Chapter Text
Chapter 3
Mason took a deep breath, then clicked the button. He stares at his results. “You might be gay!” the Buzzfeed quiz read. Deep down somewhere he probably knew but…
“It’s just a Buzzfeed quiz,” he mutters. “It might not be true. It might not… it might not…” Tears threatened to form in his eyes, when a voice pipes up, “What might not be true?”
He whips around and finds Brayden staring at him. “Bro!” Mason exclaimed. “Sorry. Brayden,” he corrected.
“Is everything alright, Mason?” Brayden asks carefully. “I know I’m a feminist now, but this frat house is still my home. And you’re still my bro, always. Even if you’re closed-minded and toxically masculine. Wait… are you crying?”
Mason wiped the tears from his eyes. “Brayden… you said we have no reason to hate qu— gay people, right?”
The other man frowned. “Of course. They’re people first, and even if they’re different from you and me, they’re still worthy of our respect.”
Swallowing, Mason choked through sobs, "They might not be. Different, I mean. At least from me.” He showed Brayden his screen. “I don’t know how to feel anymore, Bray. I don’t know who I am. I’m a man. My father raised me that way. How could I…” he trailed off when Brayden wrapped him in a hug.
“Thank you for trusting me with this, bro. I promise not to break it. Why do you think you’re gay?”
Mason buried his face in his friend’s shoulder. “I… I think I like someone. A guy. He won’t get off my mind, and earlier I was making out with a girl, and I didn’t feel anything. But when I think of him…” he paused. “That’s what they’re talking about, in the movies. When they say they get butterflies.”
Brayden nodded. “I get it. You’re scared because intolerance is what you were raised with. You’re scared because, for the first time, you finally know who you are, and who you are is something you were told to hate. But the first step is acceptance, and I’m glad you’re taking it.”
“I talked to your friend, Benji,” said Mason. “He said he’s this thing called bisexual. There’s a lot I don’t know about, isn’t there?”
“Yeah, Benji is attracted to both men and women. There are a lot of other identities, too. If you want, maybe you can ask him to explain them. I know you guys didn’t get off on a good note, but I’m sure he’d be open to explaining things to you. You know, he’s actually a really good guy.”
Mason sighed. “Yeah. I know. He saved me from getting squished at the gym while I was going for a PR.”
“Damn. Any cute girls see? Or, you know, guys?”
“Just him,” Mason muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing!” he yelped. “Nothing. No cute, uhh, anyone. Nobody.”
There was a beat of silence, before Brayden pulled out his phone, scrolling to his contacts. “Here,” he said, clicking the icon that said Benji. “This is his number. Put it in your phone and shoot him a text. I’m sure he’d be alright with it.”
Mason smiled a genuine smile for the first time in several days. “Thanks, bro. I’m glad you’re so supportive of me.”
Hovering his thumb across the blue arrow in the corner of the text box, Mason contemplates sending the text. It would change a lot. Admitting his secret to Brayden was one thing, but to Benji? This boy he hardly knows, and even worse, the boy that caused all of this confusion in the first place? If he put it in words, he would make it real.
But then again, he had spent so long not knowing what was real and what wasn’t. Had he ever kissed a woman out of love rather than obligation? He thought back to romance movies he'd seen, where men would cry at wedding altars and his father would snort derisively. “Queers,” he scowled. “Men don’t cry over females.” Something real inside of Mason agreed. He would never be happy, marrying a woman, and definitely not happy to the point of tears. What was the big deal? Men don’t marry for love, anyways. That’s what Dad told him. Men marry to conquer.
But then he pictured a man, walking down the aisle. He pictured himself waking up in bed next to a squared jaw, curly black hair, a wide, triangular back. He pictured bringing his husband flowers after work, placing them into hands with light blue veins woven into the backs, clad with silver rings.
Suddenly, it felt very reasonable to cry at the sight of his lover.
And maybe this has been real. It always has been.
Mason steels his nerves, then sends the text.
Ten minutes later, his phone buzzes with a notification. Benji had replied.
Mason 6-7: hey, dude I know this is really random, but I think I might be queer, and I don’t want to offend you, but Brayden told me I could talk to you, since you’re bicycle or whatever
Mason 6-7: I feel like I need to learn more about the whole community cuz there are a lot of letters that I don’t know about yet and I wanna learn more about queer ppl if I am one
Mason 6-7: yakno
Benji (He/Him): Hi Mason. I’m glad you’re reaching out. Brayden let me know what was going on.
Benji (He/Him): I’d like to talk about this in person. How about we meet at Jared’s Cafe at 4:30 tomorrow?
Mason scrambled for his phone. Benji didn’t hate him? And wanted to meet? Mason prayed it was for coffee, and not that hideous green matcha thing he always carried with him. How should he respond? Should he be excited? Or should he match Benji’s math-teacher-core energy? He decided to be nonchalant instead.
Mason 6-7: ya sure dude
Mason 6-7: drop the addy
Benji (He/Him): 67 Magnolia Dr
Mason 6-7: 6 7, lmaoo
[Seen]
Mason wondered if making a 6 7 joke was a bad idea, but decided it was probably fine. For now, he rolled over in his bed and placed down his phone, both nerves and excitement creeping up inside him. Tomorrow, for better or worse, he would see Benji, and face the music: everything has changed.