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I’m not gay.
I can’t be gay.
The stars are twinkling overhead, the full moon out. It’s a nice spring night, warm, tepid. I shove my hands in my pockets, riding the wave of adrenaline as I stalk along the edge of the shore. It’s always fun cruising for men, for someone to get me off. It’s reckless and dangerous, and despite knowing I could get into trouble for it, I can’t seem to stop.
Maybe I want to get caught. Maybe I want someone to put a stop to this. To put me in my place.
In the distance, I see a party, something fancy and expensive. Something I could never afford, even with all my savings. Under yellow string lights are several tables, a large floral crescent arch facing the crashing waves.
Someone’s getting married, I think as I scoff. Someone happy, someone in love.
My mind swivels to my brothers. Magnus. Max. Both married. To men.
Gay as the day is long.
My jaw clenches, an angry click resounding in my skull.
Gay.
They’re fucking gay.
Although Matt is too, probably. Judging by the way he looked at that roommate of his. The tender way he carried him around.
I rub at my chest, the euphoric bliss slipping into a pained ache.
They’re together, my brothers, they’ve created a life without me. I wasn’t invited. I’m never included.
My mind flashes to my dad, or who I thought was my dad.
Two weeks ago, my biggest concern was the fact that my brothers had abandoned me, moved on without me, and then I found out that our dad isn’t really my dad at all.
Not biologically anyways.
It seems I’m no one’s.
I’m fatherless and brotherless.
As I approach the twinkling lights, hearing the happy laughter and chatter of the guests, I see a familiar figure in the distance.
Max and his Beau, kissing under the stars, looking content and happy.
Is this why he’s stopped talking to me? Because he’s with another man?
My heart beats faster, rage pulsing through me.
Fuck them.
Fuck them for finding love when I can’t even seem to find myself.
Why I even care what they do, I don’t know. They showed me who they are, who they care about.
And it’s not me.
It’s never been me.
I’m not even their brother, not fully. Maybe that’s the disconnect.
Maybe they know. Maybe they found out and hate who I am even more.
