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It wasn’t a special day. It wasn’t his birthday or a holiday. It wasn’t directly after some kind of bullying that left him in dire need of cheering up. In fact, Eliot wasn’t even sure how long it had been since he’d killed Logan Kinnear, but he was starting to feel stronger and less guilty. He’d never not feel guilty, of course, but he could live with it now. No, it was a completely, ordinary, run of the mill day. Eliot hadn’t finished his chores when Taylor got there, so his friend pitched in. There was no way he was going to make the other boy shovel shit, but it seemed acceptable to let him put fresh feed and water in for the animals as Eliot cleaned.
They were both brushing opposite sides of the horse when Eliot changed the subject from school and (God forbid) sports. “How hard is it to get a job when you’re under eighteen?”
“Probably not too hard,” Taylor shrugged. “You might need a work permit or something. Why? Shit shovel not enough?”
Eliot snickered. Taylor knew how much he hated the farm, and ‘shit shovel’ had become their shorthand phrase for everything he was responsible for. “Oh, no, it does,” Eliot agreed. “But if I start earning money now, I can get the fuck out of here as soon as I graduate.”
It suddenly occurred to him that Eliot was watching Taylor brush the horse instead of what he himself was doing. It didn’t exactly take a ton of focus to use a brush, but the last thing he wanted was to get caught staring at his best friend’s eyes. Or his hands. Fuck.
“Is it really that bad here?” Taylor asked, and Eliot frowned. He sounded sad.
“That bad?” Eliot echoed. Had Taylor not been around at all the past few years or just not been paying attention? “You’re literally the only person in this whole goddamn state who’s nice to me.”
Taylor didn’t reply and that was how Eliot knew he’d screwed something up. He set the brush down and rounded the small enclosure to take Taylor’s shoulders. “I am leaving this godforsaken town and this farm. Not you. You’re my best friend.”
Taylor smiled a little and Eliot felt his heart flutter. Traitor. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Duh,” Eliot rolled his eyes as he dropped his arms and leaned against the back of the stall. “Everyone else thinks I’m a fucking faggot.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest because even a statement like that, which barely hinted at the truth, felt like something he needed protecting from. Some day, maybe he wouldn’t be afraid of that, but here on his family’s farm, with a father who told jokes that sounded more like threats… nothing felt possible.
“Oh.”
Eliot sighed. “And you’re fun. I mean, chores- not so fun, but… Seriously, do I really have to tell you why we’re friends? It’s not just because you don’t think-”
“Would it be so bad?” Taylor cut him off. “If- if you were? Because I wouldn’t care, you know.”
“Okay,” Eliot replied, not sure where this was going. “So you think I’m gay, too.”
“No! I mean… Jesus, Eliot, I’m saying I don’t care either way. It’s just… do you? What if I was a ‘fucking faggot,’ would you still be my friend?” he asked, and Eliot’s stupid asshole heart skipped a beat.
“Are you?” he asked, because he couldn’t say anything right today.
“Never mind,” Taylor shook his head and went to unbolt the door. “I should study for this trig test tomorrow.”
Eliot caught his wrist to stop him while he tried to make his mouth work. “I’d still be your friend,” he finally said.
Taylor gave him a sad smile now, one that said Eliot still hadn’t gotten it right somehow. “Thanks, El. Nice to know you can still be friends with a fucking-”
“Stop,” Eliot said. He realized he was shaking a little. “You can’t… tell anyone.”
“Why? Afraid they’ll think we’re dating? I should have known you wouldn’t get it. I just hoped maybe, since you knew what it felt like to be hated for it, you might… I don’t know. At least not be a giant dick.”
Eliot swallowed. His dad was out of town, delivering a load of alfalfa that had just been baled, so no one was here to overhear him. Still, the words didn’t come until the door was unbolted and Taylor was leaving, shit, Taylor was leaving. Eliot had ruined the only good thing in his life, and all he could say was, “Please don’t leave me.”
Taylor’s shoulders stiffened and he didn’t even turn around. “Seriously?”
“You’re all I’ve got.”
The first word of his reply was nothing but a disbelieving scoff. “Not a good enough reason to hang around someone who says he can be my friend, but hates one of the biggest parts of me.”
“I don’t,” Eliot begged. “I don’t, I just…”
The raw hurt and anger on Taylor’s face when he finally turned around took the air from Eliot’s lungs. “You just what?”
Eliot tried, he really did. He opened his mouth and too many words came up at once, barreling into each other and clogging up his throat so that nothing came out. He just couldn’t let any of them know they were right, couldn’t let it get back to a father who once joked that all any homo needed was a rake up the ass for a cure. Even knowing that Taylor was admitting to being gay (or at least not straight) Eliot was too scared to utter the words. So he gave up on words and pulled Taylor into a hug. Taylor hugged him back, though he seemed more confused in contrast with Eliot’s quiet desperation. Giving up every protection he’d ever laid down, Eliot let his walls drop for the first time in what felt like his entire life. He pulled back just enough to press his lips to Taylor’s.
Eliot braced himself to be shoved away. Instead of revulsion, he felt Taylor’s arms tighten around him and Eliot knew his message had gotten across. Better yet, Taylor was kissing him, holy fuck. His best friend took over the kiss like a man stranded in the desert who’d finally been given a glass of water. He pushed Eliot backward into the wall and Eliot couldn’t even bring himself to care about their equine witness. He whimpered a little as Taylor gripped his waist instead, and relished in the feeling of not being alone. The kissing was good, the best Eliot would probably ever have, but the feeling was better. It reeked of hay and horse, but the walls were high enough that Eliot felt safe from prying eyes. For the first time, he felt relaxed, like he didn’t have to be strong, like he didn’t have to be someone he wasn’t and never could be.
When the kiss finally ended, Taylor didn’t pull away. Their foreheads resting against each other, the solid weight of another body holding him in place, Eliot simply let his eyes close so he could remember everything and pretend that maybe they didn’t have to go back to reality.
It made the next day even harder when reality slammed itself into him like a fucking tractor trailer. Taylor had told people. Not about Eliot, no. He didn’t even imply Eliot knew. That stupid asshole had to come out and ruin everything. It wouldn’t matter if his dad believed Eliot was straight. Hanging out with a friend who was now openly gay would get his ass kicked on a daily basis. Probably at school, too. His heart felt like an open wound. He’d told Taylor no one could know, and here he was outing himself and what would in effect be Eliot, too. Worse, he’d made it impossible for them to be together even as friends and that was what wrecked him the most. He’d trusted Taylor with his deepest, darkest secret, and Taylor had- what? Decided coming out would give Eliot some kind of courage? Like it wasn’t a fucking death sentence where they lived? Eliot wouldn’t be forced out of the closet, not by someone who couldn’t understand why he was so afraid in the first place. Why the hell had Taylor done this to him? By the time he finally got to their shared gym class, Eliot was seething. “El, I’ve been trying to track you down all-”
“Eliot,” he interrupted coldly. “We’re not friends, so you don’t call me El. I don’t want you around me anymore.”
There was a jeer behind him that Eliot ignored. Taylor looked crushed, but it was nothing compared to the raw agony he’d caused Eliot. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”
“Looks like we were wrong about who wears the skirt,” someone behind him said. The voices were building, and Eliot merely stared unflinchingly at Taylor. He’d warned him. He’d told his former best friend what people were like, and he’d ignored everything Eliot had asked him to do. He was so fucking angry because it didn’t have to be this way. They could have been happy. They could have left this stupid town together, but Taylor knew better than Eliot.
Later that night, Eliot curled up on the floor of the stall where they’d kissed, vaguely hoping something would spook the horse into stomping on his skull. Everything hurt and the adrenaline and rage were no longer there to convince him he was right to take his anger out on Taylor. He could still feel the give of flesh against his shoe as he gave that wholly unnecessary parting kick just so Taylor knew it was personal.
The worst part was wondering if maybe Taylor had been right. Maybe they could have figured it out if Eliot wasn’t such a coward.
Maybe he wouldn’t be crying alone on the floor of a barn, wishing he hadn’t just created his own worst memory.
Maybe he wouldn’t be filled with so many maybes.