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Charles is not homophobic.
Right?
Right?
When Pierre first told him he was gay, back when they were gangly teenagers hiding their stolen beer bottles in the Leclerc backyard, Charles had been more than fine with that. If anything, he’d been ecstatic that his best friend trusted him enough to tell him something that big.
His current predicament, however, started about 6 months ago when they moved into an apartment together. Charles had just broken up with his girlfriend and Pierre had been looking for a roommate, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity to fulfill that dream of taking on the world together they had as kids.
After that happened and after a few weeks of settling in, Pierre started bringing home guys. That had never been a problem for Charles before – he’s always known Pierre is the flirty type, he saw him grow up and develop those exact flirting skills. Hell, Pierre even flirts with him sometimes! It had never been been a problem when he knew about Pierre’s hookups conceptually before, but now that he has to actually see the guys, it’s pretty fucking annoying.
It just is – they’re dirty and loud and moan in just the wrong pitch and Pierre always tries to keep Charles from hearing anything, but this apartment is far too small for that.
He’s had to sleep with earplugs many nights already, but yesterday's events had been the last straw for Charles to really consider if he isn’t actually homophobic.
Pierre had been making out with a guy on the couch when Charles arrived early from the office, the stranger sitting in his lap like he belonged there – red sweatshirt, messy brown hair, green eyes that looked at Charles accusingly when he walked in the door.
The man jumped slightly and that was what made Pierre speak. “What’s the matter, babe?”
Babe.
The bile threatened to rise up in Charles’ throat, so he took a split second decision and ran to his room without another word. Leaving them alone would be best, of course, but also because Charles suddenly had to deal with the underbelly of disgust within him. He didn’t want to imagine what that guy was doing to Pierre after, mostly because it made him feel even worse - and this is just a guy he was fooling around with.
It was horrible and it made him terribly guilty, so it also made him wish that Pierre wouldn’t bring the situation up ever again so he wouldn’t have to discuss it – which, clearly, isn’t what happened.
That’s how Charles finds himself right now sitting on the dining table next to Pierre, with a cup of tea in front of him and no means of escape.
“What happened last night?”
“What do you mean what happened last night?” He tries to play dumb, but Pierre is clearly not buying if his raised eyebrow is anything to go by. “Nothing happened, I just wanted to leave you alone to do your thing.”
“Mario said you looked like a deer in the headlights.”
Mario? Horrible name, really. What is he, a plumber? Pierre really could do better, even when looking for hook-ups on Grindr.
“I was just surprised, you know. I didn’t want to invade your, uh – private matters.”
“Private matters? Cha, I was making out with the guy. You saw me do worse things when we sneaked into clubs in high school.”
Charles blushes at the long buried memories. “Still.”
“I mean, I’m sorry,” he says, and looks genuinely apologetic which only makes Charles feel even worse. “I thought you wouldn’t be back for a while, but I assume Sebastian let you go home early.”
“He did, yeah. We finished the plans for the Rosberg house ahead of time.” He scratches the back of his head nervously, trying to urge his brain into thinking of something to say. “And don’t worry, I’m sorry too about running into you two – I’ll be more careful next time.”
Pierre opens his mouth to say something, but Charles interrupts him before he can contradict anything. “And don’t say you’re sorry again. This is your apartment too, you should be allowed to use it.”
The deceitful pleasantries are all he has to offer right now. Even though there’s a hand coiling around his heart that’s telling him you’re a liar, you fucking homophobe, Charles will lie as much as he needs to to avoid hurting Pierre.
“Okay, but congrats on the Rosberg project,” Pierre adds, “I know you have been stressing about it for a while.”
Charles downs his tea and leaves for work with only a quick smile and a thank you in Pierre’s direction, plus a wish for good luck on his day – the more he can shorten this conversation, the better… less Pierre finds out he’s a horrible, horrible person.
He can’t be a homophobe, that’s the thought that torments him the entire subway ride into the office.
He just can’t! He isn’t! Gay people don’t actually disgust him, yesterday was just… a blip. Maybe he just sensed Mario’s bad vibes or something. He has gay friends! Charles is a good person - he is.
Apparently, he even seems so out of it by the time he reaches his desk that even Sebastian, his boss that had been fluttering around to check on everyone’s projects, asks him what’s up.
“I’m fine,” Charles tries to reassure with his brightest smile. “I’m just tired.”
“Trouble at home?” Sebastian asks and he nods to the picture framed on his desk, a shot of him and Pierre on a yacht back home in Monaco.
It hurts that even his fucking boss can sense his unsettledness.
“Not really, just something that’s on me.”
“Fix it then,” he says, but his tone isn’t accusatory. It’s just on the edge of teasing. “Good job on the Rosberg house, by the way.”
“Thank you!” Charles calls as Sebastian walks away.
For the rest of the day, he tries to concentrate on his actual job – drawing up plans and touching up AutoCad files. It’s a repetitive job given that he's started to work on a massive apartment building, but at least it gets him out of his own head.
It works until he’s on the subway back home, inching ever closer to his destination. In a second, the memory of feeling so disgusted he wanted to vomit comes back to Charles, and he has to physically shake his head to try to get it out.
He’s afraid he won’t even be able to look Pierre in the eye when he walks in, but that fear dissipates when Charles finds him standing in the kitchen as he opens the door, the smell of tomato sauce filling the air.
“Hi.” Pierre smiles sweetly. “You’re a bit late, so I thought I’d start on making us pasta for dinner.”
Charles glances at the clock and sees that yeah, he must’ve overstayed at the office by at least half an hour. He didn’t even notice.
“Are you trying to save us from me trying to cook?”
“You’re not that bad,” Pierre tries to say, but his mouth quirks up to the left the same way it always does when he’s lying. After so many years, Charles has learned his tells.
“Yeah, and remember that time I burnt instant ramen?” He raises an eyebrow and warmth envelops him when Pierre starts laughing in earnest at the memory – Charles, 18 and freshly in university, even more prone to cooking disasters than he is now.
“Okay, I’ll concede.”
“Thank you, you’re amazing,” Charles answers then, and rushes to give Pierre a massive hug.
The traitorous guilt in his chest is gone, at least for now. Neither of them are mad and this is Pierre, his best friend in the whole world and the person in whose arms he feels the safest. Charles is not going to stop being his friend because he was grossed out by a rando named Mario.
“Of course I'm amazing,” Pierre remarks as he lets go. “Now go, set the table so we can eat.”
The evening stretches on and on and on, and Pierre and Charles end up playing video games until 3am the same way they did as kids – fighting for the good controller and pushing the loser of every game with a pillow to the face. It feels just like it always does, warm and fuzzy at the edges, so Charles thinks phew, crisis averted.
—
No.
Crisis very much not averted, unfortunately.
The next week, it happens again when Pierre brings home a guy after dinner. Charles doesn’t even hear anything in the beginning since he’s locked in his room catching up on work, but then the power goes out – the music in his headphones stops at the same time he hears unknown laughter coming from the kitchen.
Charles, in turn, gets the irresistible urge to punch a wall.
“Cha? Are you alright?” Pierre calls across the hallway. It’s sweet that his best friend is worrying about him even now, but that doesn’t quell the disgusting feeling in his stomach when he hears the other masculine voice speak again.
“I’m good!” He yells back, “I’ll go check on Lance and see if it’s a building wide issue, yeah?”
“Wait, but I can –”
“It's fine, I can go.” He rushes to put on proper clothes so he can get the hell out of the apartment. “You stay here and enjoy your -” Charles has to stop before he genuinely gags. “- date.”
He speeds out of the fire escape, careful not to cross paths with whoever the fuck Pierre has brought home, and runs up to the top floor where Lance lives - technically their landlord, mostly their friend that lets them live in his dad’s apartment building at a too-cheap rent. Despite Lance also being probably the last person he should go to for advice like this, Charles just needs someone to talk to.
George and Alex are a no-go (at least for now) because isn’t about to tell his friends who are a couple that he’s homophobic, Yuki would just tell Pierre… He could tell Joris at work tomorrow, but that would also mean he’d have to wait, so Lance it is.
When Charles actually gets to knock on the top floor window though, Lance’s face is not the one that appears behind the glass.
Fuck.
The window opens slowly. “Hello?”
“Hi.” The man before him is older, maybe in his early forties, and there’s a hint of a Spanish accent behind his words. Charles has never seen him before, but that’s unsurprising when coming from Lance. “Is Lance home?”
“He went to get us food.” He narrows his eyes. “Are you Charles, his disaster friend? He said you’re the only one that comes in through the fire escape.”
“DISASTER FRIEND?!” Charles squeaks so loud he thinks the entire block must have heard him. “I’m going to kill him.”
“Lovely.” The man opens the window fully with a smug smile, revealing how he’s unsurprisingly shirtless, but at least wearing a pair of green sweatpants. “I’m Fernando, please come in.”
He starts to climb in, but his conscience gets to him at the last second. “Wait, not if I’m interrupting something -”
“No, no,” Fernando reassures and beckons him to the living room couch. It’s only then that Charles realizes the power is perfectly fine in Lance’s apartment. “You look like you could use some help.”
“Maybe?” Admitting it in front of a stranger isn’t his brightest idea really, but Fernando sits down in front of him and gives him the strangest smile, like he’s already 3 steps ahead and knows what he’s going to say. It’s pretty compelling and Charles has always been a weak man - he can tell what Lance sees in this guy.
And anyway, people say talking to a stranger about a problem you can’t solve is sometimes useful - they don’t know you, so they have no basis to judge you on and end up being the most objective.
“I think I might be homophobic,” Charles blurts out, fundamentally disregarding the power thing. It must’ve sorted itself out if Pierre isn’t obsessively calling his phone anyways.
Fernando, like the asshole he apparently is, starts laughing. “Well, that’s a problem.” His eyes twinkle. “Can I ask why you’re saying that? Did something happen with Pierre?”
“Yeah, it’s just that he brought a guy home and I just felt awful, and then it happened again, and then - wait. How do you know about Pierre?” He frowns and looks up to see the cheeky smile that still hasn’t wiped itself from Fernando’s lips.
“You do realize I already knew who you were, right?”
“...Yes?”
“Lance has told me about all of his friends.”
HUH?! Lance might be somewhat of a gossip, sure, but Charles knows he’s not in the habit of telling everything to a random hookup, which means… “And how long have you been with Lance exactly to know these things?”
“Long enough.”
Fernando is saved from further interrogation by the sound of the door opening, so he calls to Lance. “Amor, your disaster friend is here!”
“Oh, hi Charles!” Lance’s tone is deceptively cheery as he drops a pair of take-out bags on the coffee table and sits down in one of the couches. “What’s the matter?”
“Hello, Lance.” Charles narrows his eyes at his friend. “Since when do you have a sugar daddy you tell all of my shit to?”
“Nano isn’t my sugar daddy. If anything, I am his sugar daddy, but he has his own job.”
“And do you have an excuse for the telling him about my shit part?”
“To be fair,” Fernando interrupts, “Lance hasn’t actually told me that much. You are just very easy to read, Charles.” He turns to Lance. “Charles here says he’s homophobic because he felt bad when Pierre brought a guy home.”
Lance’s jaw actually drops at that, keeping silent for a few seconds. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yes!” Charles squeaks, trying to get the attention back to himself. “And I don’t know what the fuck to do, honestly.”
“Charles,” Lance starts, face turning rather serious and still a little disbelieving. “You’re not homophobic. I have genuinely never heard you express an opinion like that ever in your life, even if you’re, uh- the straight one in our group. You’ve literally known Pierre was gay since high school, I assume you would’ve cleared this up by now.”
“Then why did I feel so fucking uncomfortable?”
Fernando tries to open his mouth to say something, but Lance kicks him in the shin where he thinks Charles won’t see, and he is the one to speak instead. “Has this ever happened before with a man Pierre has brought home?”
“No,” Charles answers, but he knows it's a lie as soon as the word leaves his mouth.
When Pierre had gone off to university, a year before Charles himself, he’d come back home for summer break with a boyfriend: Hugo. Charles had spent that entire summer skulking around and being irrationally angry, which he then attributed to sensing how much of an asshole Hugo would end up being when he cheated on Pierre a few months later.
But what if that wasn’t it? Maybe Charles has just been this homophobic asshole all along, wanting to barf when he sees his best friend enjoy himself and who he likes.
“Well, maybe.”
Lance ponders his next words for a second, turning to stare out the window with an exasperated look. Charles can’t blame him, imagining what would happen if one of his friends turned out to be a homophobe while the guy he was seeing was also sitting on the couch. “Cha, considering you’ve never felt that about me or George or Alex, or even Yuki who’s bi, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“You don’t?” Fernando frowns, confused.
“Not really, no,” he confirms, but Charles can see his leg is just about ready to kick Fernando again. “Maybe you should ask like… I don’t know, Reddit.”
Frankly, Charles is a little offended - he’s not that desperate. “You want me to make an Am I The Asshole post, Lance?”
“It could help. I would tell you to ask your brothers in any case, if you don’t want to ask any of us, but Lorenzo is painfully perfect and Arthur is… well, Arthur.”
“Hey! My brother’s great!”
“Yes, Charles, but he’s also like… 23. He doesn’t know much of anything.”
Charles takes a moment to think about it, but concedes because he knows what he’s doing right now is basically his next best option.
“Or you could just talk to Pierre. Like an adult,” Fernando says, but Charles blushes so hard at it that Lance takes advantage of the silence to change the subject.
“Okay, do you want to stay up here for dinner?”
—
By the time he actually climbs down to his own apartment a couple of hours later, the guy is gone and the power is back on, with Pierre dozing off on the couch in front of the window.
“Hi,” Pierre says, opening his eyes and smiling softly when he hears Charles land on the floor. “I thought you’d never come back.”
“Weren’t you busy?” Charles tries to joke, but Pierre shakes his head.
“For you, baby? Never.” He pats the space on the couch next to him. “C’mon, tell me what’s up with Lance. Did you get an answer on the power thing?”
“No about the power since it was already back when I got up there, but I can tell you Lance is hooking up with a forty-something.”
Pierre laughs, sweet and loud. “Unsurprising, really. Is he hot?”
“Yes, I think?” Fernando is attractive enough, he figures. If he were into men, Charles thinks Fernando wouldn’t be his type though - someone younger, softer. He’s always liked blue eyes.
“Good for him, then.” Pierre smiles and Charles tries to brace himself for his next question, do you want to hear about my date? He has to think on the spot for an answer that isn’t fuck no.
The question never comes, though. “Do you want to watch a movie now? I’m not really sleepy and I assume you already ate, or, uh- I can make you something.”
Charles pushes him with his shoulder teasingly. “It’s okay, mama bear. We can watch a movie, but only if I get to pick it.”
“Fine.” Pierre rolls his eyes. “But no depressing dramas!”
“We can compromise,” he answers with a cheeky smile as he sinks into the cushions. “So no rom-coms.”
“I hate you.”
“Nah, you don’t.”
At least for the next two hours, he can just be in his best friend’s company without Fernando’s words pounding in his head.
Or you could just talk to Pierre. Like an adult.
Charles falls asleep to the drumming noise of the TV and the swirling thoughts in him, cuddled in Pierre’s arms.
The next day, there’s a moment when his brain brings up Fernando’s words again: they’re having dinner with Yuki and the absolute asshole asks about Pierre’s date.
“How did it go with that guy you told me about the other day - Jack, was it?”
Charles assumes his tone is supposed to be normal, but he feels there’s a mocking edge to it – it’s almost like Yuki senses his discomfort.
“It was fine,” Pierre answers, nonchalant, “nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Yuki insists, and this time he has the audacity to glance at Charles, as if asking him to react.
“No, I doubt it. He got freaked out when he even heard Charles existed, so it’s not worth it.”
Charles feels a jolt in his chest that he wasn’t expecting, and it only intensifies when Pierre smiles at him.
“Careful, Charles will start thinking he’s your priority.”
“Of course,” Pierre says and it hits Charles like a punch to the gut, because he knows he’s being such a fucking asshole about this. “Cha has always been my favorite.”
“Ugh,” Yuki groans, “I hate you two so much - so cheesy, get over yourselves.”
Pierre grins and blows Charles a kiss, an image that lodges itself in the deepest parts of his brain. “Never.”
—
In reality, Charles knows he should actually either follow through with Lance’s advice or with Fernando’s: he should be cowering and asking for help from the internet, or facing his fears like an adult.
The problem, though, is that he doesn’t want to do either of those things, so he keeps pushing it back… and back… and back…
In the meantime, Pierre keeps bringing guys home.
He doesn’t do it that often, maybe once every two weeks at most, but it makes Charles feel guiltier and guiltier each time as he finds different ways to escape the house until they leave - a horrible reminder of the monster growing inside of him.
Charles himself tries to bring a couple of girls home after that, picking them up at the bar on those rare nights when their entire friend group agrees to go out. Pierre encourages him even, pushing him to talk to them ‘if that’s what he feels like doing’, smiling softly even if he doesn’t look that happy, and it’s not like it’s bad.
The girls are perfectly lovely one night stands - all very pretty and different from each other, despite the fact that they have the same pair of startling blue eyes. Charles likes to think he’s a gentleman and they seem perfectly happy when they leave the apartment the next morning, but… he knows there’s still something bothering him. He won’t be able to enjoy these things fully until he fixes the gnawing sense of wrongness growing inside him.
It all comes to a head one inconspicuous day as Charles is getting back home from work, only because he manages to catch a guy on his way out in the hallway.
Charles has always imagined Pierre probably invited guys over when he was at work, given that his job as a photographer has much more flexible hours than his 9 to 5 at the architecture firm, and that leaves him alone in the apartment for much longer. Actually seeing it though, given his current predicament, is much more difficult.
He stomps back into the apartment, finding a shirtless Pierre standing in the kitchen. Inside, Charles is screaming.
“Oh, hi calamar, I didn’t think you’d be back before -”
“It’s fine,” he snaps, and it comes out much harsher than intended based on how it startles Pierre.
“Hey, hey.” Pierre tries to touch his arm reassuringly, but Charles flinches at the contact. “What happened?”
The words leave his mouth before he can manage to stop them. “I ran into your guy on the way out, you should be more careful next time.”
“My guy?” Pierre frowns, dropping his arms. “What the fuck, Charles? Didn’t you say I shouldn’t feel guilty about using my apartment too?”
“Yes, but - It’s just that -”
“But what?” He looks properly angry now, walking closer to Charles. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I sleep with other guys? Why are you only saying this now?”
“No!” Yes. “Of course not!” It makes me feel even worse than uncomfortable.
“Then why on Earth are you being an asshole?”
“I’m not! I’m just saying you should be more mindful of working hours.”
“You are being a fucking asshole, don’t delude yourself. I wasn’t complaining when you brought girls home from the club and I was on the next Uber over.”
“Oh well, that’s just unfair.” He tries to walk off, backing up into the wall even though Pierre is only coming closer to him. “It’s not the same.”
“Why is it not the same?” There’s something behind his crystal blue eyes that seems broken, and for once Charles is well and truly scared – his secret is out. Pierre knows he is a terrible fucking person. “Why, Charles?”
“No, no. You know I didn’t mean that, I’m just tired and –”
“Charles.” The sharp set of Pierre’s jaw hasn’t gone away. “I’m going to Yuki’s for tonight to cool off, before this turns into something it doesn’t have to. Just – don’t make it worse, okay?”
“Pear –”
“Don’t Pear me.” He sounds truly in pain, and all Charles wants to do is hold him tight in his arms and cry for forgiveness. He’s so sorry, he’s so fucking sorry. “I just have one question.”
“Yes?”
“You’ll be okay if I sleep with him as long as I do it at his place and not ours, right?”
He doesn’t leave Charles any time to answer, just walks off and slams the door in his face.
—
AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend?
First of all, I swear I have never been a discriminatory person – I have lots of gay friends and my little brother is bisexual. I know that sounds stupid as hell but it’s my only defense right now.
My problem is that I (Marc, 26M, straight) have a roommate (Jacques, 28M, gay), who has also been my best friend since we were kids, and I think I’ve started to feel homophobic towards him?
It all started when I caught Jacques making out with a guy on the couch and I just felt so horrible I wanted to vomit. He brings guys home to sleep with sometimes and that’s perfectly okay – conceptually, I think.
I tried to ask for help from some friends after that first time, but their conclusions were basically: talk to Jacques or ask on Reddit. As you can see, I’m taking option 2 right now.
Seeing him actually be gay had never made me uncomfortable before, but every time I’ve caught him with a guy/heard one in the apartment since, I’ve just felt so disgusted and horrible. I know I have no reason to be reacting so strongly, you don’t have to tell me twice.
Yesterday I caught a guy on the way out, and I was just tired from work so I snapped at him. I told him to be more mindful of my working hours, and he just said I was being an asshole because I told him once that he shouldn’t feel guilty for using our apartment for sex. He said he wasn’t complaining when I brought girls home from the club (I’ve done it a couple of times, but not often and not for a while), so I shouldn’t be complaining either. Then, I told him it wasn’t the same and Jacques got even more mad.
He said he was going to one of our friend’s houses to cool off and, before he left, he asked if I minded if he slept with our friend as long as they did it at his place and not ours. After he said that, I felt sick to my stomach and haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.
Jacques hasn’t come back home since, despite the fact that he's supposed to hang out with me and my brother and he hasn’t blown me off once in almost twenty years of friendship.
How do I deal with this? I’m okay with other gay people as long as it’s not Jacques, apparently. I want to get over myself but I don’t know how. The last thing I want to do is hurt my best friend, but I feel like I already have. Does anyone have experience with this? Can anyone help me?
tl;dr: My roommate and childhood bff is gay, I am not but I’ve started to feel horrible when I see him with other guys so I think I’m homophobic and it’s made us start fighting. How do I stop being an asshole?
~~~
COMMENTS:
wolfiemcwolferson: Are you sure that weird feeling isn’t jealousy? Because it seems to only involve Jacques, NAH but it’s tricky
tifosoboy16: I thought about that, but am I meant to be jealous of his sex life? He definitely has a more active one than I do, but that would just be irrational.
yukierres: Yeah, but maybe you don’t like seeing him with other people because you want his attention to yourself?
your-littlesecret: YTA but it’s fixable, just apologize and……… maybe reconsider your sexuality
duquesademiel: YTA but not why you think. marc, i’m pretty sure you have a crush on your best friend.
ifyoudontknow: agreed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
—
Pierre doesn’t come back that day.
He doesn’t come back the next day either, at least not before he was supposed to go to the movies with Charles and Arthur.
“Hey, bro, where’s Pierre?” Arthur asks as he walks into his room like he owns the place.
He’s wearing jeans and an old sweatshirt Charles thinks used to be his, glasses perched on his nose – Arthur looks perfect for going out in polite society, even if it’s just to the mall. Charles, instead, is still in his pajamas and in bed as he wallows in his own misery laying on the couch, desperately trying to figure out how to approach Pierre to get him to come back.
“Dude, what happened?”
“We fought last night,” Charles answers, voice coming out squeaky and weak. “He’s gone to Yuki’s.”
“And he blew us off? The bastard…” Charles had been Pierre’s friend for their entire lives, and he has never blown him off, not even once – until today. Until his brain decided to start rejecting his closest friend.
“He thinks I’m homophobic.”
Arthur tilts his head to the side, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Why would he think that? Because you aren’t, so –”
“No, I am homophobic, I think,” Charles explains. At least his brother deserves to know the truth. “Every time he brings a guy home, I feel horrible and want to vomit. I just want them to go away – that’s what it means, right? I’m a horrible homophobic dick and Pierre has every right to be mad at me.”
“Oh, Cha.” Arthur’s eyes soften and there’s no anger in them now, only pity. “I don’t think that’s what’s going on.”
“Then what is?”
“Charles –”
“No, tell me, I’m genuinely desperate. I made a fucking Reddit post about it.”
“You made a what?” He deadpans. “Jesus, Charles, give me your phone.” He opens the app and scans the start of the article quickly, scrolling down to see the comments. “Okay, I see.”
Arthur pulls Charles up into a sitting position by the neck of his t-shirt, plopping down next to him. When he actually starts to speak, his expression is kinder than Charles has seen in a while. “You are an oblivious motherfucker, and you’re being incredibly dumb about this.”
“But –”
“Have you even read the comments? I mean, I know you have because you answered one of them, but still.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Charles could say those people don’t know me, but he knows that’s not a valid excuse. That was the entire point of asking Reddit, in the end, and also of confessing to Fernando in the first place – someone with no context to judge him.
“I think they’re right,” Arthur answers, mouth pursed into a straight line. “And if you pressure him enough, Lolo will admit he agrees too… and maman too, but she’s never been subtle about that.”
It feels like a bucket of ice cold water has just been dumped on Charles’ head, freezing him into place with his jaw dropped.
I think they’re right, Arthur says, so nonchalantly, like it’s the simplest thing in the world and not… trying to turn Charles’ entire life upside down.
At his brother’s prolonged silence, Arthur continues. “Do you remember the summer Pierre brought Hugo home? You were horrible, moody and prissy the whole time.”
“You were a kid, I don’t think you even noticed.”
“I was fifteen, not five - of course I noticed, you weirdo.” His lips upturn into a sad smile. “You’re my brother and I didn’t want you to be upset, even if you were incredibly annoying.” He teasingly pushes Charles as he chuckles. Charles himself still feels like he can’t breathe, but it’s a little lighter now. “What you’re describing here -” He points at the phone. “- feels a little like it was back then. We had a lot of family conversations about you being jealous that summer.”
“What did -” The lump in his throat prevents him from finishing his sentence, but he can tell Arthur understands. What did papa think?
“He said that maybe we were right, but that you’d have to figure it out on your own, and – well, papa was very wise, but I’ve never been good at letting these things go, so. You can just tell me if I’m wrong, but…”
Charles knows he has no leg to stand on here – Arthur isn’t actually wrong. That anger he remembers from being a hormonal teenager… there’s a lot of that rising to the surface now, ever since he ran into Pierre making out with Mario. That guilty, aggressive feeling in his chest he dismissed so much back then is only coming back now.
“I’ve never had a crush on a guy before,” is all his lips can articulate as his mind starts to rearrange upon itself. It’s not quite a defense and not quite an admission either, though it makes Arthur’s smile turn from sad to teasing.
“Bro, if you think I’m right, then I don’t think what you feel for Pierre can be considered just a crush. I can prove it.” He straightens up, pretending to hold a microphone to his face as if he was a quiz show presenter. “Question 1, do you love Pierre?”
“Of course I love him, what kind of question is that?” Regardless of the how, Charles knows that’s a universal truth that will never go away..
“Question 2, do you like to spend time with him?”
“He’s my best friend.”
Arthur rolls his eyes. “Question 3, do you feel possessive about him?”
In any other circumstance, Charles would’ve said no, but… he knows he has nowhere to hide now. There is a lot of possessiveness in his anger, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it - not wanting to imagine what the guys were doing with him, to him always went beyond disgust. “Yes.”
A mischievous smile forms on Arthur’s lips. “Question 4, do you like cuddling on the couch with him on the couch after a long day, inevitably traumatizing your little brother when he walks in the room?”
“Arthur!”
“What?!” He laughs smugly. “It’s happened enough times that I legally have to ask.”
It hasn’t happened that many times, Charles thinks, but then he remembers they used to doze off on the couch every Friday after gym class when they were still in school, and Arthur would run into them almost always.
He remembers what happened after he visited Lance and Fernando, despite Arthur not having seen that.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Answer me, dude. Do you like cuddling with him? I mean, physical touch.”
Charles does, honestly. Something about being wrapped up in Pierre’s arms has always calmed him down, ever since they were kids and they fell asleep cuddled up together because they were scared of the monsters in the dark.
Being in Pierre’s arms has always felt like home.
“Yeah.”
Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Do you want me to keep going? Because I think you know where I’m going next.”
“No, it’s… fine.” He doesn’t want Arthur to ask ‘are you attracted to Pierre?’, because at this point he knows he has to answer with an uncomfortable truth.
A rush of memories come speeding back to him – staring at Pierre’s naked chest for too long during beach vacations, sneaking a glance at him in dirty changing rooms, looking at his arms too long when they went karting and he had to wear those tight shirts. He remembers how Pierre had looked at Lorenzo’s wedding not too long ago, when Charles had looked at him in his dark blue suit and thought oh.
Charles has never actually ever… allowed himself to think about a man like this, but then the pieces start slotting together in his mind like a twisted puzzle and he knows he can’t deny it to himself. It’s like a veil is being lifted from his eyes, recontextualizing a lifetime of moments in a way that makes his heart speed up dangerously quickly.
Clearly, that’s not what his face is transmitting, because Arthur snaps his fingers in front of his eyes and whines, “Hey, are you still with me?”
“I’m good.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You went silent for over a minute, bro. Did I break you?”
“...maybe a little bit.” Charles tries to give his brother his best possible smile. “I think I just need some time to think about it.”
“Do you want me to go? I’ll just go back home if you want to be alone, don’t worry about it at all.” Arthur looks genuinely concerned and Charles is glad he has a brother like him, even if he has an unfortunate tendency to trigger existential crises.
“No, it’s fine – we already paid for our tickets and everything, Pierre will just waste his money.” He punches Arthur’s shoulder teasingly, but he doesn’t seem very convinced. “I’ll be fine, Art, I swear.”
—
Charles spends most of the movie in a sort of daze – only briefly getting brought back to reality by the sounds of people screaming at the jumpscares on screen.
(They were watching a horror movie, picked specifically by Pierre, which just made everything a little bit worse.)
The plot flies way above Charles’ head, and he ends up focusing more on just looking at the male actors.
Is he attracted to them? Well, Charles knows they are attractive. He wonders about whether he’d like touching them, kissing them – surprisingly, he finds he’s not against it. Not at all.
The thing is that Charles looks at them and all he can conclude is that none of them could compare to Pierre. They are all very lovely, but Charles thinks about Pierre’s eyes and gets butterflies in his stomach he hasn’t felt for a million years.
It’s fucking terrifying.
The hazy liminal space as they get out of the cinema itself hits Charles especially because of that, trying to blink out the brightness of the mall’s lights as his heart pounds in his chest.
“Cha?”
“I’m fine,” he reassures, “I’ll go get us some food, you just find us a seat and wait there.”
Charles walks towards the food court in a daze, thinking about how ridiculous it is that he’s having a sexuality crisis while he’s ordering fucking burgers. He rattles his and Arthur’s orders by muscle memory, and he tries his best to ignore it when he gets weird looks from the attendants.
“Charles, seriously,” Arthur asks when Charles plops down in the booth he’d chosen, “are you really okay?”
The words come stumbling out of his lips before he can stop them. “Am I in love with Pierre?”
“I don’t know, are you? Did I send you into a sexuality crisis?” He keeps a serious expression, but Charles can tell he’s doing a pretty poor job of avoiding a smile. “You’re going to have to tell me.”
“I hate you.” Charles sighs. “But I think I might be.”
“Great, now what are you going to do about it?”
He gasps. “Wait, what do you mean what am I going to do about it? Nothing! Obviously nothing! I’m not going to fuck up my friendship even more, I’ve already made enough mistakes.” He looks to the side, thinking. “Do you think Lorenzo would let me move in with him? I would ask you but I feel like I wouldn’t be welcome in university housing, even as an alumnus.”
“Charles!” Arthur kicks his shin as he frowns. “Are you kidding?”
“No!”
“Dude, I’m sorry that I have to reaffirm my place as the smartest Leclerc brother, but I’m pretty sure Pierre loves you too.”
“You have no way of -”
“Oh, be so serious.” He attempts to throw a french fry at his face, but misses horribly. “I’m not going to be speaking for Pierre here, but if that were me, I wouldn’t bring up other times you brought girls home – not if I wasn’t trying to make you a little jealous.”
“But he was like – encouraging. Wouldn’t he have tried to stop me back then?”
“Think about it, Cha – he was probably just trying to be a good friend, if he thought that’s what you wanted. Did he even sleep in the apartment when you did that?”
No.
Now that he thinks about it, he notices the answer is no – Pierre escaped to Yuki’s or George and Alex’s every single time.
“Ah, I see you’re getting it.” Arthur smiles smugly to himself when Charles’ expression changes. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
“Oh my god, Arthur. I feel like you should give me a little more time to process,” Charles complains, but he knows he’s doing it for nothing because – he’s not as overwhelmed as he should be.
If anything, the thought of being in love with Pierre, the thought of his sexuality not being exactly what he thought it was for years should terrify him, but Charles is surprisingly calm by the end of the conversation. The only thing that continues to scare him is what Arthur keeps insisting he does: talking to Pierre.
“Take whatever time you need, but –” He raises an accusatory eyebrow. “– talk to him. Pierre adores you, no matter in which way, and you won’t want him to think you’re a homophobic monster. You don’t have to confess your feelings, just clear things up.”
“Ugh, when did you become so wise? This is literally what Lance’s sugar daddy told me a while ago.”
“I told you, I am the smartest Leclerc!” He cheers. “And wait, what do you mean Lance’s sugar daddy? Isn’t Lance super fucking rich?”
—
It starts to rain when they get out of the mall and by the time they make it back to Charles’ apartment, Pierre’s umbrella is standing up at the door.
“Uh, do you want me to go?” Arthur asks, hesitating on the threshold. “I can just leave you alone.”
He takes a deep breath – Charles can hear the television droning on in the living room and he knows he has to make a decision.
“...I’ll call you later?”
Arthur grins. “Great. Don’t kill each other, use protection and all that.”
Before he heads to the elevator though, Charles calls for him. “Hey, wait – thank you, Arthur.”
“No need to thank me.” His smile is painfully sincere. “Go, do your thing, Cha. Tell Pierre I said hi, and that I’ll kill him if he blows us off again.”
“Fine, goodbye asshole.” Charles turns and opens the door slowly, a little scared of what he might find on the other side. As soon as the couch comes into his line of sight though, he sees Pierre has already turned around to look at him.
“Hi,” he says. He looks tired, bundled up in a giant hoodie, and his eyes look glassy – almost as if he had been crying. “I’m sorry for yelling at you and for not coming back later. And for standing you and Arthur up, I’m sure he was pretty mad.” He chuckles sadly. “Tell him sorry for me.”
“You can tell him that yourself,” Charles answers, no bite to it at all. “And I’m sorry too, truly. You’re right, I was being a total hypocrite - this apartment belongs to you as much as it does to me, and you’re free to use it however you like. Just… disregard me if I ever bring that up again, because -” - I’m jealous? - I’m in love with you? Charles has to swallow his words to avoid finishing that sentence. “I don’t want you to think it’s because you’re gay either, because it’s nothing like that.” He can say this confidently now. “I supported you when we were kids, and I’ll support you now.”
Pierre’s smile is still a little stilted. “Thanks, Cha. I really needed to hear that.” A pause where he plays with the sleeves of his hoodie, looking away. “Not like I was doubting you or whatever, but I mean that, uh, I believe you but what you said was -”
The rambling is so sweet that Charles can’t hold back a laugh. “It’s okay, I get it. Can we just start over?”
He flashes a bigger smile now, bright and sincere, as he stands up and holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Pierre, I’m 28, do you want to be my friend?”
“Not that much of a restart.” Charles giggles, but he still takes Pierre’s hand. The electric current that runs through his body is unexpected, but not entirely unfamiliar, even when it comes to Pierre. Touching him feels the same as it always has, Charles can just see what it means clearly now. “But yeah, I’d love to be your friend.”
Pierre pulls him forward to sit back on the couch next to him. When the laughter dies down, his voice is small. “I don’t like fighting with you. I’ll, uh- be more careful.”
“No, Pear. I don’t like fighting with you either, I’ll be less of a fucking dick, it’s - fine.” He chokes on that last word - telling him the truth would be too much right now, far too much. “You’re fine. Are we fine?”
“We’re perfect. Now, tell me, is Arthur actually going to kill me?”
“Maybe, the movie was kind of shit anyway.” Not like I was paying much attention to it, I was mostly looking at the shirtless men, is what he stops himself from saying. “He’ll be happy if we just give him an extra beer the next time he comes over, but he’ll whine about it.”
“That’s what I expected from our little family baby, honestly.” Charles smiles and hopes that can cover up the rush of emotion he feels when hearing Pierre say the words our baby. It’s stupid and insane and irrational, but suddenly it doesn’t feel like the craziest idea in the world anymore. “I’ll text him later.”
There’s a moment of comfortable silence, even if Charles is still nervous, adrenaline through the roof. “I have to ask though, where did you go yesterday?”
“I tried to go to Yuki’s but he was out for the night, so I just climbed up to Lance’s place.”
“You were in the building the whole time?”
Pierre scratches the back of his head in embarrassment. “I was. At least I finally got to meet Fernando - weird guy, but he seems perfect for Lance.”
“I know, right!?”
“And he gives pretty good advice.” Pierre chuckles fondly and Charles feels the most nonsensical twist of jealousy he’s ever felt in his life – it’s a wonder he didn’t notice he was in love with Pierre sooner if he reacts like this.
In love. Charles is still impressed by his brain’s ability to admit that, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Why, what did he say?”
“He said I should talk to you like an adult, and clear up that you were not an asshole really.”
“Huh.” He hopes and prays that his face isn’t betraying what he’s thinking right now, his head replaying the scene of Fernando saying to him again and again. With every second that passes, Charles realizes that maybe Fernando had noticed something back then, even without knowing him or Pierre.
Maybe, even unconsciously, everyone has been trying to push them together the entire time.
Still – Charles knows he has to pull away, at least for right now.
“Smart guy.”
—
It takes two whole weeks for Charles to bring it up.
Two weeks of hesitating and being mostly normal with Pierre – they go about their normal routines, play and joke around, but the metaphorical sword of their fight keeps hanging over their heads. Charles can tell Pierre is tiptoeing about the subject of dating or even attraction at all, and it only works to make him more nervous.
“What about that guy you had met at work?” Yuki asks Pierre, on one of those rare afternoons when their schedules line up for them to take their lunch breaks together, something that hasn’t happened in a while.
He scoffs at the thought – avoidant, Charles knows. “No, nothing. What about you though? What’s up with that Nyck guy?”
Yuki blushes and the conversation flies away, but Charles catches a fleeting second when Pierre flashes him a brilliant smile, twinkling with mischief. I love you almost rolls off his lips unconsciously and, though he knows it would’ve probably gone unnoticed since he’s told Pierre he loves him a million times over the years, that’s the moment when Charles decides he needs to confess his feelings.
Dragging it on any longer would just be unnecessary, because the longer he waits, the more likely it would be that Pierre would start bringing guys home again and maybe even date then, maybe even become their boyfriend. That would just make the entire cycle start up again, Charles knows - he’d get angry and jealous and they’d fight, when in reality the last thing he wants to do is hurt Pierre.
“Clearly I’m the best at it, Charles will agree. Right, Charlie?” The sound of Yuki’s voice brings him back down to reality.
Despite not having any context about what they’re actually talking about, Charles answers on instinct. “No, Pierre is the best.”
“I’m very flattered,” Pierre answers with a pleased smile, “but we’re talking about making the best breakfast. I’m not sure I could beat the actual chef, but thanks Cha.”
“Breakfast? How did we get from the Nyck guy to talking about breakfast?”
Yuki frowns and flicks a loose crumb at his plate. “Maybe if you paid more attention, you would know.”
Charles knows he should probably tease Yuki back, but he’s mesmerized by Pierre’s resounding chuckle.
“I hate you so much,” Yuki groans with astounding familiarity when he catches his eye.
It’s a scene he’s lived through a million times before, but Charles is only now realizing what it actually means.
He thinks about that last moment with Yuki for the rest of the day, replays all the times he’s been playfully exasperated with Pierre’s relentless flirting with Charles and notices that maybe, probably, most likely, Yuki had arrived at the same conclusion Lance and Fernando had.
He thinks about it so much that Sebastian even rolls up to his desk to check up on his work. “Are you doing alright, Charles?
Yes, of course I’m fucking fine, he almost snaps, but ultimately catches himself. He likes his job, and Sebastian is not actually to blame for him having extreme romantic revelations during work hours.
As soon as Sebastian leaves though, Charles goes back to his wondering - has everyone known he’s been in love with Pierre this entire time?
He’s still at it by the time he makes it back home that night, when he finds Pierre cuddled up on the couch and browsing Netflix.
“Hi there, working man.”
“Hello, you lazy bum,” Charles shoots back as he drops his work bag and falls down on the couch. Regardless of how nervous he is or how many revelations he has, he knows this thing between them - the comfortable teasing, the jokes - won’t change… or, at least, that’s what he hopes. “Are we watching a movie?”
“Uh, well - if you don’t mind a rewatch, they uploaded the movie that I stood you up for.” Pierre smiles apologetically and Charles just wants to squeeze him in his arms, reassuring him that he’s forgiven, that Charles himself is the asshole here. “Do you mind?”
He loosens up his body and lays his head on Pierre’s shoulder - the contact is electric. “That’s okay, play whatever you want.”
Unsurprisingly, as a consequence of his long day at work, Charles falls asleep.
He wakes up with the credits of the movie playing on the TV and a blanket placed carefully over his legs, the smell of dinner cooking coming from the kitchen.
“Pear?” He tries to call, but his voice comes out raspy and strained.
“Hey.” Pierre walks out into the living room grinning and with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder, as if he was a proper chef - it’s stupid, how hot he looks. “Look who’s the lazy bum now, huh.”
Charles wants to throw a pillow at him, but he’s too tired to even move. “You’re the worst.”
“Nah, it’s okay. You have already seen the movie, it’s fine. I can’t believe you didn’t wake up with any of the jumpscares though, I think I screamed at one point.”
That gets a smile out of him. “Did you like it?”
“It was good.” Pierre takes a deep breath when he sits back down next to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t go with you the first time.”
“It’s alright,” Charles answers, and he’s surprised to see that he’s being honest. “Arthur and I had a good talk.”
“About?”
“You and I fighting.” There’s a burst of confidence that fills him as he speaks. “I even made a Reddit post for advice, Pear. I was that desperate.”
Pierre cackles and it’s the sweetest sound Charles has ever heard. “Reddit?! Oh my god, let me see it.” He rips the phone out of Charles’ hand when he offers and unlocks it easily - they’ve always had each other’s passwords.
As he finds the Reddit app and reads through the post, Charles can see how his expression changes and goes from amusement to confusion a million times. When he gets to reading the comments, Pierre actually gasps. “Interesting theories from the redditors,” he says, mouth set in a hard line and jaw tight.
Charles has a split second decision to make: tell him the truth (Arthur agrees with them and so do I) or keep avoiding it like he’s done for the past two weeks. He could take the easy way out, but he also knows that would mean he would keep having to deal with the fear that is filling him right now when he looks at Pierre’s cold stare.
Despite the adrenaline running through his veins, Charles goes with option 1.
“Arthur said he thought they were right.” Silence fills the room, enough that Charles can hear Pierre’s breathing hitch - it gives him something like hope. “He made me think about some stuff, because the asshole somehow became wise without us noticing.”
“Things like what?” Pierre asks, voice painfully hesitant.
“Like… maybe they were right. Maybe I was jealous and didn’t know how to express it, because -” He chokes on his own words, but he knows he can’t stop now. If he does, he’ll never actually say it. “Pear, I’ve never felt like that before, so… angry, and angry at nothing because you don’t belong to me, but maybe I want you to. Maybe I’ve been in love with you this whole time and I was too stupid to notice.”
“Maybe?” Pierre echoes, and only now Charles realizes that his eyes are filled with tears. “Only maybe?”
“No. I am in love with you, and you don’t have to say anything back because I’ve been a dick but -”
Pierre cuts him off with a kiss. The moment their lips touch, the only thought running through Charles’ head is to wonder how the hell he’s been so blind to not notice what was right in front of him the entire time.
It’s his first time kissing a man, yes, but that doesn’t matter when it’s his first time kissing Pierre - the taste of his lips and the touch of his body is comforting instead of unfamiliar, in a way Charles hadn’t expected.
“Calamar,” Pierre whispers when they have to separate to take a breath. “None of them have ever compared to you - I need you to know that. I just never thought that -”
“- I would love you back?”
Pierre shakes his head and their noses brush, sending butterflies flying in Charles’ stomach and he thinks that he might not survive having all of Pierre if a simple touch feels like this. It’s exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
“Never in a million years.”
“I think I’ve loved you for a long time, maybe forever,” Charles confesses, earning himself another kiss. “I just didn’t know what it was.”
“I’ve loved you for a long time too.” Pierre looks at him, eyes wide and pleading and soft. “We’ve been very dumb, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” Charles concedes. He takes Pierre’s hand and intertwines their fingers, squeezing tightly. “Mostly me, thinking I was super straight, but I’ll work on it.”
“Are you happy to know you’re not homophobic?” Pierre teases, and the sound of his chuckles loosens the tension in Charles’ shoulders. When he turns his head, Pierre drops a kiss on the edge of his jaw. “Tell me, Cha.”
“You know, you should be more careful with teasing me now.” He smiles at Pierre’s confused frown. “Because I can refuse kisses now.”
“Oh no.” Pierre burrows his face in the junction of his neck and Charles thinks he’s going to die from the overwhelming feeling. “I’ve given you too much power.”
“You should’ve been more careful,” Charles tries to continue, but his voice sounds too small and Pierre leaves his neck to look right into his eyes.
“I’m in love with you too, by the way,” Pierre adds with his cheeky fucking smile. “In case that wasn’t clear - you never have to worry about me bringing home anyone else.”
“I despise you.”
Pierre kisses him again, swallowing his laughter. “No, you don’t.”
—
AITA: homophobic but only to my roommate/best friend? [UPDATE]
Okay, so.
I ended up going out with just my brother that day and showed him the original post, and he basically said “yeah, they’re right and you’re fucking stupid” which was… a surprise, but I feel like it was needed. He reminded me how I acted when Jacques brought his first boyfriend home from university - much like I was doing recently.
Like any older sibling, I don’t like admitting my little brother is right, but he definitely was. He helped me realize I was maybe not as straight as I once was, and that conversation also helped me notice that most of our friends knew this too. Without explicitly pushing me, my loved ones had all been trying to guide me into the right direction.
My brother said I should tell Jacques this because, in his words, Jacques was ‘trying to make me a little jealous’. Even though it took me a while, I eventually did show him the original post and confessed what I felt.
We kissed (!!!!!!!) (plot twist: I don’t have a problem with Jacques kissing other guys if it’s me he’s kissing) and talked for a while, when we realized we’ve both just been in love with each other forever and we were just running around in circles trying to find other people.
Considering that apparently our entire social circle was waiting for this already, I’m not afraid of how they’re going to take me being bisexual - I’m only scared of the teasing that’s going to come our way.
Happy endings all around in the end, so thank you Reddit! I couldn’t have done it without you all, apparently.
tl;dr: Talked to my best friend about me being jealous and bisexual instead of actually homophobic, we kissed and now we’re dating. I think. (There’s another conversation to be had, but it’s okay.)
~~~
COMMENTS:
frickinsweet: OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD 😍😍😍😍😍 I’M OBSESSED
golden-fairylights: gayest possible ending 10/10
welightitup: Agreed!!!
singsweetmelodies: best case scenario
wolfiemcwolferson: WE WERE RIGHT???
your-littlesecret: YEAH
duquesademiel: YEAH
al_14monaco: u should thank me too
tifosoboy16: 🙄🙄🙄
tifosoboy16: i’ll thank you at the wedding
al_14monaco: WEDDING???????? i’m surprised we even though u were straight if u’re already jumping to that
pg10_16: I love you, calamar.
tifosoboy16: I love you too ❤️