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“Do you want to explain this, son?”
The tone of his father’s voice makes Loudmouth’s blood run cold. He knows that tone too well; he freezes, as though the chill in his blood has reached his bones to keep him in place. His father holds up an envelope, a polaroid sticking out. He feels the ground drop out from under him as he sees exactly what the photo is of - Micah, one of the other players, his long hair out of its ponytail and spilling over his shoulders like molten gold in the light of the bonfire, sitting on his lap. Loudmouth could remember exactly how he felt, all warm and soft against him, and the way his mouth tasted. It wasn’t what - who - Loudmouth had really wanted, but it was nice enough, sitting together, making out lazily between sips of too-sweet alcohol and pulls off bummed cigarettes. How had his dad gotten those pictures? “Dad, I know what it looks like, but-”
He’s never seen his father like this, and Loudmouth flinches when he stands up, crossing the living room in a step to shove the photo in his face, his other hand wrapped around Loudmouth’s shirt collar. “Don’t bullshit me,” he snaps, dropping the picture to backhand him, “You better have a damn good explanation for this, and you better have one right now.”
Loudmouth can’t stop shaking as he presses his back up against the wall, trying to put as much space between them as he can. It’s not enough, and he takes a breath, lifting his chin to stare his father in the eye, preparing himself as much as he can for whatever is about to happen. He can’t lie anymore. It’s been killing him for years, and he just can’t force himself to do it anymore. “I like guys, Dad.”
The second blow isn’t physical, but it hurts all the same. “Get out of my house.”
Loudmouth freezes, his eyes going wide. “Dad?”
His father shakes his head. “Get the fuck out. I don’t care where you go, but I won’t have something like you under my roof.”
Loudmouth glances at his mother, her hands wringing as she watches them. “Mom, please-”
She shakes her head, looking between them. “Go upstairs, I’ll be there in a minute, sweetie.” As he passes her, his shoulders slumped, she rests a hand on his arm.
Loudmouth tries to listen for the conversation downstairs, but all he can hear is muffled raised voices - mostly his father. He packs as much as he can, as fast as he can, but he stops when he hears quiet footsteps on the stairs. His mother walks in, her hands playing with the hem of her cardigan - it’s one he and Rabble had knitted for her, a little too big, but warm and soft and light blue, her favorite color. “Honey, come sit down.” She heads to his bed, perching gingerly on the edge of his mattress and patting the blanket next to her.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Loudmouth swallows back tears as he speaks, his eyes searching her face when he sits down at her side.
She sighs, taking his hands in hers. “Your dad and I have agreed that it might be better if you left for a day or two, just until things calm down. Rabble and his brothers, they have an apartment, don’t they? Would you be okay staying with them until your dad calms down a little? It’s just for a couple of days, you know how he is.” She squeezes his hands in hers. “Are you… are you really sure this is what you want? You don’t have to… I mean, you can just marry a nice girl anyway, lots of boys like you have done it. Just… for the family? It’ll be so much easier on you, and I want little grandbabies, you know.”
Loudmouth swallows hard, and thinks of Rabble, Ruckus, and Mischief. No, he won’t be able to even pretend to fall in love with anyone else. Even if they never love him the same way he loves him, they’re his friends, and that’s enough. “No, mom, I can’t.” He tries to smile, but it can’t quite chase the tears from his eyes or his cheeks. She reaches up, wiping them away for him, a sad smile on her own lips.
“I’ll help you pack up, then,” she says, sighing as he pulls away.
Loudmouth sits at the end of the driveway, his backpack, duffel bag, and his mom’s suitcase - each packed with everything they could fit - sitting next to him. He slumps down to sit next to them, closing his eyes as he waits for Rabble to answer the phone.
“Loudmouth?” The joy in his best friend’s voice is almost enough to make him smile, but he starts crying instead. “Lud’ika, what’s wrong?”
“Hey, Rab’ika,” he manages, “I kinda got kicked out.”
“We’re on our way.”
And with that, somehow, his world almost gets set right.