A Brief Confession

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Joseph had knocked on his neighbor's door one night. It was almost midnight, but Mary had been home, so he figured that Robert probably hadn't gone out. He smiled the same handsome grin that had once made Robert melt into his arms, waiting there with a plate of cookies and acting like it could change everything.

When Robert opened the door, his eyes went wide, and he almost immediately tried to slam it shut. Joseph held out a hand to stop him and told him to wait, so he reluctantly did. Not breaking the same intense eye contact Joseph recognized perfectly, Robert addressed him.

"Fine. What do you want?"

Startled, Joseph took a step back. He wasn't expecting to get this far. Holding out the cookies as a peace offering, he opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come to his tongue. That was ironic--Robert had done that exact thing so easily that night.

Robert cocked his head, waiting. Joseph didn't say anything, but pushed the plate towards him, trying to buy himself a bit of time. Robert shook his head but took them anyway, stepping away to set them on a table before heading back towards the doorway. Once again, he asked for answers that Joseph didn't have.

"We should talk inside."

Robert felt like he had given him too much of his time and patience--but fuck it, he'd come this far. May as well give him enough time to make him miserable again. He opened the door with a sigh, gesturing to allow Joseph in.

They sat down on the bed. If the living room was closer than his bedroom, they'd be on the couch instead, but the worst place was always the most convenient. Robert looked at Joseph expectantly, but he averted his shame-filled eyes. His heart felt heavy just being here again, knowing it was almost inevitable he would just be told to leave once he said what he needed to say. He was moments away from crying like he had when Mary first confronted him, but that was why he was here.

He had to talk. His feelings were eating him up inside, and without a good outlet, he couldn't keep going. He had come here to confess.

It was a difficult affirmation, and with Robert's newfound hostility towards him, he knew how this was going to end. He may as well just get it over with.

His lips trembled, but he got the words out. "I think I love you."

Robert heard the sentence that from the youth minister's lips, and froze. He wanted to ask to hear it again, but he wouldn't dare ask. He had too much pride--and besides, he knew better. He knew all about Joseph's games, how that man was the reason Mary sobbed into his arms before a few glasses of wine, and how certain he was that Joseph Christiansen would never care about anything but himself. The hypocrite probably didn't even care about his own religion, if the adultery was any clue. (Granted, it wasn't exactly Robert's place to call anyone a hypocrite, but everything in his life went away with a few drinks so he didn't quite care what sort of thing came out of his mouth anymore.)

Still, Joseph's words did something. It made Robert wonder if he was the only one. Maybe those experienced hands had only touched him and Mary--but he renounced that possibility immediately. There was just no way. A smooth-talking, handsome man like that who seemed to have no trouble with picking up men in bars wouldn't have broken years of faithfulness for a roll in the hay with a miserable drunk. That was that. That was all. Robert tried to convince himself that there wasn't the slightest possibility that Joseph hadn't meant to shatter his trust.

So he knew how this had to end, even if the words felt like needles on his tongue.

"Fuck you; no you don't."