Chapter Text
Hank was sitting in his living room, his own house, with nobody but him. He liked his quieter life after college, he never got into any huge football teams and he never got to go out with his old roommate. No matter how different the two were, Hank truly did love Francis. But he was scared to say something, scared the guys on the football team would see him differently, scared of what his parents would say, scared about going to hell for it.
He started drinking wine, odd right? He thought he’d get into beer or something like his dad was into. Part of him was glad he enjoyed the bitter Wine over Whisky though, burned less. He drank it religiously in his teen years so he was used to it. He found one that reminded him of Francis. Strawberry Wine. It would remind him of all the peaceful nights full of him teasing Francis while Francis was studying, all the rainy nights when they’d sit in the dorm room and just talk.
“Francis?” I was sitting in my bed, back against the headboard as I looked at Francis in the dark. A gentle light on His face from the streetlights outside.
“Yeah Hank?” Francis had a slightly relaxed tone, but he wasn’t all that calm due to finals upcoming. I could tell he was tense.
“What do you think about, ya know? Men. Dating them, that is, not that I want to well, date you. Just curious..” I knew I was lying. But something about me in that moment was that I was scared, scared of rejection, of him hating me.
“Well I’m not exactly fond of the idea, I would say I’m straight.” Francis’ answer had killed me.
“Oh.. Well I’m glad you’re honest..” I didn’t notice my tone, I wasn’t paying attention to it and Francis caught something in my tone. I mean, to be fair we had maybe a month left together in this dorm and he just told me I had no chance necessarily.
“Is there anything wrong? You seem disappointed Hank..” I caught what he said a little too late. “You are disappointed.” Francis concluded before I could even say something. I slowly felt dread wash over me.
“I-no I’m not, it’s just-”
“Hank, are you Gay?” The way Francis had said it reminded me how we both grew up in a more conservative town, how when we moved to Ann Arbor things changed, and I guessed the changes were bad.
“I- I don’t know, okay? It’s a horrible thing I know, but I- You-..”
“So my roommate has been gay for me for the past three years? Wow Hank. Just. Wow. I wish you had said something sooner, might've given me more time to consider everything.”
“What do you mean ‘consider’?” I masked the hope in my tone because I didn’t want to ruin anything else.
“Well I would consider you, not as a romantic partner or anything but as maybe, a roommate after college but, I don’t know now.” His tone cut through my already hurt heart more than anything ever has. I recall biting my lip, I felt blood from how hard I had bit down. I saw the look in his eyes.
“You ‘don’t know now’ Is it really that bad? I don't even know what I was!! Okay? And you’re just going to throw any thought or idea of me out the window?? I- Francis I’m sorry, I really am. I- I can change- please.” I begged. The star Quarter-Back, Hank McJones. Crying at the school teacher's pet's feet, begging.
“McJones, I’m not giving you a chance if you’re this desperate. You realize desperation only means you’re scared to lose something. And if you’re scared to lose me, then you obviously won’t change. I’m truly sorry. I can’t say yes though. I just, your parents and my parents would hate it if you came out to be gay because of me. I do love you, but I love you as a friend. I can’t see you romantically, even if I supported your Queer agenda, I couldn’t help you because we are not the same. You’re going to get far in sports, I’m going a different path though. We can’t love each other past friends or brothers. I’m sorry.”
His apology felt more like a reasoning, it felt like a slap to the face. It reminded me of how I felt in high school, lonely, but I was surrounded by people who thought they understood me. Francis knew me, he understood me, or so I thought. We sat in silence the rest of the night. He had gone to sleep and that was the day I had packed all my stuff and left. I turned in my dorm key, and got an apartment.
That leads to where Hank is now. Everytime he drinks it’s the same memory, but he changes it for himself. To make it easier to swallow the pain, to make it easier to keep on with his wine. Sometimes he’d go through an old shoebox of photos he had kept days when he and Francis didn’t think about possible tension in between them. Days when they were teenagers, or young adults and that was it. They had school and work, sure, but they had each other.
Hank never got to move on from Francis, who had become a Doctor and he studied Biology to cure diseases. Hank felt like he needed to reach out. But how does one reach out with a stumbling and cut hand? How does someone who looks so torn and feel even more torn reach out? Simply, they don’t. He kept looking over the pictures, them at Hanks games, Hank at Francis’ Science fairs and cool things that he did, the one time they had gone to cedar point and Hank got so sick from a ride he had to go home.
Hank saw the scars on his arms, past reminders of the night he had left. He quit football because he wouldn’t be able to hide them and he didn’t know what would happen if he didn’t hide them. They would be like his dad, call him weak, or be like his mom, and call them satanic. So he hid them and himself. On one of the pictures he had seen a phone number. A small “F.M.” In cursive next to the number.
F.M. Francis McMellow.. Hank rushed to grab his phone a little wobbly from the wine, but Sober enough to grab his phone and call. He waited anxiously for an answer.
One ring.
Two Rings.
Three rings.
Four- then.
“Hello? This is Dr. McMellow speaking, who’s calling at such a late hour?” It was Francis. Hank actually got to hear francis again after the night he left.
“Uh, Hi. It’s Hank, Hank McJones. I don’t know if you remember me since its been, what? Eight years?” Hank was scared to talk, surprised Francis even answered.
“Holy- Hank is it actually you?” Francis asked quickly, Surprised at his own eagerness.
“It’s me, I’m so sorry for leaving back then- I- I was foolish and scared.”
“Please, don’t apologize, I pushed you to leave. I thought about it for years, actually. I couldn’t forget you for some reason. My brain didn’t let me. I missed you. Well, I’ve missed you. A lot Hank.” Francis sounded genuine. Hank liked that. “Want to meet me somewhere for coffee? To catch up?”
“Uh, sure! What city are you in now?”
“Never left Ann Arbor, still working for UofM too.” Hank smiled a little.
“I haven’t left either. How about the shop we used to go to? Uhh what was it called again?”
“Coffee Roasters Cafe, it was on uh. M-36?” Francis had a little book of all the places they had been together but never mentioned it to anyone, not even his wife.
“I think so, yeah. When do you want to meet up?” Hank was excited to meet up with Francis, even though he knew he still had feelings, they weren’t as bad as they were in college. Besides, they were both 30.
“Well I don’t have work tomorrow and I can tell Vesta that I’ll be gone for an hour.? I’d say from eleven to noon?” Hank caught the name Vesta and paused. Who is Vesta??
“Yeah, sounds like a plan, see you tomorrow..” Francis hung up and Hank sat there thinking. His mind made too many assumptions before he got to ask which was killing him inside. He finished off whatever was left in the wine glass to get his mind off it. He laid down in his room. It was empty, cold too but he likes it that way. He eventually fell asleep.
When Hank woke up the next morning at 8:20 am and he had a slight headache he slouched himself over to his kitchen. Where he had ibuprofen for his usual hangovers. Taking two before he showered and got ready for the coffee date? Is it a date? Hank doesn’t want to think about it. He washed out his hair, then carefully washed his arms. Not wanting to cause any extra pain to his arms as he washed them. Once he was done, he dried off. Doing a bit of lotion on his elbows and face, then he got dressed in a shirt and jeans. He grabbed a sweater and put it on over the shirt to hide his scars. He checked the time, it took him an hour just to get out of bed, and get ready.
It was a good 20 minute drive to the cafe. Since it was on the other side of the city. He put his wallet and phone in his pocket, he grabbed a hat and then his keys. Headed out to his car. He decided to take a short carwash detour so that he didn’t get there 20 minutes early. He slowly went through the car wash, his car did truly need it. He now had 20 minutes to get there and he was ten minutes away from the cafe. He listened to whatever he could on the radio as he drove, finding a parking spot outside of the cafe. He sat in his car, trying to prepare himself.
Eventually he talked himself up enough to get out and walk into the shop. Spotting Francis in their old usual spot. He smiled a little as he walked over to Francis. Hank immediately noticed the ring on Francis’ finger.
“You’re married?” Hank asked slowly. Vesta. It clicked.
“Yeah, my wife is Vesta, it’s a Roman name, we have two kids, our son Henry is three and our daughter Hannah is six.” Francis showed Hank a photo of the family and Hank couldn’t help but smile, the name Hannah. It was the female version of his own name.
“You’ve got a beautiful family dude, I’m happy for you..” Hank looked through the few photos. Francis smiled a little. Hank tried to forget about the feelings he had in college. Wanting to be genuinely happy for Francis.
They continued to talk, Hank mostly listened to Francis since Hank didn’t actually have much to say. Eventually Francis mentioned Vesta’s cousin, being single but desperately looking for a boyfriend around her age.
“Wait wait, what’s her name?” Hank asked with a smirk.
“Chelsea, why?”
“Huh, Well shoot, give her my number, I’ve been looking for love too ya know?” Now both Francis and Hank were laughing a little, about the absurdity of Hank wanting to date a woman and it seemed he forgot all about his college feelings. Francis teased him about it for the rest of the hour.
“Well I should probably get going back to Vesta and the kids, it was great talking to you Hank. Please, we should do these more often, and I’ll bring Chelsea along one of those times so you two can m
eet. Thank you for giving me a second chance.” Hank smiled.
“You’re welcome, and thank you.”