A Very Queer Reality

(Chapter 11) Confession Time

"I am," I breathed out in response to Casey after seconds of silence.

He gave me a puzzled look, "You are what?" I realized there was more to what he had said than just 'I'm not...gay' in a way that made me doubt those words.

There were so many ways to put it. So many metaphors, so many indirects. "I'm..." none seemed to fit, and for once I knew it had to be blatant, "I'm," deep breath, "gay."

He looked at me stunned for a moment, "You're g-"

I cut him off, nodding, more confidently and solid now, "I'm gay."

Behind him, I could see Kelsey standing in the hall watching with a mix of emotions flashing across her face. She locked eyes with me, hers wide in a sense of are you sure you should've done this. Summer came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, glancing at us and nodding.

Casey breathed in sharply and quickly, and nodded stiffly, "Okay." That was all he said.

Summer coughed, "Well guys it's late, we ought to get ready for bed."

"Right," he turned away and took a few quick steps toward my room. 

I changed in the bathroom and went to bed feeling confused over everything else; and unsure. Very unsure of how to take his response, unsure what to feel, unsure whether I'd made a right or wrong or unnecessary move, unsure of whether he had just acted behind that kiss. 

Kelsey shared my full mattress bed with me, like she usually did when she stayed over (which was nearly every night). Summer curled up in the big chair in the living room, scooting what chip bags might've been left to the carpeted floor for the time being. Casey resided on the love-seat, as ironic as it seemed in my mind, content with two blankets and a throw pillow alone.

"Kelsey?" I asked quietly as I flicked off the lights and crawled under the comforter beside her.

She already knew, I didn't have to say anything more. "Kyle, what you did was right, it was honest. Don't worry about it okay? It'll be fine, and if it's not, then give it time and it will be," Kelsey's slender arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pressing her face into my good shoulder blade and urging my eyes into a restless sleep. Comfortable as we were, but distraught still in my mind.

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I thought I heard something fall at 1:52 A.M. but it may have just been my dream. After minutes of silent listening, all I got were Kelsey's hushed snores and a distant siren (and no memory of what my previous dream might have been).

My door began to creep further open as I decided it was nothing, and I protectively sat up in case I'd have to defend Kelsey. 

"Kyle?" Casey's familiar voice cut through the blackness of the air between us, his shadow peeking through the doorway being cast from the coffee maker's LED clock probably.

As silently and nimbly as I could, I slipped out from under the comforter, glancing back once at Kelsey who, though we had not been sleeping long, was out cold, heavily curled against the wall(hogging most of the covers honestly). "Shh," I warned, a finger to my lips as I slipped out the cracked door, "what's wrong? What do you need?" I absentmindedly rubbed my eyes and tried to blink through the grogginess to make out his figure in front of me in the darkness of the hall, only the blue glow from the coffee pot making sight possible.

"I can't sleep and I need to talk to you," he replied in the string of one breath in a lowered tone to be considerate to the sleeping females of the apartment.

Now I never like to hear those words. I need to talk to you. In my experience, nothing good has ever come from that phrase, and I'd expect it to be even worse for me now. I considered (briefly) faking somnambulism, like I wasn't actually awake and just wandering back to bed. But I simply nodded, "Follow me."