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It's not even real, is it? The feelings? Of course, I'd never know. Feeling this, thinking that... all a blur... does he actually like me? You'd think... but this is a freezing safe house that were stuck at for three more weeks...
"Gary...?" I hear. Fuck...
"Yeah?" I look over, Simon stands tall in the doorway, shadow looming in the morning light.
"You... want to talk about it." He states. He knows, of course he fucking knows... and he's awkward about it too.
"I... ok." I sign. I motion for him to sit beside me, the bed weighing down as he does. His thumbs fiddle with eachother, like a little fight to ease the tension hanging obvious in the air. The pause is heavy and known, neither of us wanting to speak up.
"I thought it was nice." He breaks the silence with words I can barely put together. Nice? He... liked it. did he? Is he lying?
"You're thinking too much." He mumbles.
"Stop." I sign, feeling of confusion, hope and anxiety rattling my systems; overwhelming me. I take a breath.
"Stop. I need... to think. I need to think."
"It really was." He continues. "I felt less... alone. You were there, we were cold, and it was good. Johnny always liked you too..."
"But you're together! I can't just join that's not how it works... im not gay. I'm not." I sign deflecting, trying to convince myself. The immediate change of expression on his face is incredibly noticeable.
"Gary..." He tries. "You can't keep telling yourself that. You came out to me last year, and I know it was hard, but you can't just force it down because other people hate it–"
"Stop! I'm not. It's... over. It was a phase and it's over." I sign, remaining hard in denial. Suddenly, he pulls me into his lap, which I immediately struggle with.
"Love, you can't keep doing this..." He whispers.
"Stupid british bitch! I'm fine, get off me!" I yell, no longer signing. Tears spring from my eyes. I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm fine I'm fine I don't need this. He pulls me tight to his chest, trying to get me to calm him down while I sob.
"Gary... fuck... it's ok, it's alright, its not bad, it's not. You're ok." He reassures me, petting my hair. My hands grip his shirt like a child holding onto a parent, scared and small. Tears soak his clothes while I tremble into his chest.
"I've got you Bugs, it's alright. It's not wrong. It's not bad. Me 'n John 'ave been trying to tell you this, but ye don't listen, love. I promise it's not wrong. 'F it was then you wouldn't even be here. Jus' calm down, jus' breathe." His british accent is low and soft, tracing my chest up and down with my breaths.
"'M sorry..." I choke out.
"No, no... don't be sorry. No apologies, love, none. You needed this, an' it's ok, alright?" He mumbles. I cuddle further into his chest, burrowing like a little animal. He holds me tight, knowing I needed this.
"When we get back from this I'll get John, alright?" He murmurs, "He'll love you too, promise."
"... thank you" I whisper.
"Its ok, Bugs.
"Love you..." I whisper.
"I know, love."