skated over to his brother, almost knocking him over and tried to warn him without being obvious. If he looked angry, he could play it off as scolding, if his mother inquired. But Sirius didn't understand that he tried to warn him, not to berate him. Reg allowed himself his internal eye-roll as he had nothing else going for him. Connard stupide.

That damn Tremblay wouldn't go away either and there was not much he could explain without him overhearing. Il est trop relou. He's annoying.

And before Regulus had conveyed the, rather important, message that their mother was coming for him, Snape called him over. After the skills-competitions, which he lost (much to the disdain and disappointment of his mother), he was ushered into the hotel room, petulantly supervised by Severus until the next day.

During the games, Snape couldn't hover around him and Regulus was paired to play with Sirius. He was not sure whether he should be glad or upset about this. He missed his few days of peace with his Hobbits, missed the easy conversations with Jo, missed being Reg.

Regulus felt miserable. Sirius had made it clear that he did not want him anymore and he dreaded going back to the prison that was his life. He rubbed over the butterfly stitches, closing the cut at his thigh and somewhat cursed meeting Ben at all. Without him, he wouldn't have known how lousy his life actually was. He was not in the mood anymore to get through to Sirius although the All-Star people all but shoved him into his face. He wanted to be left alone.

That was, until Sirius spoke, really spoke to him. Made clear that he did not hate Regulus, called him Reg, told him that he would help him get out if he wanted to.

His thoughts were twirling in his brain. There was a rapid shift in their estranged relationship, one that Reg loved. But they hadn't talked about the outing-thing and he grew more and more terrified of losing it all over again when he opened up. But Sirius seemed quite happy with the prospect of sorting things out. Alors, because he has no idea of the shit-show on the horizon.

Reg was happy, too. His brother really stayed with him. He did not go after the interviews, where he found the courage to openly support his brother, not just quietly in his mind.  But he was also scared out of said mind by the prospect of returning to Slytherin, especially after that public statement.

Sirius turned to him. “Come back to Gryffindor with me. Minnie got you a seat with me and Logan. Tomorrow.”

There was an out? Relieve beyond belief soared though Reg as his brother pulled him into a hug. They hadn't done that in years. But the embrace triggered a chain of thoughts that yanked him out of his comfort. Ben. He thought there was an out before, but Ben and Mateo were not in the position to really help him, as much as they wanted to. Sirius, on the other hand had quite a bit of leverage.

Reg felt ungrateful.

That weird guy who found him bleeding and crying in the shower, hugged him, took him home and just made him part of the family in three days.

 "You know what, I’m your mom now!”

 “I’m talking now as your fried -or co-mom, apparently..."

Both, Ben and Mateo said that after Reg confessed what he had done. Even then, they wanted him to be there, to stay with them. He wanted to be with them, too but not with everything else waiting in Slytherin. His throat was tight. Reg wanted both. He wanted to keep this new-found people and be with his brother. And he felt like shit for assuming Sirius gave him a better chance for an escape.

But Reg and Sirius hadn’t talked yet. His brother new nothing. Would he still be so inclined to take Reg with him if he knew who turned his life inside-out? He needed to talk to him before they boarded the plane. And he needed to talk to Ben and Mateo. And Jo. Wonderful, funny Jo, who was open, honest and kind. Who cared for him and liked him as person, not as hockey player. And Jo, who he would probably leave behind just like Ben and Mateo for his brother. If Sirius still wanted him.

The fear of losing so much nearly overwhelmed him. He needed an out.

“Okay,” Regulus said into Sirius’ neck, voice thick. “Okay."

They would meet at Sirius room in about an hour. Time for Reg to sneak into his own room and gather his things, hopefully without running into Severus.

Thank all the deities whose existence I doubt that Severus is anywhere but in there. Reg thought relieved after closing the door behind him. He felt a bit calmer now that he made a plan. He would call the Hobbits from a telephone booth he saw on his way (Apparently, they still existed).

A small piece of paper with the number was shoved into his pocket by Mateo before he went to the airport in Slytherin.

"Just in case."

                                                       oOo

"Hello?"

"Ben?"

"Reg? Hi! Is everything OK? What kind of number is this?"

"We watched All Star all day, you did great!!!"  Jo's voice drifted in from the off

"Erm... yes, well... um...I call from a telephone booth and I- I kind of need to talk to you guys."

"Okaay... I didn't know these things still exist. Anyway, do you want me to put you on speaker?"

"OK." Reg felt so nervous, his voice was tight, his gut clenched.

 "Hello there, Reg! What's up?" Mateo.

"Erm..." The Reg of question had no idea how to approach the issue, but time was pressing.

"Come on, it's us. What's bothering you?"

"I- I talked to Sirius and he wants to take me with him home but he doesn't know it's all my fault and Maman will not let me stay with you she will find a way and if I don't leave with Sirius I might never get out of there but I do not want to leave you guys and I do not want to be ungrateful but I feel like this but I really want out of there but maybe Sirius doesn't want be with him once he finds out and please don't hate me." Once the floodgates opened it all came out in a stumbled, confused word-vomit.

Smooth and collected.

"Whoa, whoa Okay. Keep calm, everything's okay. Just let us go through that one at a time. Do you have enough coins?"

"Yes." He choked out.

“Good. So, we try to repeat to what you have told me in some kind of order, and you tell me if we got that right, OK?”

"OK."

"You talked to your brother and he wants to help you out of your abusive situation. You think that he can really help you, but you are afraid he doesn't what once he learns how he got outed, right?"

Reg couldn't answer. That was on point. Instead, he let out a deep sigh. "Mhm."

"Okay. Well, we do not know Sirius. So, we don't know how he might react but at least on the screen he seemed to be getting more confident with this. Talk to him. I'm sure he sees that, while you accidentally started the whole thing, the reaction of the people is not your fault."

"But-" Reg all but choked out. He was so fucking afraid. “But what if not?”

"I know. Maybe you have to trust him a little there."

"I- I try. There is not much else I can do anyway, is there?" A bitter laugh escaped his lips.

"Well, you could also come back to us. I know you said your mother wouldn't let you." Ben said quickly before Reg could tell him exactly that.

"But if everything else fails, rebook your flight to another time and we get you directly from the airport. Please keep that in mind. Our door is open for you. We're your moms, after all."

"None of us is mad because you want to get out. We want you to get out, too. You are not ungrateful. It's not that you walk out on us or anything."

"Also, phones and stuff exist, obviously. Or did you plan to say goodbye now and never call again?"

Jo hadn't said anything so far and Reg ached with the slight insecurity in her voice. But then all the other things they said seeped through his mind, followed by warmth. They did not hate him; They were not angry. He hadn't messed up, so far.

"I- No. No, this is not a goodbye. I just wanted to talk to you, let you know what changed."

"And that was very nice of you, my son. Now, better go and talk to Sirius, yeah? And please give us a short call or send a message later. So that we know whether we have to kidnap you on Slytherin airport, or not." Ben sounded like he was joking but practically ushered him from the phone.

For the last five minutes, any unsuspecting hotel guest on floor three would have had the opportunity to observe one Regulus Black attempting to knock on a door and failing repeatedly.

Alors, Regulus Arcturus Black. Where are your metaphorical balls? Knock on that fucking door already!

The moment he did, he regretted it a little. Sirius flung the door open, phone at his ear, grinning.  Hey. He mouthed and jerked his head to beckon Reg inside. Once the door was closed, Sirius looked at him again, still grinning and gesturing at his phone. Remus. Want to say hi?

Reg was very sure that he did not want to say hi. He still dreaded the wrath of both of them and shook his head no, looking pained.

                                                      oOo

Looking at the frantic shaking head of his brother, Sirius felt his stomach knot. What if he's not as accepting as he told the media? Does he hate me after all?

After saying goodbye to Remus and hanging up, there were a few eternities of awkward silence. They hadn't been alone in a room together since... a long time ago.

"Alors... Reg, erm" Sirius switched to French now. It felt more comfortable, like they were children again. "Would you like to tell me about what ha-"

"I'd rather not talk about that right now." Reg fidgeted nervously at the frayed cuffs of his sweater.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure." His brother looked like he'd rather just go to bed and never talk again but Sirius really had to ask before taking him to Gryffindor.

"Did you mean it? You really support me?"

"What do you mean?" Reg just glanced up from intensely memorising the pattern of the carpet.

"I suppose you followed twitter" At his dry tone, an eyebrow of Reg moved upwards.

"Yes, I did... But who you spend your free-time with and what you choose to do with them is indifferent to your hockey play."

"Warm words as always, loving brother."  Now, the second eyebrow followed.

"Okay well, fuck you! You left me there, with our parents expecting me to outdo your every move! I know they are horrible, but you went and got better without me. You promised, to always be my brother, to be there for me. And then, you weren't. You abandoned me! Do you know how much I envied you for having friends, a team that supports you and genuinely likes you as a person, not just your play?”

"Reg..." Sirius tried to reach out to his brother, but Reg backed away.

"S-Sorry, that's not what I came here for. I wanted to tell you..." but the sentence just trailed off into tense silence.

"What is it?"

"I..."

"Come on, spit it out"

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry about the situation."

"For what? Me being gay?" baffled, Sirius could only stare at his brother.

"No... for getting you into that situation... I did not want to hurt you or Remus"

"Well- Wait what?" Something awful was dawning in Sirius mind.

"I overheard your call on thanksgiving, you weren't exactly quiet... and please believe me I did not want this to happen... I-" Sirius felt suddenly cold all over.

"What. Did. You. Do?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"It was at the Snake's Christmas... I- I was so lonely because of that Interview I was basically grounded and under constant observation... and I thought you hated me after that and... and I didn't want to - it just kinda slipped. I thought they all were too drunk to notice but-"

"Regulus." Crashing headfirst into the boards was pleasant compared to what Sirius felt right now. "Really I'm so-" Reg stammered, voice thick and eyes fixed on his shoes.

And next Sirius' fist crashed into his brother's face, sending him to the floor.

Sirius took a few ragged breaths, ready to succumb into a fit of rage but looking into his brother's face, almost a mirror of his own, eyes wide and blood tickling from his nose, not even trying to defend himself, he realised that this was not Regs fault… Sirius knew how their parents could get, knew the Snakes, knew that feeling of loneliness from when he was that young. His brother did not want to harm him but most importantly, it was not Regs fault how the public reacted and that he run away from Remus at the airport… Long ago, he promised himself to never hurt his baby brother, to protect him…. Sirius eyes welled up as he yanked him off the floor and pressed him to his chest. I'm sorry. Je suis désolé, je suis désolé... I'm sorry... I left you there, all alone... I'm sorry...

Regulus looked up into his face, tears streaking his face, too while both realised that although there is so much work to do between them after hall they lived through and did to each other, that they still have each other.

                                                         oOo

"Do you love him?" The brothers were sitting opposite each other on Sirius' bed, legs stretched out between them, both a cup of tea in their hands, Reg still pressing a tissue to his nose. Sirius was telling Reg about the general situation in Gryffindor.

"Yes", Sirius didn't even hesitate for a heartbeat.

"Have you actually put in the effort to tell him?" He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his legs.

"Reg, stop smart-assing."

"I see." Reg smirked a bit, " Then maybe, you know, mention it sometime. Or is he psychic?"

"You are a git."

"You like me."

"I ldo" Sirius snorted. " but I am still mad at you."

"As you have every right to be."

"Reg, ...why did you not speak to me first?"

"You mean because talking about feelings was exactly the sole centre of our upbringing?"

"You are not helping your cause."

"Je le sais. Je suis désolé mon frère... je suis sérieux." I know. I'm sorry... I really am.

                                                        oOo

After a few beats of a little more comfortable silence, a sudden reminder pinged through Reg's thoughts.

"Oh. I almost forgot. Can I take your phone to send a text? Mine is still spied at." He piped up rather automatically, then saw his brother's eyes narrow.

"Who would you want to text?"

"Erm..." Reg felt his cheeks heat, no idea how to explain this fever-dream-situation but the raised eyebrow with the expectant look on Sirius' face made him spill something. Reg thought it was a rather messily told story, but his brother seemed to follow.

"So, you had a meltdown after the tweed outing me and ...the guy that, cleans the stadium put you back together, had you checked by his EMP boyfriend and then took you home with the boyfriend to ...feed you soup and hug you good-night after telling you their life-stories?

"Yes."

"And then you came back to them two days later and told them about our family and they just offered you to live with them and -and announced themselves your mom and co-mom, while you refer to them as the Hobbits because they are short and friendy?"

"Yes."

"You are aware of just how absurd that sounds?"

"Mhm." Reg was gnawing at his bottom lip. He had not mentioned Jo so far. This was odd enough already.

"Just checking... Well, then go on." Sirius threw his phone across the bed, thinking of how lucky Reg got with these people but also looking for a catch.

This is Sirius' phone. I survived and will accompany him to Gryffindor tomorrow. Hugs, Reg. he quickly typed the message and sent it on its way.

When he woke up the next morning, around five, he found himself curled up on his side, head at the foot of the bed. Lifting said head, he caught a sight of his brother, mirroring his position so that their calves were at the back of the other.

"Just as we used to." He mumbled before carefully getting up and heading for the bathroom, getting ready for his flight.

[wormmomma]

tyler, the creator: the very queer discography review!!!

Im bored of writing overly long threads on twitter so i wrote a look at tyler the creators discography and why hes gay and im gay and deserved to have his dick immortalized in gold when he dies. So tyler gregory okanma is a black man born in ladera heights california. He’s also my third favorite rapper and since he discovered my favorite rapper earl sweatshirt I guess he deserves goat status for that shit too. Tyler started his career around 17 years old as the ace the creator. He did features at the time with casey veggies and the inspirations in his flow to mf doom where already apparent even back then. From ace the creator mixtape you can already hear the very digital and jazz inspired pharrell production. Funny story if you look up any of his ace stuff now you'll mostly find some really old production that in the age of tyler the creator type beats doesn't really hold u all that great. From there Tyler went on to create odd futures and his first album bastard. He quite quickly followed up bastard with godlin. Goblin, bastard, and the OF tape vol.1 all feel pretty interconnected so im gonna speed round from worst to best. So odd future tape volume one is fun and punk and really crass, it's also completely eclipsed by odd futures other releases. I love odd future and the collective's ability too be both edgy teen skate rap garbage, and a risky artistic rap collective all at the same time. In odd future's first tape it seems pretty clear that tylers description of the groups early work as a bunch of niggas joking around in a studio is very apparent for better or worse. If you wanna get high with some friends can listen to some funny edgy and downright grimey tracks over left brains booking production skip this and listen to odd future's next mixtape but come back here to listen to some funny skits and a few proto mellowhype track with domo genesis. Goblin is Tyler's attempt to do a bigger darker more sprawling version of bastard but misses the mark. I like the album and I love singles on the album. Goblin the opening track is amazing and is a great look at tylers mental state attempting to live up to his newfound fame and anxiety about his infamy. I love yonkers and tron cat. Tyler says alot at this time that he doesn't make horrorcore and he's correct but the lack of emotional honesty and his immature deflections is really going off on all cylinders. If you dont wanna hear skits like “my bitch suck dick” and lines like “im not homophobic faggot” i would probably call it his worst album. Before i talk about bastard id like to go over his use of slurs and rape in his work. Tylers consistent lyrics about violence towards women and use of the lgbtq community really don't insult me. I feel like his lyrical content is filled with a clear look of how angry and insecure tyler was about not having a father or any way of processing his angst. Did he have to sound like a incel threatening to stalk and murder women who refuse to love him for over 3 albums? No, but i really enjoy looking at his early music. He doesn't shy away from how angry, sad and desperate he was at the time. That synthesis of need for fatherly love, anger from a lack of it and deteriorating mental state honestly makes the content more palatable. Also as a black trans women id rather hear tranny an faggot bars from a male rapper making intreeating music. Tyler at the time was being honest, angry and vulnerable not like eminem and action bronson who spit these bars with all the same rap bravado and violent anger toward women with zero pathos. Bastard is amazing, it's an intimate dark album. At the time it felt like it was tapping right into where I was at the time. The amount of mental anguish on bastards opening track really hit me. I was an angry kid with a lot of angst and bipolar disease so hearing a rapper yell about that same dysfunction really meant alot to me. The flows are amazing and it was a really good look at tylers ability to build a narrative. Wolf was tyler's next album. For a while wolf was my favorite album by tyler. His look at relationships and breakups on bimmer and ifhy are amazing and are expanded on his future releases. Find your wings and treehome are also a good look at his more melodic influence. It was such a good album I actually bought the mrech for and went to see Tyler at afropunk. Also hearing an entire song about the death of his grandma really hit me, my grandfather died around the same time. Cherry bomb was bad, now moving one. Ok im  joking i've listened to it two or three times but its really not worth going back to even though tyler put his all into it. The soul features and amazing production is worth listening to but even Tyler admits he rushed the album a little and that he needed to blow people away next time. Flower boy, is one of the most important albums in hip hop. That's it. Bar none. It was my favorite release of 2018. Flower boy is about tylers newfound isolation with his fame, and how he drives cars by himself in beautiful la vistas. Its also about how he’s gay (or bisexual). There are ALOT of stupid takes on this album. There is a contingency of tyler stans that think tyler has been “playing a character” since bastard. Now I'll admit that wolf haley and dr.teecee are clearly characters; they are also artists' representations of tyler's mental state. If wolf haley has adhd and no father that means tyler also has those issues. So whether or not Tyler is playing a character he has in fact “been kissing white boys since 2004”. I also have seen an insipid article that asks if “tyler the creator should be accepted into the lgbtq community” due to his homophobia? Much more controversial and actually homophobic and transphobic people are in this community hes tyler the creator, not milo yinnaoplous. I also dont think that it occurs to the reviewer that alot of gay men are very hmophobic before they come out and that self hate is very common. Lyrics like “im not gay i just wanna dance to some marvin” also has a much deeper context now. Listening to older releases you can see how in your face tyler was about his queerness. He even said he filmed himself kissing his friend Lucas to prove he wasn't a homophobe. I'm happy Tyler grew enough to make an album not only about being attracted to men but how lonely he felt in and out of the closet. As someone who came out as bisexual at the time it came at a perfect time. Being  gay is isolating and confusing and when you do you lose alot of friends and family. Garden shed, who dat boy, and 911 are real standouts. His collaboration with kali uchis was also so fucking smooth and she a born r&b star. Tyler gained a grammy nomination off the album and said he loved the feeling of finally making popular catchy music people wanna sing the lyrics too, so he followed it with igor. Igor opens with this addendum on the back of the physical album: 

This might be fiction, this might be about igor but it is fully about tyler okanga. The album is very hard to parse and barely has any rapping. It's more of a pop experimental album with a lot of lofi synth production. Tylers production chops are full force here. Igor is melodic, sad and full of the same anger and obsession from his previous albums. Its just more mature and really gay, and i fucking love it. Tyler was dealing with a tumultuous relationship with a guy and his refusal to be with tyler exclusively. Its about a breakup. A love tragedy that only becomes more depressing after the argument on a boy is a gun, the breakup in my love is gone, and the sad slump back into needing closure in can we be friends. The album is fun to sing to, and fucking devestating. I've dealt with a lot of similar issues with love and obsession so to hear it so clearly illustrated on igor really hit me. I think the album becomes even more depressing with the unreleased track best interest, about tyler being a side nigga. This is the kind of music that's sometimes made in r&b and pop but never in rap. There was an interview where Tyler says he hated his voice which is why he edits it so evident on igor. Tyler also said he wanted to send these songs to rihanna and Justin Beiber but they didn't want them, as cool as it sounds. I'm happy tyler was able to tell his own story. I would also recommend magic wand since it's my favorite track on the album and kicks you in the face with how angry and heartbroken Tyler was at the time. 

Tyler is an artist that talks and speaks about how he feels all the time, he's also a person who feels enigmatic and mysterious somehow. I think it has to do with how constantly he's put to the side of his other hip hop contemporaries. He always seems to be making music Tom weird, controversial and experimental to be treated like asap rocky, vince staples, or the late mac miller. A fact that feels ironic since he worked with all of those artists, lil wayne, and even kanye west. I'm as big a stan for tyler as he is for Pharrell, if it wherent forever I'd never take rap seriously and would never have chosen to make my own music. As a black trans woman I find a lot of tylers work really relatable. I've been in alot of the angry hopeless situations Tyler talks about in his music. I think he's the artist who hits me the most on a personal level and yeah when i was depressed i sat in my bedroom and listened to bastard in my low moments. I like riding in the car and listening to all of flowerboy. Igor is amazing as well for almost half a decade it's been amazing growing up and hitting the same emotional beats Tyler went through5 in his work. Hearing about him coming out as gay ajd dealing with very similar backlash mad me feel less alone if im being honest. Tyler has said he wants to take a more production heavy role in the industry moving forward but he says that a lot, i think as long as he has a story to tell he's always going to make music. His music feels like a diary and I'm happy to read it and sonnet to it in all its beauty and ugliness. 

Hi my name is lua o'reilly i make music on soundcloud.com/wormmother

If you liked this review let me know and I'll do a look into earl sweatshirt.

[richiethedicktozier]

|| in a combination of many prompts, i present: great best friend eddie kaspbrak helping upset (and secretly pining) richie tozier post- arcade assault. ||

What could Richie say, going home that afternoon?

Hey Mom. Hey Dad. I got called a fa-- this new word today. Yeah, I’ve heard it before but hearing it as my name sounds different. It feels different.

How about to his friends?

I know we aren’t exactly talking right now, but Bowers just fucking ran into me at the arcade and-- hey! shut up and listen-- GUYS! He asked if I was trying to bone his cousin.

What about himself?

God what a fucking idiot, you looked too long. The way you looked at him. The way you touched his hand. You should have let him go. He’s not your friend. He’s not your friend. He’s not like you, not a disgusting and worthless loser with a perverted secret. What a fucking trashmouth. Filthy mouth thinking and saying filthy things...

One thing Richie never prepared for, was having to tell Eddie. Just Eddie, alone on his front steps. Granted, he didn’t have to tell him anything, but with Eddie it was like Richie’s already running mouth suddenly would attempt a marathon.

“Why are you sitting still? Are you dead or something?” Eddie laughed, already walking up the pathway to Richie’s house. Richie gave him the finger, his words still strangled in the back of his throat. It burned like he was still trying to run. “Most of us are at the clubhouse, maybe going to the quarry later. Why are you here? You hate being at home.”

“Tired.” Richie muttered, adjusting his glasses. “Long afternoon.”

“It’s fucking two.”

“Yeah.”

“Richie, what the fuck? Are you high or something?” Eddie reached up and shoved Richie’s head down, moving his glasses again. “Did you smoke in your house?”

Richie wished he was high, or something to make the harsh air hissing in his lungs feel more like a pillow than a brick blanket.

“No, fuckface. I didn’t. You think Wentworth is at least an iota of cool to fucking smoke?” Richie snapped, pushing Eddie’s hands away. “I’m just sitting.”

“That’s stupid. Sit in the clubhouse with us.” Eddie laughed, grabbing his wrists. Richie refused and Eddie’s grip soon slipped into Richie’s hands.

We don’t like our town being filled with a bunch of fucking fa--

“I’m not going! Just shove it, Eds. I want to sit here.” Richie yelled, yanking his arms back. Their hands pulled apart with a snap, their fingers clinging together.

Eddie blinked at him. “We have a hammock.” He said plainly. “Sit in it with me. Come on, Rich. What the fuck.”

“I said no!” Richie shouted. It was the only thing he could openly deny with Eddie. Everything else was involuntary-- the sweating, the blushing, the need to make him laugh, the need to annoy him, the need to see him-- the least Richie could do was push away those things he could control. Give himself a half a chance to be normal.

Eddie moved Richie’s legs and sat on the step below him. He placed his arms on Richie’s knees, looking up at him the way Richie always imagined people in love did. He nudged his glasses and blurred his vision.

“What happened today?” Eddie was asking like a parent-- or maybe a concerned girlfriend or something. Well no, he was asking like Eddie. Like a great friend, a companion.

A boyfriend, really.

No. No. No. No. No.

"I got run down by Bowers today.” Richie sighed, looking at his hands. “Chased me all the way to the park.”

“Oh fuck-- Why did he do that? I mean, not that the bastard ever has a good reason to do any of his boneheaded bullshit, but where were you when he found you?” Eddie was asking because he was concerned, but Richie began to hear his father’s echo in his voice. Asking what he was doing, where he was going, what did he say to ask for the bullying.

“Just the arcade.”

“Oh.” Eddie groaned. “Fuck that guy. He’s so fucking stupid-- looks a like a weasel, have you ever noticed that? He’s got that really like thin fucking face that just--”

“He called me a faggot.” Richie said, point-blank.

Eddie’s words died, his mouth hanging open as if new ones would just appear. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Richie thought by that point he’d be crying-- like a fucking girl-- but instead, he was just cold. His throat was stale and his tongue was heavy. The truth was the truth, huh?

“Wanna get ice cream?” Eddie said suddenly, sitting back. “Come on, I got a crisp ten that’s got a double scoop of gross ass mint-chocolate chip with your name all over it, Rich.”

“No, I don’t know if--”

“I just offered to buy you ice cream that is easily the grossest flavor. You don’t get to argue! Just fucking get up and grab your bike.” Eddie grabbed Richie’s hands again and yanked him up.

They both nearly toppled over; the taller one of them shouldn’t have been on the higher step. Richie clung to Eddie’s hands and stumbled down the walkway. Even after telling Eddie the truth, he hadn’t tried to avoid touching him-- his hands.

“W-Wait, where’s your bike?” Richie asked, pulling away and wiping his palms on his shorts.

“I walked. We live like, a few blocks apart.”

“Yeah but we’re going downtown.”

“Yeah.”

“Where is your bike?”

“Richie.” Eddie laughed, and pointed at Richie’s bike on its side in the grass. “You have pegs.”

“You’re gonna ride on my bike. With me?” Richie tried to sound possessive. Of the bike, that is.

“Yeah, come on. Don’t be so w--” Eddie stopped and chewed his lip. Don’t be weird. Richie had no say in it; he’d tried. “Don’t be scared-- I’m not gonna die or anything. We won’t tell my mom.”

“Okay. Sure.” Richie said. Oh, this was a bad idea.

And it sure fucking was. Richie sat on the seat while Eddie stood behind him, arms bracing on his shoulders. He called out into the summer wind, laughing and jostling Richie to try and get him to join. He focused on the road and got them to the ice cream shop in one piece-- two pieces, technically. Two separate boys. Not at all conjoined or comparable to any one, unified person or feeling.

Eddie hopped off Richie’s bike the moment he stopped. The shop had a walk-thru window-- for anyone stupid enough to not want to go into crisp air-conditioning. Which was, of course, both Richie and Eddie. They hated going inside the parlor; large masses of sweaty people covered in sticky syrup and loudly crunching on cones? Richie could already feel Eddie’s skin crawling. Birthplace of food borne, close-contact illnesses.

Eddie ordered as Richie waited by a streetlight, balancing himself and the bike against it. It was still strange-- and maybe a move of pity-- that Eddie was buying him ice cream after he’d admitted the worst thing about himself. With absolutely no denial. Even if it meant that Eddie knew that Richie was gay now, he still only took his word for it after hearing that Bowers had called it out in the middle of arcade.

God. He was disgusting.

“Alright, here we go! One fucking gross double scoop of mint chocolate chip. You know, that’s another reason you’re a trashmouth-- you’ll eat just about anything, huh? Mint? Dude, that’s like eating toothpaste.”

"Hey, at least I can handle a little variety! You only eat vanilla!” Richie laughed, taking the cone from Eddie carefully. “Are you allergic to fucking fun, Eds?”

“Hey! It’s arguably the best flavor!”

“Is fucking not. It’s like eating nothing! It’s flavorless. The base of all other ice creams. It’s like eating ice cream primer.”

“When is the last time you had vanilla?” Eddie said, crossing his free arm over his chest. “I think you need a goddamn refresh, asshole.”

He held the cone out to Richie, eyebrows raised. Richie could see the small dip in the top swirl where he’d already licked.

“No.” Richie said, pushing it away. “I’m not licking your-- not sharing your ice cream, dude. That’s gross. I don’t know where that mouth has been.”

“Says the trashmouth.” Eddie retorted, grabbing the handlebar of Richie’s bike as he wobbled. Richie was trying, by all means, to not drop the cone and speed away. It wouldn’t have escaped any of the things swelling inside of his chest, but at least he could die in solitude.

“Would you just fucking try some?”

“No.”

“Rich, come on. If I’m asking you to share my food, I think it’s okay! I know you don’t have fucking weird diseases-- and I sure as fuck don’t. Just fucking have some.”

“No. I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Eddie echoed Richie with a laugh, but his smile fell. “Richie, come on. You can.”

“No. I-- I think I should get home or something. Wentworth is having a really big hard-on for curfew lately so--”

“You don’t have a curfew.”

“I-- I could.”

“You’ve walked out your front door at eleven at night to go swimming in the quarry with us before.” Eddie said, licking the top of his ice cream again. Richie did the same as if only to try and keep himself from sounding like more of an idiot. “Richie, man, what the fuck is going on? Is everything alright?”

They were on the sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon, any number of eyes possibly staring at them and measuring their distance, watching their expressions, reading their lips. There was nothing Richie could say there. Nothing he would want to.

"Are you deaf? I said that I’m fine.” Richie said, nearly grinding his teeth.

“I’m not blind either!” Eddie said, gesticulating his cone around. “You look like shit.”

Oh, well that was good to hear coming from Eddie. He already knew he was ugly-- that he’d “grow into his looks”, whatever the fuck that meant-- but now he had confirmation that no matter how much “beauty was subjective” or whatever, Eddie thought he looked like shit. Great. Amazing. Fantastic. Best thing he’d heard all fucking--

“I mean like. You don’t look like yourself. Your face is like, gray, man. Like, completely gray. Wiped and exhausted. Is everything alright-- besides the Bowers stuff.” Eddie said.

“Can’t it just be the Bowers stuff?” That was all Richie could hear. Over and over and over and--

A blink. A pause. The acceptance of a secret. “’course it can. Yeah. It can just be him. I mean, the guy’s a total fucking dickwad-- doesn’t fucking know anything.”

“Right? What a douche.”

“A fucking shitpile.”

Richie laughed and it hurt, but in the best way. It was the shattering of something old that had formed. Something he didn’t know had built up. He hadn’t said anything-- hadn’t incriminated himself in any way-- but he was no longer alone. He was safe, but he could still be so with his best friend. It could count as lying if Richie really looked at it closely-- but he didn’t want to. He closed his eyes and breathed slow, trying to pretend he was stopping his laughter rather than any possible tears.

“Wanna go home? Go to the clubhouse?”

“What so you can get spiders in your ice cream?”

"Fuck you.” Eddie said, hitching his leg over the back of Richie’s bike. He wrapped his one arm across Richie’s chest and kept the other at length, ice cream unable to drip on either of them. He rested his chin on Richie’s shoulder. “They probably all went to the quarry by now, so we can just sit-- talk if you want.”

Richie’s feet were on the pedals but he was frozen, nearly toppling them over. “O-Okay.”

“I mean, we don’t have to-- it can be about whatever. Like when you’re gonna get a fucking haircut.” Eddie laughed, spitting out some of Richie’s hair that had curled into his mouth. “Hell, I’ll fucking cut it myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” You wouldn’t dare touch me like that-- be so close on your own.

“Snip snip, Richie.” Eddie teased, clapping a hand on his chest. “Come on, let’s go before your Colgate Cone melts down your hand, shithead.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, dickwad.”

“If you don’t start pedaling, I’m going to nose you with this cone.” Eddie teased, faking- out nearly smashing the cone onto Richie’s face. Instead, he reached across Richie’s chest with the arm and licked the cone. It grazed his face, getting a sticky stripe on his cheek and a bit in his hair.

“You’re so bossy when you’re on a sugar high.” Richie said, settling further on the end of his seat, letting Eddie sit on the back.

Richie started pedaling, trying to get out of sight of the sidewalk as quickly as he could. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide his smile, but didn’t want anyone to catch him with it-- catch him with Eddie, resting his head against Richie’s.

This time, he wasn’t doing anything. He was just biking when Eddie grabbed him, comforted him. Richie hadn’t done anything wrong, and he could feel the thinnest ray of warmth-- of that summer sun and wind-- cracking through his chest. He could finally breathe.

Bowers was probably right; Richie was exactly what he said he was. But, biking across town to the clubhouse, it was maybe the first time that Richie had ever felt okay about it. Felt good. Felt even the tiniest, vanilla-spotted bit of happiness for it. Maybe Bowers was right, but being there-- being with Eddie and letting himself lean against the comfort of someone safe and silly and sweet-- was too.

[fan-with-issues]

You're My Home Sweet Home. (Nikki x Tommy)

Requested by @saint-of-los-angeles 💖

(Sorry this took way longer then it should have)

Also shout out to @triplehaitches & @malibubarbievince for helping me and giving me ideas on this, I owe you guys one :)

(Warning: homophobic slurs)

~

The 1980s, the worst fucking decade in human history. preppies and keyboards, stupid haircuts, jazzercise and “Just Say No”, it all fucking sucked. So what do you do when you’re born in the wrong timeline?

You make it yours.

And that’s what we did to the Sunset Strip. people flooded the streets trying to get in to the world's famous Whiskey a Go Go and inside was where the party was at. Strippers dancing around the pole some of them half naked, people making out with others they probably just met, and the rest drinking like it’s the end of the world. And that’s what I was doing at this very moment, chasing down the end of the bottle of my fourth Jack Daniels.  

Vince was nowhere to be seen, probably getting head by some random chick in the bathroom. Mick went home early, and Tommy was sitting at a booth with groupies surrounding him, and that’s what really ticked me off. One groupie kept caresing her fingers on his chest and I swear it took every fiber in me to not grab him and drag him out to an ally and make him scream like there’s no tomorrow.

But here I am, drinking my feelings I have for him away like I do with the rest of my problems. I have no idea when I started having feelings for him but I know it was when we started going big. the way he was so enthusiastic about random things, how easily he fell in love, the way he played the drums with such passion. Everyday I was falling for him, he was just so irresistible and perfect in every aspect in my eyes. But I could never have him for the fact that he was straight.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard a loud noise coming from the other end of the bar. When I looked over to see what the loud noise was I saw Tommy getting cornered by three big guys.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Anger boiled inside of me and before you know it, I was in front of Tommy putting my arm in front of him. “Well look what we have here boys, this faggot here has himself a boyfriend.” one of the guys said with a smirk.

“Look what we have here, a guy whose brain is smaller than their dick.” I said back, now smirking at the guy.

I could see the anger building up inside of him but I didn't care, all I cared about was protecting Tommy and him only.

"Listen why don't you fuck off before things get nasty." I said, ready to punch the daylights out of these fuckers.

"Or what? What are you and your little sex toy faggot behind you gonna do? Your slut gonna suck us off while you fuck him from behind?" The guy said, laughter coming from two of the others.

And that's what did it for me.

I punched him square in the face and everything was hell loose from there. Bottles were thrown around, people screaming, and bruises were made. It got so bad to the point where 5 police cars showed up, which is how it got me to being handcuffed along with Tommy. You're probably wondering why he got arrested as well, let's just say once you piss one off, you piss of another. I mean, they don't call us Terror Twins for nothing.

The car ride to the police station was filled with nothing but silence and with the occasion of me and Tommy receiving secret glances and smiles from eachother.

As we entered into the police station they booked us in, took our mugshot, than got changed into their shitty ass clothes. After that we got put in the same cell, I think the police woman said something but I didn't pay attention to a damn word she said.

Me and Tommy both sat down on a metal bench, neither of us saying nothing to one another, silence being the only thing around us until Tommy broke it.

"Why'd you do that?" He asked, still not looking at me.

"Do what?" I asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Protect me, back there. You didn't have to." He said, looking down at his lap.

"Just instincts I guess," I said shrugging my shoulders, "I guess when I saw you were in trouble I sorta just felt this thing or rather something telling me to protect you, sounds cliche I know but it's true." I told him sheepishly.

He finally looks at me, his dark brown eyes meeting my green ones. I felt him sneak his hand at the bottom of mine and lace them together, never daring to keep his eyes off me.

"Yeah but still, I could've defended myself, it wouldn't be the first." He says the last part to himself, I have to ask him about that later.

"I know that. It's just that," I hesitate.

"It's just what? Nikki you can tell me anything, whatever it is I'm here for you,"  he looks down at our intertwined hands, "I'm here for you for as long as you need me to." He said.

"It's just that- fuck Tommy," I took a deep breath, "I love you." I said finally.

He looks at my blankly before smiling at me sweetly.

"Well I love you too, bro" He said.

…

I mentally slap myself.

Tommy for Jesus fuck sake.

"No- I mean- fuck Tommy why do you gotta make this so difficult." I said, pulling away from our intertwined hands and heding my face with both of my hands.

Seconds pass before I feel him pull my hands away from my face. I look at him, and before I can register anything.

He kisses me.

His soft lips meeting my slightly chapped ones. His kiss doesn't feel like the ones I usually receive, no, this one is filled with love, care, and passion.

Something I haven't truly received from anyone in a long time.

We pull away from each other, both of us breathless.

"You taste like whiskey."

"Oh fuck you."

"Maybe once we get out of here you can."

We both laugh. He pulls me against his chest, running his hands through my hair while rubbing my back gently.

We stay like this for the rest of the night, police look at us weirdly while walking past our cell but we both didn't care.

I felt safe in his arms.

I felt at home in his arms.

He was my home sweet home.

Something I thought I can never achieve or have until now.

[justanultrastressedwriter]

Aw Hell No - Ch X

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TW: Swearing; Bickering; Mention of drug use; Mention of suicide; Mention of Homophobia; Mention of Bullying. Let me know if I should tag anything else.

---------------------------------------------

*~ Following Saturday: The Party ~*

“Are you sure you have the right address, James? We’re way out in the middle of the boonies, which is saying a lot considering where we live, ya know?” Connor said, scanning their surroundings through the windshield feeling lost. Not that there was much filling their surroundings, just some trees, and stuff.

“Yes, Smith, I’m sure. I come here every year and the hostess herself texted me the address, so you know, I have the exact fucking source, you think skulled giant. It’s her parents’ vacation house.” Daniel glared at Connor, who had to fight back a grin at his antics. “Besides, according to the GPS, we’ll be there in less than two minutes.”

“I trust you, I just don’t like long car rides, is all. I get antsy.” Connor admitted, tapping the steering wheel to try and get rid of some of his excess energy. “I just keep going straight, right?” “Unless you see a place to turn off?” Daniel snipped, sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “It’ll be at the end of this road, there will be a gravel driveway, that’s where you’re gonna want to park.”

Connor couldn’t help but notice how excessively snarky Daniel was being. Like, he was aware that the other boy was a sarcastic person in general, but it was like his normal snark had been multiplied by one hundred. “Hey, short stack, something wrong? You seem extra snarky.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, can we just enjoy the party tonight please?” Daniel answered in a clipped tone. 

“Sure, whatever you want.” Connor agreed, not wanting to let it slide, but he didn’t want Daniel to be mad at him. Not knowing what to say and not liking the silence, Connor blurted the first thing to come to his mind, “So, is this your first party?”

Daniel stiffened as if he had been electrocuted and Connor realized what an idiot he was. Daniel had just mentioned that he came to this party every year, what a fucking idiot, Connor. He had to stop himself from face-palming with embarrassment. 

Daniel shook his head, attempting to be casual, but Connor noticed how tense he was. “Not in the slightest. Charlie and I come here every year and she has some cousins half an hour away who throw some pretty awesome ones. They’re quite the ragers.”

“Nice. Do you go to any of the ones that Jessica throws? Hers are the best in town.” Connor asked, grinning at the memories and with relief that Daniel didn’t make fun of him for his terrible attempt at conversation. 

Connor had been a little too early on the relief when he heard Daniel make an almost choked, strangled sound. With a voice like acid, he answered with, “No. You and your boys have made it very clear that people like me aren’t welcome at any of your parties.” 

Connor flinched at his tone and was struck with memory as if he had been punched in the gut. He vaguely remembered, almost as if it was coming through a static TV, a party from their freshman year of high school. He knew exactly what Daniel was referring to and he felt his stomach creep up his throat. 

It had been their freshman year, not long after Daniel had come out of the closet, and Jessica had thrown a post-football game party. Everyone in their class had been there. It had been their first win as high schoolers, so Connor and his friends had been drinking heavily. They were young and inexperienced in pacing themselves, so the liquor, excitement, and their teenage testosterone had been running heavily through their veins, hitting all of them especially hard. Connor was in no way trying to justify what had happened or shift the blame off of him. 

Back then it had been Daniel, Charlie, and a guy named Kyle. Their friend Grace had become a cheerleader so she was drifting away from their original group. Daniel had come out of the closet less than a month before, so his sexuality had still been the hot gossip around campus and it coupled with new rumors that he and Kyle were together. Connor and his friends had been feeling extra rowdy and territorial that night, they couldn’t stand the fact that no one was relishing in their win but their attention was focused on the “faggots” of campus, so they were especially harsh to them that night. They called Kyle and Daniel all of the names in the book and thrown in some cruel jabs about their parents, then physically throwing them out of the party and beating them severely in the driveway outside. 

Like Daniel, Kyle also didn’t have a great home life. It was just him and his stepdad who was on countless different drugs and had been beating on him since his mom had died when they were all in grade school. That paired with everything that Connor and his team had done, apparently had been too much for Kyle because he had shot himself in the head with his Dad’s shotgun that night. 

Connor put in the car in park in the gravel driveway after mentally reliving the events of that night, turning to Daniel. The other boy refused to look up, even when the car stopped. His face had gone ghost white and he was squeezing his fists so tightly that his hands were shaking. “Listen, short stack, there’s no way for me to even begin trying to fix what I did and I think about what I could’ve done differently that night that would’ve changed the outcome. I feel terrible about it whenever I think about it.”

Connor watched Daniel, judging his reaction like he was a puma waiting to pounce. He watched the other boy take some deep shaky breaths, regaining some kind of composure. He kept a steely gaze out his window, “Hakuna Matata, Smith. The past is in the past, nothing you can do about it now.”

It was obvious that Daniel was lying through his teeth and hiding his emotions, but Connor didn’t want to push him or his boundaries on the subject and make it worse. He knew Daniel was a very private person who kept his emotions to himself, so Connor let it go as Daniel climbed out of the car, still not meeting his eyes. Meeting Daniel at the front of the car, Connor locked it and followed the other boy inside.  

The music was pounding, practically shaking the walls of the house and slightly hurting Connor’s ears. Despite the slight pain and the overwhelming of his senses, Connor was excited. He could feel his heart pounding and blood coursing through his veins, filled with adrenaline. This was the type of environment Connor loved, it was almost as good as a football game. Connor somehow managed to keep track of Daniel as he weaved throughout the dancing crowd. He almost lost him a few times, so Connor decided to grab onto his sleeve.

Daniel stopped abruptly at the entrance to the kitchen, causing Connor to almost crash into him. Daniel stepped close to Connor so they could hear each other over the party better, “The bathroom is on the second floor, third door on your left. I’m going to wish the host a happy birthday and get us some drinks. What’s your poison, sporto?”

“Just a beer would be great, thanks,” Connor answered, feeling a bit of unease at the thought of being left alone in a party full of people he didn’t know. 

“Pacing yourself, I like it. I’m gonna go get hammered,” Daniel grinned wryly. Connor knew it was supposed to be a joke, but Daniel spoke with such an empty voice, that Connor couldn’t even smile. “Meet me back here in, like, twenty?”

“Sure,” Connor replied, dejectedly. The word barely left his lips before Daniel turned away from him, disappearing in the crowd. 

Once he disappeared, Connor realized how lost and self-conscious he felt - which were new feelings for him. He knew absolutely nobody here except for Daniel; who had just disappeared, most likely upset with him. 

And Connor couldn’t blame him. What Connor and his friends had done at that treacherous party, was the worst thing he’d ever done.