Sunday, December 18th
2:17 P.M.
If Keith had learned anything in the past few days, it was that he needed to think his words through before he said them.
Normally Keith considered himself an intelligent man, which he most definitely was. He'd been a successful student, received great grades in highschool, and many of his professors enjoyed his presence in class. Still, there were times when his words got the better of him. Often things would slip from his mouth, and the moment he'd say them there would be a mountain of regret weighing down on his shoulders
Keith didn't regret what he'd said in that beat up corolla, not in the slightest. What he'd told Lance had been true, down to every last word, every last syllable.
Alright, that's a lie. There was one thing he did sort of regret.
Why in the living hell had Keith mentioned the hip thing?
"So," Lance began, his signature crooked, cocky smile at his lips. "You think my hips are hot?"
Keith looked up from the floor where he rested next to Mateo, the two of them casually playing with Lance's old matchbox cars. He felt his ears turn red, remembering how he'd let that one slip in the car earlier.
Keith scoffed. "What? No I don't. What gave you that ridiculous idea?"
"Um, because you said it earlier?" Lance folded his sock covered feet beneath his legs. "I heard you."
"I never said that." Keith defended himself, moving his attention to one of the small toy cars. He made his red car crash into Mateo's green one, and the child giggled at the low engine noise Keith made at the base of this throat.
The two of them were in the living room, finally warmed up and no longer soaking. After Danny came to the rescue only an hour earlier, they each had taken a long shower, changed into dry clothes, and made up a batch of hot chocolate. Lance sat on the couch wrapped in blankets, a cup of the hot drink warming his palms.
Lance rolled his eyes, having watched his nephew and fake boyfriend play on the floor. "You totally said it, Keith. Don't deny my dance moves. Like you said, my hips don't lie."
"I said they were like Shakira, dumbo. Not that your hips 'didn't lie' or whatever."
"Aha!" Lance cried out, pointing an accusing finger at Keith at the floor. "So you do admit you said something!"
Keith groaned outwardly. Lance had caught him red handed, and there honestly wasn't anything he could do to fix it.
"Fine, maybe I did make a comment about your hips." Keith swallowed. "But it doesn't mean anything."
Keith could've sworn he saw a drop in Lance's face, a glint of sadness that erupted momentarily. And then it was gone, as if it were never there, and Lance was smiling again.
Keith inwardly cringed at his lying. Of course it meant something, Keith did find Lance attractive, but did he want Lance to know that? Hell no. His attraction was increasing, growing with every stupid thing Lance said, every joke he pulled, every crooked smirk he wore, every time they bonded.
Keith was starting to fall for Lance, and that was turning into a cold, hard reality for Keith. He could feel it, and his feelings weren't sparked by just the outside things. It was the vulnerable Lance that he saw, the things Lance revealed to Keith that weren't for outsider eyes. His scar, his father, his fears, his insecurities, that face Lance wore when he wanted to help, his dedication to his mother, the brotherly love he radiated. Keith was allowed to see a side of Lance that not many others knew existed.
Keith wasn't sure what this new attraction meant, and whether it would grow into something more. Lying to Lance about this attraction was racking at his brain. It was torture, because Keith knew Lance was only using him as his fake boyfriend, and would never want him as the real one. So yeah. Keith would keep on lying, denying his feelings, all because it would protect both of them. Hopefully.
It was comforting, sitting in the living room. Just an hour earlier they'd arrived with Danny, Rosa terrified and screaming at them in spanish. Keith not understanding a single thing that left her lips. He'd asked Lance what she'd said later, after they'd showered and washed in disinfectant.
"She was worried about us."
"Us?" Keith had questioned, confusion as to why he was included in the picture.
"Yeah." Lance nodded. "Us. Both of us."
Keith had been puzzled by that. "Why 'us'?"
Lance had patted Keith's shoulder as if he knew something he didn't. "She cares about you, Keith. Don't worry about it."
And now Keith was dry, and clean, and pleasantly comfortable. Rosa had gone off to the grocery store with Rachel, and so for the time being the two boys were ignoring their issues. Keith was okay with that. It was calm and nasty pond free, and Mateo was pleased to have another playmate besides Josie. Keith and Lance hadn't mentioned Jaime once since they'd gotten back: it was a mutual agreement that they wouldn't even say his name until he came home from work.
"Okay," Lance continued. "But do I really dance like Shakira? Like, really really?"
Keith sighed and looked up from the cars, causing Mateo to pout. Keith wished that Lance would drop the subject, because he didn't want to go in depth anymore than he needed to. "Yes, Lance. You move like fuckin-"
"Keith-"
"Freaking," Keith corrected, having forgotten that Mateo was avidly listening. "Freaking. I meant freaking. You move like freaking Shakira."
Lance chuckled under his breath. "Good. You should tell my Mom that, she loves Shakira."
Keith raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"
Just as Lance opened his mouth to respond, the front door creaked open. Jaime entered in, his eyebrows furrowed. It was pitiful really, seeing a grown man look so distraught.
Keith bit his lip and immediately looked away, anxiety pounding at his ears. He didn't want to make contact with Jaime in the slightest, not when he'd witnessed Jaime in such a negative light.
Mateo forced his toy car to crash against Keith's again, the small child making a loud explosion sound with his lips. Keith gave the boy a kind, almost sad smile, and he silently thanked Mateo for being there to play with him. Keith wasn't often around other children, and although kids intimidated him, Mateo was becoming a source of comfort.
Jaime walked past the living room archway, and for a moment he just stood there, watching the three boys.
"Lance?"
Lance moved his focus away from the ring of chocolate that lined his coffee mug, and instead gave Jaime blank eyes. Keith worried that Lance might blow up or become furious in his father's presence. Instead his face was void of emotion.
"Yeah?"
Jaime pushed his glasses higher up on his nose, eyes guilty. "I just-" He swallowed, it obvious that he was uncomfortable with Keith and Mateo in the room. "I just, um…"
Keith looked up at Lance, asking silently if he needed to stay by Lance's side. Lance simply shook his head, and even though Keith was worried, he also felt proud that Lance had decided to confront his father on his own about the issue.
Keith stood up and reached for Mateo's hand. "Hey Mateo, I just realized that I haven't met Cinderella. Would you mind introducing me?"
At the mention of the white goat, Mateo's eyes beamed. The child launched from the floor and grabbed Keith's hand, yanking him towards the back door. "Yes! Tio Lance doesn't like Cinderella, but I think she's nice. You will see!" Mateo tugged at Keith's arm even harder, trudging his way to the back patio.
Just as the screen door shut behind him, Keith made one final glance in Lance's direction. The two of them locked eyes, Lance looking beyond terrified. Then, despite his obvious fear, he smiled.
As soon as Keith was gone, Lance turned to his father.
"Papa-"
"Lo Siento, Lance. I'm sorry."
Lance set his jaw as if he wasn't bothered, as if he wasn't afraid. Except, he was afraid, one could tell by the way he dug his fingernails into his skin.
"Espero que te sea de ayuda, Papa. But I do not forgive you." Lance paused. "You hurt me, and I am allowed time."
Jaime nodded like he understood, and for a moment he was silent. "The things I said," Jaime began, clenching his fists at his sides. "They were disrespectful, and not meant for you to hear. But.." He sighed. "They are how I feel. I do love you, Lance. But I'm new to this, I don't understand it or know how to accept it."
"You don't have to understand something to respect it, Papa. If you want to understand something, understand me, not my sexuality. Being bisexual may be a part of me, but it isn't my whole, and it isn't the only thing that defines me." Lance swallowed, thinking back to what Keith had said, about how he'd helped Lance realize his own worth. "There are other things I'm defined by. I'm of Spanish heritage. I'm a Sanchez. I'm the son of Jaime and Rosa. But also? I am a bisexual, and that's just a fraction of my whole self."
Lance had never even considered saying these words until Keith had come along. Keith was the one who understood life better than Lance did. Yet, the more he thought about it, the more Lance realized that Keith made him stronger. They may have bickered, been rivals, competed and teased and prodded at each other, but in the end Keith seemed to balance Lance out. He'd learned more from Keith in two days, way more than the amount he learned in their six years knowing each other. Opening up, growing close, learning from each other, it did wonders in only thirty-six hours.
And now? Now Lance felt the words come from his lips with ease, never faltering, his voice clear and precise. He knew the point he was making, he knew his own feelings, and it was time to actually let them out.
"All I want is your respect and your support. You don't need to understand it. Just understand that it's real, and that I never changed, and that I'm still your son. Being bisexual doesn't mean I'm a new person, Papa. It simply means I love more than one gender."
Lance pierced his lips at a close, signalling he was finished. It was silent between father and son, both of them still and holding their breath. Lance began to fear that his father would be angry, that he'd protest or become angered.
But, to Lance's surprise, his father began to cry.
Now, it is a strange sight to see a parent cry. From the moment you are born you see your parents as the ultimate human example, because they're some of the first people you see. They are the fine example of life, because they are your ultimate teacher, and act as your main source of learning.
However, often there are stereotypes pushed, ideals that are forced, things read in between the lines. These are things that say your parents must love you no matter what; yet sometimes they don't. They say your parents must love each other; and sometimes they don't. They say your family must be completely perfect in order to be happy- that is a lie. They say that the father is the protector, that he cannot cry; this is also a lie. Society forgets reality, it forgets what humans are really like.
Human's must cry. Keith had told Lance this many times, so much that Lance promised he'd never, never forget it. Still, to see a father weep like Jaime was? It is an experience far different than any other.
First of all, it's uncomfortable, and that's the cold hard truth. You are seeing them in a vulnerable state, already breaking the gender stereotypes of the typical man. And is this okay? Yes, it is always okay.
Second of all, it is eye opening. Because, as society deems, men cannot cry. But as Lance had learned, that is bullshit. Crying happens to everyone, regardless of the gender, and it is one of the ultimate symbols of human emotion. It can convey so many things. Happiness. Love. Anger. Sadness. Hurt. And sometimes, a mixture of all five.
That's why Jaime was crying. It was raw emotion, and it was the tears that made Lance reach for his father and hold him.
Such a strange image, to see a child comfort a parent.
Jaime was sad, sad because he had wronged his son, because he'd made a mistake that he couldn't rewind. He was guilty, because he wanted more than anything to take what he'd said away. There was anger, because he was angry with himself, but also the world, and also his lack of understanding. And confusion, because he was going against what he'd been brainwashed to learn as a child. And finally there was happiness, because he was proud . Proud to call Lance his son, and proud that his son had a mind of his own.
So as Lance stood there in the living room, socks on his feet and arms around his father, Lance realized something. It was going to take time for Jaime to understand, and he'd continue to struggle and protest. You couldn't flip a switch on this sort of thing, you couldn't automatically fix a person. But you could have patience, and although Lance didn't consider himself a patient person in the slightest, he was still willing to wait.
And although he hadn't fully forgiven his father, and although he was still hurt inside, Lance realized that he could forgive. Not today, he decided. But someday.