In the Closet (boy x boy)

29. Damn, That's Gotta Hurt

Saturday, April 22nd

The words I just uttered ring in my head.

It's all your fault, all because you refuse to admit you're fucking gay, Tavish.
... all because you refuse to admit you're fucking gay, Tavish.
... you're fucking gay, Tavish.

I wet my dry lips and my chin twitches. I didn't mean to out him in front of everyone he cares about. I really didn't. Guilt wracks me. I want to apologise but I fear he might think I'm sorry for everything. And that's not the case, he's the one who should be sorry for everything. The world blurs around me as I sink. I want to leave. I want to melt into the ground. I want to dissolve in the air. But none of that happens and I'm left to mend my faults.

Tavish claps back and I only catch the end of the sentence. "... you're gay too, Will," he pauses, chest heaving and eyes burning into mine.

I take a second to survey the audience to our argument. Blair seems merely interested, unfazed by the back-to-back forced coming outs. Seamus clenches and relaxes his jaw. His bowl sits empty in front of him. Aqua blinks, a strange sense of sadness and dismay to her expression. Our gazes meet. She shakes her head slowly, stands up and then leaves the room. I vaguely understand she might have been romantically interested in me but shrug the thought off. What catches me off guard is the lack of surprise to the revelation that Tavish likes men. Did they already know? Tavish doesn't look worried about them knowing anyway, he's more focused on our argument.

"Don't be a bastard," he tells me.

My lip twitches in disgust at his fucking audacity. "I'm being a bastard? Really?"

"A haughty bastard, that's for sure." The precision pisses me off further and I know what he's referring to. But as people often tend to be, he's wrong.

"I never said I wasn't gay. I never denied it to flatter my image. I never hurt others because I'm insecure about my sexuality."

He narrows his eyes at me. "And I did?"

"You're the one suggesting so." I raise my chin, pretend I'm above all this fuss. But I'm not.

The fierceness in his eyes, the sharpness of his tight jaw, the rise and fall of his shoulders as he huffs. Through all of him, I rediscover why I allowed him to hurt me so many times and yet still craved him so bad. I can't stand it, I can't stand that I want him even more than at the beginning. He's so good that I long for him when he isn't there. But then he's so bad that I wish he disappeared when he's near me. That's why it took me so long to truly loathe him with all my heart. In case I forgot, Tavish tasks himself with reminding me why he's so hate-worthy.

"You're disgusting, Billy. It seems you might have forgotten about that." With satisfaction thick in his voice, he prods at my insecurity.

I swallow back the humiliating tickle in my eyes. "I'm well aware. What is it to you anyway? Huh, Tavish?"

He steps forward towards me and I flinch. Blair holds his wrist to keep him from approaching me further.

"Oh, don't get it wrong. I don't care about you. You're nothing, Billy. You don't matter," he spits.

I let the words muddle in my brain, dislocate to pieces and rebuilt themselves. It only hurts more because all I hear is new reasons to hate myself. In a mess of shame and disgust, tears begin to catch in my eyelashes. I try, I swear I do, to hold it all in as I usually do. But as I push a shaky breath between my lips, a sob escapes as well. Tavish's chest inflates and he looks away. I don't know what he's thinking. I don't understand why he's not just enjoying the result to his words. He's getting what he wanted so bad. Me, broken. So why doesn't he seem happy? Why does he pretend to have some sense of morality in him, some feelings somewhere? It pisses me off. It's infuriating, even more than those darn microwaves.