what came before won't count anymore · deh

xxvi

this chapter contains usage of the f slur as well as general homophobia and invalidation of other lgbt identities (pansexuality). it's minor, but keep yourselves safe

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"larry, what is the matter with you?!"

cynthia slams her fist on the dining room table as she takes a seat at the head, glancing at the stairs to make sure neither of her children had come downstairs.

larry sits next to cynthia, elbows propped up on the table and hands folded and eyes closed, and he looks like he's praying.

to what god? cynthia thinks. may that god have mercy on him.

he rests his chin on his folded hands, looking out at the living room rather than at his wife.

"what do you mean, cynthia?" his voice is laced with this calm that could be disrupted by anything, like if cynthia could breathe wrong and have a vase thrown at her shoulders. the words also act as a threat; a sort of playful, come and get me tone that reminds her of meeting him in high school.

it's dangerous.

cynthia's breathing is labored as she grips the edge of the tabletop, looking through the frosted glass at the distorted shape of her feet. "you - oh, god, why do you say those things?"

"what things?"

"don't play stupid with me, larry, you're a grown fucking man. connor trusted you -"

"connor didn't -"

"connor trusted us! he trusted us, larry! he trusted us enough to tell us something that a lot of people never tell their parents, and you just dismissed him and made fun of him and - and -" cynthia pauses, the shaking in her hands moving to her voice.

"what - what has he done to deserve any respect from us?" the word he comes out venomous, a heavy threat. "tell me!"

"he's your son, larry!" she doesn't care about the shaking now. it's anger more than anything else. she stands up from her chair and slams on the table again; the noise rings throughout the empty house. "he's your son and i don't care what he's done, you need to be there for him! we were so quick to accept zoe when she told us she was pansexual -"

"that's something she found on the internet, cynthia." larry's voice is cold.

"and we're not talking about her, we're talking about connor. we're talking about the - the faggot that we're going to have to hide at family gatherings now, that i'll never be able to take to a gala because look at how much he's done to us!" he stands up now, more roughly, slamming his hand down on the table with more force than cynthia could hope to achieve. "what has he done to deserve anything that we give him?!"

"he -"

"mom?"

cynthia stops, mouth half open, and looks toward the stairs.

zoe is standing there, a frown on her face, eyebrows furrowed, breathing noticeably heavy.

"dad?"

"zoe," larry sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "go to bed."

zoe lingers, and cynthia approaches the stairs, meeting zoe halfway.

"do what your father says, honey." she gives zoe a kiss on the forehead.

zoe clenches her jaw and looks toward her father before she retreats up the stairs.

"we'll talk about this tomorrow," cynthia hears larry say, but she's already following zoe up the stairs and trying to block out everything that had happened moments ago.