Chapter Text
Eillot sat on the chair across from his therapist. The chair was blue and kind of uncomfortable. He kept tapping his foot even though he told himself to stop. The therapist, Dr. Martin, had her notebook on her lap like always.
“So,” she said, “how have you been feeling this week?”
Eillot shrugged. “I don’t know. Fine. Not fine. Both, I guess.”
She nodded like that made sense. “Can you explain what you mean by both?”
He sighed and leaned back. “Sometimes I wake up and my brain is super loud. Like I have a million ideas and I talk too fast and I feel like I can do anything. I clean my room at three in the morning and text people things I shouldn’t.”
“And the other times?” she asked.
Eillot looked down at his hands. His nails were bitten too short. “Other times I can’t get out of bed. Everything feels heavy. Even answering a message feels impossible. I hate myself for being like that.”
Dr. Martin wrote something down. “That sounds really hard.”
“It is,” he said quickly. “And people don’t get it. They think I’m just being dramatic or lazy. Even Lucas sometimes looks at me like he’s scared I’ll disappear.”
“How does that make you feel?” she asked.
Eillot swallowed. “Scared too. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to be the problem all the time.”
“You are not the problem,” she said calmly. “You have bipolar disorder. That doesn’t define everything about you.”
“I know,” Eillot said, even though he wasn’t sure he believed it. “But it feels like it’s always there. Like I can’t trust my own head.”
There was a small silence. He could hear people talking in the hallway outside.
Dr. Martin looked at him gently. “What are you most afraid of right now?”
Eillot opened his mouth, then closed it again. His chest felt tight. “I’m afraid that one day I’ll feel too much or not feel anything at all and I won’t know how to explain it to anyone and they’ll just think I’m crazy and then—”
He stopped talking, staring at the floor, because suddenly he wasn’t sure how to say the rest, and his therapist waited, giving him space, and Eillot tried to breathe but the words were stuck somewhere between his head and his mouth, and he wondered if this was what it would always be like, trying to explain something that even he didn’t fully understand, and he looked up at her and said, “What if I never get better?
Dr. Martin didn’t answer right away. She closed her notebook slowly and looked at him.
“Getting better doesn’t mean everything disappears,” she said. “It means you learn how to live with it. And you’re already doing that by coming here.”
Eillot nodded, even though his eyes burned a little. “I’m tired of learning,” he said.
“I know,” she replied. “But you don’t have to do it all at once.”
She glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’re almost out of time.”
Eillot frowned. Therapy always felt too short, like he started saying something important and then it just stopped. He stood up and grabbed his jacket.
“Same time next week?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be here.”
When he left the office, the air outside felt colder than before. He put his headphones on but didn’t play any music. The walk home was quiet. When he got to his room, he threw his bag on the floor and sat on his bed, staring at his phone.
He opened his messages and clicked on Lucas’s name. His thumbs hovered over the screen for a second before he started typing.
hey
just got back from therapy
it was kind of a lot
i was thinking about what you said the other day and
He stopped, the blinking cursor waiting, and Eillot wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence, or if he should even send it at all.
The message sent before Eillot could overthink it. He dropped the phone on the bed, then grabbed it again two seconds later.
Lucas replied almost immediately.
kind of a lot sounds very on brand
do you want to talk about it or do you want me to distract you badly
Eillot smiled a little without meaning to.
maybe both
therapy fried my brain
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then appeared again.
okay but listen
when my brain is fried i personally think about important things
like how i said i like kissing you
Eillot groaned and covered his face with his hand.
lucas
you’re not helping
yes i am
i’m reminding you of facts
like the fact that you overthink everything
and the fact that i very much enjoy kissing my boyfriend
Eillot’s heart did that stupid fast thing.
you said it so casually
like it wasn’t going to mess me up
sorry
next time i’ll announce it dramatically
with a speech
and maybe a banner
Eillot laughed, a real laugh this time. He typed back, slower now.
i just
sometimes i don’t know if i’m too much
The typing bubble stayed there longer this time.
you are a lot
but you’re my lot
and i like you
including the kissing part
especially the kissing part
Eillot stared at the screen, his chest feeling warm and tight at the same time. He started typing, deleted it, then typed again.
i miss you
Another pause. Then—
come over later?
we can not talk
or talk
or kiss
i’m flexible
Eillot bit his lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard, thinking about therapy and his head and Lucas’s stupid smile and how safe he felt for just a second when things were like this, and he typed—
maybe
i just need to figure out if i can get out of my head first
The cursor blinked, waiting, and Eillot watched it like it might give him an answer.
Eillot ended up at Lucas’s house twenty minutes later. He stood outside the door for a second, fixing his jacket even though it was fine. Then he knocked.
Lucas opened the door almost right away. “Hey,” he said, smiling like he always did, soft and a little nervous.
“Hey,” Eillot replied.
Lucas didn’t say anything else. He just leaned in and kissed him. Once, then again, quick and warm, like he’d been waiting all evening. Eillot laughed quietly into the third one.
“I thought you said you were flexible,” Eillot murmured.
“I am,” Lucas said, kissing his cheek, then his nose. “This is me being flexible.”
They went inside, the door closing behind them. Lucas kept kissing him, slow this time, like he was making sure Eillot was really there. Eillot let himself relax, his shoulders dropping a little with each one.
“Is this okay?” Lucas asked, forehead pressed against his.
“Yeah,” Eillot said. “It’s good.”
Lucas smiled and kissed him again, like he was trying to say everything he didn’t know how to put into words. Eillot closed his eyes, focusing on that instead of his thoughts, and for a moment it felt quiet in his head, like maybe he could stay there a while, if he didn’t think too hard about what came next.
They walked up the stairs slowly, close enough that Eillot could feel Lucas’s breath on his neck. The house was quiet except for the creak of the floorboards beneath their feet.
When they got to Lucas’s room, Lucas shut the door behind them with a soft click. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he grabbed Eillot’s face with both hands and kissed him hard. Eillot’s heart jumped, but it wasn’t a soft kiss. It was rougher, demanding, like Lucas wanted to take control.
Eillot tried to keep up, but Lucas pulled back just enough to smirk. “You’re slow,” he said, his voice low.
“What?” Eillot asked, breathless.
Lucas rolled his eyes. “You heard me. You’re always overthinking everything. Just kiss me. Stop thinking so much.”
Eillot’s cheeks heated up, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned in again, trying to match Lucas’s pace.
Lucas pushed him gently onto the bed. Eillot landed on his back, and Lucas was on top, his hands running over Eillot’s arms and shoulders like he was checking if he was real. His eyes were dark and serious. Eillot looked him with a softness in his eyes he only had for Lucas. Slowly taking his shirt off, he made eye contact to make sure it was okay. Lucas nodded.
With both their shirts off now, they both silently laughed at each other.
“You’re too tense,” Lucas said, brushing a strand of hair out of Eillot’s face.
“I can’t help it,” Eillot whispered.
Lucas shook his head, but there was no anger in it. “Yeah, you can. Stop being such a pain.”
Eillot wanted to argue, but instead, he let Lucas kiss him again, slower this time. Lucas’s lips were firm and sure, and even when he was a little mean, it felt like he cared.
Lucas pressed his forehead to Eillot’s, looking into his eyes. “I like you,” he said quietly. “Even when you’re all messed up.”
Eillot smiled, barely able to believe those words were real. They stayed there on the bed, tangled up and breathing together, and for a little while, Eillot stopped thinking about everything else.
Suddenly, from downstairs came the unmistakable sound of the front door opening earlier than expected. Voices echoed—Lucas’s dad must be home.
Lucas’s eyes shot wide open. “Shit,” he whispered, pushing himself off Eillot.
Eillot scrambled to grab his shirt off the floor, fumbling as his heart raced. Lucas was already pulling his own shirt back on, buttoning it up fast but not neatly.
“Get your shirt on!” Lucas hissed, tugging Eillot’s shirt over his head while glancing toward the door.
Eillot pulled the shirt down, almost dropping it, and then yanked it over his head just as footsteps started coming up the stairs.
They both froze for a second, breath shallow, eyes locked on the door.
Lucas’s voice was low but sharp. “Move.”
Eillot slid over to the side of the bed as Lucas hurried toward the door to open it before their dad reached the top of the stairs.
The door clicked open, and Lucas’s dad walked in without looking at them, carrying his bag. “Hey, you’re home early,” Lucas said quickly, trying to sound casual.
“Yeah, had a meeting canceled,” his dad replied, setting his bag down. “Everything okay here?”
Lucas shrugged. “Yeah, just hanging out.”
Eillot’s heart was still pounding, and he sat back down on the bed, trying to pretend nothing had happened. But inside, everything felt like it was still spinning.
Lucas’s dad glanced toward the bed just as Eillot adjusted his shirt, pulling it down more carefully. Then his eyes flicked to Eillot’s chest for a second.
“Hey,” he said casually, “your shirt’s inside out.” He pointed a finger, a little smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Eillot blinked, suddenly aware of how messy his shirt looked, the tag sticking out near his collar. He hurried to fix it, pulling the hem straight and turning it right side out as best as he could.
Lucas’s dad didn’t say anything else right away. Instead, he looked at both of them, his eyes sharp but not unkind.
Lucas shifted a little, clearly uncomfortable, and Eillot felt heat rising in his cheeks.
After a pause, Lucas’s dad nodded once, as if he’d decided to drop it, and headed toward the kitchen.
“Dinner’s in the fridge,” he called over his shoulder. “Don’t stay up too late.”
The door closed softly behind him, leaving the room quiet except for their breathing. Eillot and Lucas exchanged a glance, both of them still catching their breath — and now, suddenly, more aware of just how close they’d been.
After Eillot left, the house settled into silence again. Lucas closed his bedroom door slowly and leaned against it for a moment, still feeling the warmth of the afternoon and the tension from his dad’s unexpected visit. Then, almost as if the quiet wasn’t enough, the door creaked open again.
Lucas turned, already expecting who it was before his dad stepped fully inside the room.
“Can we talk?” His dad’s voice was low, but serious.
Lucas sighed and folded his arms. “Yeah, what is it?”
His dad sat on the edge of the bed, looking uncomfortable but trying to keep his tone calm. “Look, I’m not trying to be intrusive, but… are you having sex with Eillot?”
Lucas’s jaw tightened, and his eyes narrowed. “Seriously? You just walked in on us like that, then you ask me that?”
“I’m just asking because I want to make sure you’re being responsible,” his dad said quickly, almost defensive. “I care about you, Lucas.”
Lucas laughed bitterly. “Caring doesn’t mean you get to act like some kind of detective, Dad.”
His dad held up a hand. “Okay, okay. But you know I grew up in a different time. It’s not always easy for me to understand everything. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be supportive.”
Lucas scoffed. “Supportive doesn’t mean making everything weird and awkward. I’m not a kid anymore.”
His dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. I just want you to be safe. And I want you to think about what this means for you. Emotionally, physically—”
Lucas cut him off, his voice sharp. “I do think about it. More than you probably think.”
His dad looked at him for a long moment, eyes softening. “Good. Because it’s important. You’re my son, and I want to see you happy.”
Lucas looked away, crossing his arms again. “I am happy. With Eillot. That’s what matters.”
There was a pause, and then his dad nodded slowly. “Alright. I trust you. But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
Lucas shrugged, trying to shake off the tension. “Yeah, sure.”
His dad stood up and headed toward the door but paused. “Just… be careful, okay?”
“Always,” Lucas muttered.
The door clicked shut, leaving Lucas alone again with his thoughts. He ran a hand through his hair and flopped onto the bed, feeling both frustrated and kind of relieved. Maybe his dad wasn’t perfect at this, but at least he was trying. And maybe that was enough for now.
After his dad left, Lucas stayed on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The conversation replayed in his head—the awkward questions, the judgment he barely hid, and the part where his dad said he wanted him to be happy.
But happiness felt complicated.
He grabbed his phone and opened the browser, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. Without really thinking, he typed: “Am I gay quiz?” and hit search. A bunch of quizzes popped up—some silly, some serious.
He clicked on one that seemed straightforward, reading through questions like:
“Do you feel more attracted to the same gender?”
“Do you enjoy romantic relationships with people of the same sex?”
“Have you ever questioned your sexuality?”
Lucas’s heart started to race. He answered honestly, but with a knot tightening in his stomach. Every question made him think about Eillot—the way his heart fluttered when they kissed, the way his mind spun trying to understand all of it.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” a small voice inside him whispered. “What if you’re just confused?”
He shook his head, frustrated. He wasn’t confused—he was terrified. Terrified of what it meant to admit this, to accept it, and to face what came next.
The quiz ended with a message telling him he might be gay or bisexual and that it was okay to take time figuring things out.
Lucas stared at the screen for a long time. He thought about Eillot, about how real this all felt when they were together, and about the uncertainty swirling inside him.
He closed the phone slowly and let out a shaky breath.
Maybe he wasn’t ready to have all the answers. But for the first time, he knew he wanted to try.