summer

eleven- out

"What?"

"What did you think?" Asked Sawyer, looking really upset. He briefly looked up from the food he was preparing, and Dylan noted he was putting it on two plates. He'd made a serving for him.

"I don't know- I thought- drugs or something? They really- they kicked you out for that?" Asked Dylan, painfully horrified. Sawyer sat across the counter from him, pushing a plate of stir fry over to him. "Thanks," Dylan mumbled, too surprised to even really register the kindness of the gesture.

"Yeah. I came out as gay to my mom because I thought she'd be supportive. She- well, she wasn't, and outed me to my dad and her best friend. My dad was super upset about it, and he made me leave. It wasn't that bad, I guess, but it did really hurt. I moved in with my buddy from school, Ben, but that didn't last long. Turns out my mom's best friend told her kid who was in my grade, she outed me to everyone, even Ben. He ended up kicking me out of his house too, saying he didn't want to fuck me," said Sawyer miserably, looking like he was about to cry. "I didn't want to fuck him either, I just didn't know where to go!" He spat, staring down at his food.

"Jesus," whispered Dylan, unconsciously grabbing Sawyer's hand. "That's so- Jesus."

"Yeah," said Sawyer, rubbing his face in his hands. Since Dylan was still holding one of them, his hand ended up briefly tracing Sawyer's cheek, which was surprisingly damp.

"Are you- are you crying?" Dylan asked.

"I just- I thought you knew. I never- I never would've come here if I'd thought it would make you uncomfortable, Dylan, I'm sorry-"

"Sawyer, what? I don't even- what? Sawyer, it's okay! I don't care! It's okay!" Dylan cried, leaping up to dash over to the other side of the counter. "It's okay!" He repeated, pulling Sawyer's hands away from his face as his strong body shook with tears. He didn't seem as intimidating when he cried- just like a teenage boy in pain. That hurt Dylan, a lot.

"I'm sorry," he cried, leaning into Dylan's chest. Before Dylan could wrap his arms around him, he pulled himself back, rubbing his eyes. "I'm fine. It's whatever. I'm fine. Sorry. I don't- I'm fine."

"Are you- are you sure?" Dylan pushed, eyes wide.

"Mhm. It's whatever. Just- let's just eat."

Dylan nodded, going back to the other side of the counter to give Sawyer the space he clearly wanted. It felt wrong, pretending that everything was fine when Dylan could see that it clearly wasn't, but he didn't know what else to do. He ate the dinner Sawyer had made him, his mind racing.

      "This is good," he said, gesturing to the stir fry.

      "Mm," Sawyer said, and Dylan noticed he hadn't ate much of his.

      "Sawyer-" he started, staring awkwardly down at his hands. "I- you didn't- you didn't deserve that, you know? It's not- it's okay to be gay. It doesn't matter. And you- you're a good person. You are. You didn't deserve that.  Your family missed out when they lost you." Dylan rambled, knowing he'd never had a way with words. He glanced up at Sawyer, who's eyes teared up unexpectedly.

"That's really not true, I'm not a good person at all, Dy."

"Really?" Dylan laughed. "What have you ever done wrong?"

"I lied to everybody for so long. I pretended I wasn't, you know. I lied. And I'm gay, too. I'm gay."

"Neither of those make you a bad person."

"You don't understand-"

"Yes, Sawyer, I do. I know you. You lied to keep yourself safe. That doesn't make you bad, that makes you hurt."

"I'm gay, Dylan," he snapped, his voice cracking. "That's a sin!" He cried, then hid his face in his hands. Dylan jumped to his feet and crosses to his side of the counter again, desperate to comfort this aching boy.

"No, it's not," he said forcefully, turning Sawyer's stool so his back was against the counter and he was facing Dylan. He shoved his arms around him and held the counter so Sawyer had nowhere to go.

"Dy, stop," he said, trying to duck under his arms but Dylan keeps him trapped.

"Not until I think you're okay."

"But I'm not!" He cried, standing up and pushing his stool, making their chests touch. "I'm gay Dylan! I can't every be okay if I'm like that! I'm sick!"

"Sawyer, you're not!" Exploded Dylan, tightening his arms against him. "Then I'm sick? Then I'm a sinner?" He cried, then realized what he'd said as his throat caught. "I don't-"

      "What?"

      "I'm not trying to make this about me, I-"

      "You're gay?"

      "I don't- I don't know," Dylan whispered. He'd never told anyone about his, ever, and it shook him to his core. "I'm not- I'm not straight," he said, staring at his feet.

"Oh, Dylan," Sawyer whispered back, and Dylan was shocked to see the horror in his eyes when he looked up at him. "Dylan, I'm sorry. Oh, God. I- I made you like this. I'm so sorry. I- oh, God, I-"

"Sawyer, what?" Dylan cried at his lunacy. "You didn't make me queer, Sawyer, it's not an airborne fucking disease!"

"I- I did this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he cried, eyes wide and filled with tears.

"Sawyer," Dylan cried, reaching up to cradle his face in his hands. Though Dylan was almost 6 feet tall, he still had to reach to hold Sawyer. "Oh, Angel. This isn't your fault. Nothing's your fault. It's okay. I've got you. You're okay," Dylan cooed, stroking the tears off his cheeks. Sawyer gasped, and then broke into a sob once more. He collapsed into Dylan's chest, burying his face in the crook of his neck and pressing his arms against his chest. Dylan wrapped his arms around him as tightly as he could, stroking his hair as Sawyer had done for him. "Oh, Sawyer. There's nothing wrong with you. You're okay. It's okay. I've got you, it's okay."