The shouting would go on for hours.
I'd sit at the top of the stairs and listen to the screaming matches. Dad would accuse Matt of embarrassing the family with his lifestyle. Matt would yell back that Dad had no place making decisions in his life, especially about who he loves.
I've always known Matt was gay. I knew he was before Dad sent him away. I knew before Nick had pulled me aside one night to tell me he'd seen our brother kissing another boy at the mall. I knew well before word truly got out that Matthew Beauregard was "living in sin".
But I didn't care that Matt liked boys. I didn't care that Matt was in love with Ben Townsend, a really nice boy from a middle class neighborhood with manners as nice as his looks, his hair black as night and eyes like warm milk chocolate.
I'd liked Ben almost as much as Matt did. When he'd come over, it was like having another brother. We all got along with Ben. Nick and I were happy to have him around. And I was happy to see my brother happy with him around, even if he always felt like he had to hide it.
I'd known Matt was gay because he told me. He'd sat me down and said it to my face.
It was after an argument. Matt had gone down the stairs to fight and came back with a bloody lip. I'd taken him into my room and sat him on my bed to clean his wound.
"Maybe you should stop fighting with Dad," my thirteen-year-old self had said meekly.
"Tell him that," Matt had growled under his breath between winces as I'd pressed the antiseptic-dowsed cotton bud to his cut lip.
He'd taken my wrist to lower my hand. He'd taken my hand. I'd watched him lick his lips, and just that gesture had been enough of a sign that he was going to tell me something heavy.
"Frankie, do you know why Dad and I are fighting?" he'd asked me.
"You're doing things he doesn't like," I'd replied, naively when I look back on that answer now.
Matt had rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "Kind of, yeah."
He'd shifted his weight to sit closer to me. "I'm gonna tell you something, Frankie. But I need you to promise me something, okay?"
"O-Okay?"
"I need you to promise me you won't tell anyone what I'm gonna tell you."
It's big asks like that that always make my stomach churn and twist into knots. It's those words that mean a secret is going to be told and spreading it could mean the worse kind of consequences. It's those kinds of promises that mean guilt is attached like a ball and chain. I'd felt all of that when Matt had spoken those words.
"I promise," I'd whispered.
I'd noted the way Matt's shoulders slumped forward, relaxing the tension that had kept them stiff. And my stomach had continued to knot tighter and tighter.
"You know Ben?" he'd posed the open question.
I'd squinted. "Yeah?"
"You know...you know how he's been around here a lot?"
Worry tinged with suspicion had crept into my tone. "Yeah?"
He'd intertwined our fingers together at that moment. "There's a reason he's around a lot. And why Dad hates him so much."
I'd kept my mouth shut. At the time, I didn't know how to reply. In the back of my head, I knew what he was saying. But I'd needed him to say it, and no doubt Matt had needed to say it himself as well.
"I..." He'd looked down at our hands as his mouth formed words his voice couldn't produce.
And then it finally came out.
"I'm gay."
I will admit, I'd been expecting some sort of feeling to follow those two lifechanging words. But nothing had come. Nothing felt like everything had changed.
"And I don't want you to treat me differently," Matt had continued. "I'm still the big brother you've grown up with. I'm still me."
I had let out the breath I'd been holding. "Does Nick know?"
"No. I haven't told him."
"Dad knows?"
He'd nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, he knows. And he's certainly pissed about it."
When he'd looked up at me again, his eyes were welling, those trademark Beauregard blues shining behind walls of tears.
"Please don't hate me, Frankie. I don't think I can handle that."
I'd pulled my older brother into a hug after that, and he cried into my shoulder.
My big brother, the one out of the three of us who'd been the strongest. The leader. The perfect son, who, as it turned out, wasn't so perfect. My big brother who'd been different, but still the one I'd grown up with.
I don't know if Matt ever had this talk with Nick; Nick never mentioned it nor does he ever talk about Matt. To this day, I still don't know.
You see, I've never had anything against Matt being gay. In fact, I was thrilled he told me.
And I was heartbroken.
I was heartbroken that he had to hide how much he loved Ben, which was so much more obvious after Matt had told me the truth. I was sad with how my parents treated my brother when they found out the truth, especially Dad, who considered Matt to be an abomination.
I never hated Matt for being gay. I hated what it did to him. I hated what it did to our family. If Matt hadn't been gay, Dad never would have made his life a misery. If Matt hadn't been gay, he never would've been sent to New Hope—sent away from us and away from Ben. He wouldn't have had to go through conversion therapy or the depression and mood swings. Or silence.
If Matt hadn't been gay, he would still be alive. He wouldn't have taken his own life.
Our family wouldn't have gone through the pain and grief of burying him. And I suppose Dad wouldn't have had to go into damage control to save his career.
That hurt the most. That my father cared more about his career than Matt.
"I tried with him, Susan," I'd heard him argue with Mom one night a week after we'd buried him. "He was cured after coming back from New Hope. And he threw it back in my face. I will not let his blatant disregard of that ruin everything I've worked for this year."
"Please, Richard," Mom had whispered. "We've just buried our son—"
"Who has always been out to tarnish my career!" he'd exhaled heavily. "I'm sorry."
I'd peeked around the corner by the staircase to see Dad pull Mom into a hug.
"I...I miss him too, Susan," Dad had said a little more delicately. "I really do."
To this day, I've never been able to decipher whether or not Dad had lied that night. It wasn't like he and Matt were getting along before he died. And what he'd said about him after?
This is what Matt had done to our family. His death had fractured us. Dad was angrier than normal. Mom was more recluse. Nick never spoke about it, or even of Matt, nor did he associate with Dad in the aftermath—it was clear he blamed him for what happened.
We healed in time. Dad eased up and Mom was happier. Nick gave up on his lone wolf routine, but the distance between him and Dad never truly changed.
I didn't understand why at first. Months have passed. Years have gone by, and Nick still won't throw in the towel and quit letting his pride get in the way of more important things.
But now I understand. Now I get why Nick isolated himself from Dad after Matt died. Why they're always arguing, why Nick hates our father so much. Why he's making a clean break of their relationship.
Nick is just like Matt. They're the same.
He's gay.
It feels like some sick nightmare. Like the first round was an appetizer and now the main course is coming. Like Matt was the storm and Nick's the hurricane thundering afterwards.
I...I can't support Nick in this. Not this time. I didn't have an issue with it all before. But after everything that's happened, I can't do it anymore.
I don't have an issue with it because I find it disgusting or sinful or abhorrent. It's because it's the same lifestyle that tore our family apart the first time.
I should've seen the signs. They were so obvious. And I should've seen the signs that he was doing it with Ollie—the amount of time they spend together, how close they are now, the way Nick looks at Ollie and how Ollie looks back at him, how terrified Nick was when Ollie was wheeled into the ward.
The kiss.
I just feel so...so...stupid.
I feel like I've been kept in the dark about my brother my entire life. Like he's been lying to my face. It's like I've been talking to someone who looks like my brother, acts like him, sounds like him, but isn't my brother.
It's not him.
It's never been him.
There's been this completely different person under someone wearing a mask.
I just...
I don't know who Nick is anymore.
AUTHOR NOTE: Hey, guys! Wow, poor Frankie. Or not poor Frankie? What did you guys think of this little piece of characterisation? Let me know below!
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving it a quick vote! Thanks for reading!