Chapter Text
I began to think of ways I could discreetly figure things out about Andy. What would be the appropriate questions to ask? Where should I ask them? How will I react?
So, that led me to showing up to his house unannounced that Saturday. Well, it wasn’t much of a surprise that I was showing up to his house with no warning, it was just a thing we did and our families didn’t question it.
His house was about a 10 or so minute walk from mine through mundane country lanes, but it was quite peaceful so I never really minded.
I gave two quick knocks on the door and stood back slightly. The angelic man himself answered the door.
Oh my fuck.
You have to stop.
Please.
“Tom!” he grinned, “I was not expecting you but, please, come in!” Oh, it was quite apparent he wasn’t expecting me alright.
Clad in nothing but his boxers and his hair all wet, it was clear he had just gotten out of the shower. The water droplets still clinging to his skin made him look majestic.
Majestic.
Majestic?
Oh Jesus Christ.
“Oh geez, sorry And, I should’ve called ahead, my bad,” I said awkwardly. I don’t know why I was apologising. We never apologised for showing up to each other's houses. Then again, we were pretty much fully covered every time we hung out.
“Nah, don’t worry about it, you’re fine. Let’s go to my room.” He rushed off ahead, bounding up the stairs and obviously I followed him because he had me on a fucking leash.
Fuck, I’m his dog.
Once I got into the familiar area that was Andy’s room, I sat down hesitantly on the foot of his bed. See, I had a whole plan ready. I was going to casually ask about celebrity crushes because it was a non pressure way to find out his sexuality basically. Even if he did just list off women, I could still see if he had any inkling of attraction towards men based on if the women were somewhat masculine looking.
Hell, even the most homophobic people ever will have a same sex celebrity they would bang ‘if they had to.’
What I hadn’t planned for was how distracted I would get at a pretty much naked Andrew. That totally messed with my train of thought.
God, he was so fucking handsome.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop.
I was battling an internal battle with myself almost everyday now since I realised this crush. I had identified I had a crush but that didn’t mean I fully accepted it. I would so want Andy to ask me out but at the same time I felt so weird for liking him. Would he think I was some perverted freak, liking my best friend like that? Every single fucking day my brain was switched on to him and figuring out what the fuck I was. Yeah, I didn’t remember having any proper crushes before him but that just made me more confused! Women were pretty, I could admit that. In TV shows and whatnot I could look at a woman and say she was hot, no doubt about it. But then, with men, it seemed different. I could never fully decide if I was jealous of them, wanted to be friends with them or actually liked liked them. But then, with Andy, I suppose it was crystal clear I liked liked him. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but myself though. In fact, each day I would go through random bouts where I couldn’t even admit it to myself. God, this shit was so fucking confusing.
Andy snapped me out of my thoughts by tossing a controller in my hands. “Wanna play something?” I nodded, too focused on his toned chest to say any words.
Fucking freak.
He flicked through his games and landed on one and started snickering. He held it up to me.
“Mario Kart?” I whinged, “But you know I’m so bad at that.”
“So that’s exactly why we’re playing it,” he laughed.
He was pretty cute when he laughed.
Ohhh shut the fuck up man.
He picked some random track and he took Princess Peach as his avatar as always, a running gag between us. Ironic.
I didn’t have a set character so I scrolled around before picking Luigi. We designed our vehicles before Andy pressed play.
Andy was ridiculously good at Mario Kart. It was actually frightening. It was one of the most random talents I’d ever seen from anyone but I was beyond jealous of him.
However, he did look hot leaning back on his new desk chair with only one hand on the controller, effortlessly winning.
Stop, Tom.
We played in silence for a few minutes, the quiet only punctured by the odd groan of annoyance or a small cheer.
I decided to start it off with some small talk and work my way up to my million-dollar question.
“So, did that whole Felicity thing get sorted?”
He snorted, “I wish. Like I said, I’m just point blank ignoring her now, there’s no use, she won’t listen. Just tell everyone you know it’s fake.”
“Well I wouldn’t worry, I think most people know she’s just making shit up again.”
“Good.”
I took my chance to ask quite a bold question, well, for me, “Would you ever date her though? Well, I mean, not her, she’s kind of crazy but girls like her. Looks wise, I mean.”
Truth be told, Felicity Moran was quite pretty. Not that it cancelled out her over-obsessive personality but you had to admit it.
Andy looked somewhat confused at the question, “I don’t know. I mean she’s not bad looking, I know that but she’s uh, not exactly my type.”
“And what is your type then?” I shocked myself with how breezy it came out.
Andy stuttered slightly, “I-I I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. Anyone who likes me will do. Well, bar her of course.”
I inhaled slightly more sharper than intended, “Anyone?”
He grumbled, eyes still fixated on the game, “Well not anyone obviously genius, I wouldn’t date a fucking serial killer or something.”
I completely ignored his remark, “No no, like anyone? Boys or girls?”
Andy was definitely looking uncomfortable now, “Jesus Tom what is with all the questions?”
I somehow had a newfound confidence, “Andrew, seriously, answer.”
He sighed and paused the game as he turned and faced me. He took a steadying breath.
“No, I wouldn’t date anyone. And I wouldn’t date any girls that are like Felicity Moran. Looks wise.”
I stared at him intently, willing him to go on.
“Because,” he sighed, once again, “because I wouldn’t date any girls, no matter what they looked like.”
I tried to hide the gasp that involuntarily escaped me.
“So, you’re -“
“Gay. Yeah. Andrew Hughes is a fucking faggot.”
He seemed…
Angry.
Why was he angry?
“Andy what’s wrong?”
It was only then I noticed the tears welling in his eyes he was fighting so hard to keep in.
“I don’t want to be, I really, really don’t want to be,” he whispered, voice cracking.
I didn’t know what to do. Shit. I walked across the room to him and attempted to put what I hoped was a steadying hand on his shoulder.
“I-there’s so many connotations with this Tom. So many preconceived ideas about it, about me. I don't want to be gay. ‘I’m gay’, that’s the same as saying ‘I’m Andrew’, it takes up too much of my identity. I want to be so much more than that, Tom. So much more.”
Tears were streaming down his face now.
This was not how I expected this to go.
“Andrew, stop that. You are so much more than that. Who you like doesn’t take that away from you. Being gay isn’t a bad thing you know. It’s the 21st century, Andy.” I had knelt down to be eye to eye with him as he sat on the chair, my hands resting on his thighs. I don’t know how they got there.
It was quite ironic how I was comforting Andy, saying all this shit about how it’s okay to be gay. Because it is. I don’t care if someone is. But apparently, I do seem to care if that someone’s me.
He gave a small wet chuckle as he wiped his tears, “Yeah, I know, but sometimes it really doesn’t feel like that. Imagine if any of the guys on the soccer team knew. Jesus, I would be ostracised for sure. I try not to care what people think, I do, but this is different. I’ll just wait until I’m out of here. I’m not really too pushed for teen romance anyway.”
I tried not to take the last part to heart. I felt bad for Andy, I did. He must’ve felt quite alone.
“Well, I’m here for you if you ever want to talk about it,” I said supportively, “and it doesn’t have to be deep conversations like this, it can just be banter. Like fuck, marry, kill or something.”
Andy laughed, eyes still red. “I’d like that.”
He resumed the game and we continued playing as usual.
I guess I got my answer.
——————————————————————
The next day at school, Andy and I messed about like usual. Nothing had changed since his confession. Well, on the outside, and I had a new plan to keep it that way.
After seeing how worked up Andy got after coming out to me, I knew I would be a suicidal bastard if I then asked him out. It was still on my radar but maybe down the line. Or if Andy asked me.
God, I needed to stop thinking that he would.
At lunch, the two of us departed from our lunch table we shared with the other guys we were friends with and went for a walk. The astroturf was currently under construction so there was nothing to do, really.
We got outside and fell into step. “Hey, can I say something?” Andy asked.
I snickered at the question, “Uh, duh you eejit.”
“You know how you said when we were talking about it we didn’t need to have ‘deep conversations’ all the time?”
I knew immediately that he was referencing the emotional conversation at his house on Saturday.
“Mhm, I do recall that, yes.”
“Man, Mr. Thompson is so fit,” he blurted out.
I didn’t even try to hide the surprised laugh that came out of me.
I was happy to see Andy didn’t look any bit ashamed, “I’ve been itching to tell someone. It’s so hard overhearing the girls fucking drool over him and not be able to join in.”
“God, the tragedies," I drawled sarcastically.
He pushed me playfully, “Hey, at least try to sympathise with me here. I’m opening up, aren’t I?”
“You are, that’s true. Opening up about your attraction to our year head but opening up nonetheless.”
He pretended to shoot me a dirty look before with both dissolved into laughter.
Once the laughter died down, we walked in silence for a bit.
“You know,” I started, “you actually, uh, told me before.”
“About Mr. Thompson?”
“No, about being gay.”
Andy’s eyes widened as he shushed me. “Christ, not that loud.”
“No one heard me, it’s fine,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“You don’t know that!” he exclaimed. Taking a deep breath he asked, “When?”
“At Alan’s party a while back. You were drunk. I didn’t know if you were serious or not.”
“God,” he said, “and you didn’t say anything?”
I could hear a slight annoyance in his voice.
“I didn’t want to make it awkward!” I defended, “You were drunk Andy, what was I supposed to do?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. Sorry.”
“It’s fine And, really. Maybe I should’ve said something.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
This was odd. What did he mean?
‘Maybe.’
I don’t get it.
Just then, the bell rang and we made our way back inside.
Maths.
Great.
I grabbed my bag. “Bye Andy,” I said, making my way into the direction of where my maths classroom was.
“Bye Tom,” he replied, somewhat out of it.
As I kept walking I tried to think why he would be pissed at me. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong. He was my friend, I didn’t want to pressure him. I was being a good friend, wasn’t I? Wasn’t I?
Was I?
With my legs on autopilot, I found myself collapsing into my desk and I began to root through my bag to pull out what I needed for the class.
It wasn’t that big of a deal. Yeah, it wasn’t. I just needed to talk to Andy, badly. Properly about whatever the fuck just happened. It was such a short conversation, I didn’t know his mood would change so quickly.
Andy rarely went quiet like he just had. He never really gave short answers, or looked as if his whole focus wasn’t completely on you. He was always very present, alert. Nothing really shook him. So, hence why I was pondering what had happened. Did he wish I had brought it up? Was he mad I didn’t? Was he annoyed I kind of already knew something? Christ. I didn’t have the energy to dwell on it.
I tried to focus on whatever nonsense was spilling out of Mr. Terry’s mouth, quadratics or something, I don’t know. Everything came back to Andy, what’s new. I knew I had to talk to him. I would.
Eventually.
The bell rang for the end of class. Fuck, I hadn’t taken down anything. Packing up my things, I got to my next class, English. Once again, Andy was not in my class and honestly, for now, I was okay with that. I needed some time to articulate whatever the hell I was going to say.
Walking into the classroom, I saw a poem projected on the board. Oh great, poetry.
I never had much interest in poetry. It seemed like a pretentious way to tell a story, adding in double entendres and subtext in the most confusing way possible. Half the time I was certain all the analyses were made up because come on, the poet could not have been thinking all that.
Sitting in my seat, I actually had a look at the poem.
‘We Two Boys Together Clinging’ by Walt Whitman.
I bit back a groan, this was going to be boring, wasn’t it?
I remembered the name from Dead Poets Society but I felt like that solidified it was going to be pretty fucking dull. I liked the film and all, but let’s just say I wouldn’t have exactly been lining up to join the society.
Ms. Hall walked in, late as always before giving out copies of the poem.
‘We two boys together clinging,
One the other never leaving,
Up and down the roads going—North and South excursions making,
Power enjoying—elbows stretching—fingers clutching,
Arm’d and fearless—eating, drinking, sleeping, loving,
No law less than ourselves owning—sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening,
Misers, menials, priests alarming—air breathing, water drinking, on the turf or the sea-beach dancing,
Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing,
Fulfilling our foray.’
Huh, kind of reminded me of Andy and I.
Ms. Hall finished reading out the poem, “Okay, pens out, we’re taking notes.” She went into unnecessary detail on each line so I zoned out until she got to the end and started a whole spiel on interpretations.
“Some interpret this to be of a close friendship between two boys,” she explained, “others see it more as a somewhat romantic relationship between two males, but like I said, it’s completely up to interpretation.”
I sat up straight in my chair.
Oh cool, great.
It was a poem that could be interpreted romantically and my first thought was Andy and I.
Fuck.
My.
Life.