Forbidden Love // Francis Mosses x masc reader

CHAPTER 3 - Homosexuality

As you walk into his small room, you admire his decor taste. In the centre of the space a warm, oak table stands, carrying a radio and surrounded by a leather sofa with a matching armchair. The carpet over the wooden flooring seems handmade- perhaps it was a gift. Bookshelves stuffed with outdated newspapers, diaries, novels and everything in between tower in the corners. The area has three extra rooms, presumably a kitchen, bedroom and bathroom. Francis disappears through a closed door, returning holding a casserole using oven gloves. He places the dish on the table along with cutlery for both men and ushers you to sit down.

You comply and stick a fork into the meal, using your spare hand to slice off a small portion with a knife. Bringing the food to your lips to blow on it, you thank the man graciously once more for allowing you into his apartment.

"So how come you can cook? No Mrs to do it for you?" you joke.

Francis scoffs, pretending to take offence, "No, not really interested in wom- dating. I'm happy being single." He breaks the eye contact you both previously had, too embarrassed at his mistake to continue.

"Not interested in women? Francis, are you a homosexual?" you say, followed by a small giggle.

Silence.

"You're joking, right?"

Silence.

You're stunned into quietness. The original humour in the situation was no more; if this got out, Francis's reputation would surely be ruined.

"I'll be quiet about it... Does anyone else know?"

The milkman murmurs, "No, no. I've never told anyone."

You take the cooled off food from the fork, swallowing it and wondering about your own feelings for men. Although you'd never dream of telling him, the way you feel for the milkman may be far more than friendly.

You both finish your food, slowly redirecting the conversation to be more pleasant. After a while of talking, you realised the time.

"Oh, Francis! It's 10pm! I must get going... my apologies. Thank you for the food." you ramble hurriedly, rushing to the door. As your foot barely passes the threshold, you feel a lose, soft grip wrap around your wrist. It's not tight whatsoever, but it's enough to make you stay.

"Wait! Are you free tomorrow? Would you like to come over for a drink? I have some fairly highly rated red wine if you'd like it. I would give it to you today but... maybe door security with a hangover wouldn't be a good idea." the man speaks with an almost pleading tone, it's hard to resist.

"Yes, I'm free.", you laugh slightly at the unnecessary begging. "Is 9pm okay for you?"

"It's great for me. Have a safe trip home." he releases your arm and closes the door behind you.

The drive home is almost ambiguous. It's hard to make out your own feelings. You're scared for the milkman; if his sexuality was revealed his life would be altered permanently. At the same time, you're excited... maybe you are a queer after all.