You Tell Me

Everett peers over his laptop screen as Beau hurriedly speed-walks through the kitchen and makes his way downstairs to the garage with nothing but a "hey" thrown over his shoulder. Not bothering to respond, Everett instead lets out a sigh once he's all alone.

It is now Friday and his roommate has hardly spoken to him all week. At first, Everett tried to coax him into small talk and joke around with him like they usually do. Now, however, it seems that Beau can only be in his presence for less than a minute before he makes an excuse to evacuate the area. Everett is at a loss for what to do. It's not like Beau is being actively cruel or homophobic towards him, but it's clear that the guy has been uncomfortable ever since he came out as bisexual to him.

Knowing the position Beau is in, Everett doesn't want to kick him out and make his life even more difficult than it already is. He's been doing so great in Sinting with his job and emotional intelligence management. Well.... until recently, obviously.

After a couple days of trying to act like everything is normal around Beau, Everett eventually decided to throw in the towel and give Beau his space. Again—it isn't necessarily terrible living with him, but Everett can't deny that the lack of interaction has caused him to slip into a deeper depression than he has already been in because of the divorce.

He was hoping to have Beau as somewhat of an anchor throughout the process since he hasn't yet told his acquaintances around town the newest development in his marriage. Now he knows that he'll be shouldering the antagonizing divorce proceedings on his own with no moral support until he builds up the courage to break the news to his parents.

The day crawls by and Everett is relieved to be logging off of his computer when he suddenly receives a phone call.

"Is this Mr. Everett Fowler?" A nasally voice asks in a bored tone.

He clears his throat before answering, "This is. May I ask who's calling?"

"Great. My name is Patrick Robertson, I will be representing Ms. Charlotte Fowler throughout the divorce. I'm calling on behalf of Ms. Fowler to ask for the exact acreage and cost breakdown of your joint property," Charlotte's lawyer explains to him.

Everett sighs and gets out his personal laptop to take notes on what he is being questioned on and does his best to provide a financial and size breakdown of their house.

-

Beau parks in the garage and turns off the car but doesn't exit and head inside just yet. He instead leans back in the drivers seat and lets out a sigh while running a hand through his dark hair.

Work was fine today—he had to do minimal talking, which is always nice, and made his way through another chapter of a fantasy book that he is currently reading. Mrs. T brought in bagels for the two of them, but wasn't able to stay long since she has family in town who she is hosting. All in all, Beau had a quiet shift and closed up the bookstore by 5:00 PM.

Now, however, he braces himself before inevitably seeing Everett. Beau is well aware of the fact that he's been acting weird around his friend. He knows that Everett is aware as well because he gives him dejected looks when he tries to initiate a conversation between the two of them. The conversation attempts have faded throughout the week and Beau doesn't know how to break the ice with him again.

It's just.... every time Everett looks at him or tries to talk to him, Beau gets an anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach and his brain goes staticky. The only other time he's been this phased by someone else was with his dad when he would have his delusional episodes. But even then, he felt more overwhelming annoyance and disdain toward him than he did anxiety and fear like he feels with Everett. The bottom line is that Beau has no clue what is happening with him or how to fix whatever it is that is wrong with him at the moment.

Tilting his head back to look at the headliner of the car, Beau exhales and then groans. "Fuck, dude."

So, the thing is he is pretty sure that he is homophobic. The more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Beau has not felt normal around Everett ever since the guy came out to him as bi. As soon as he processed what was said to him, Beau could barely even look at his friend without feeling sweaty and nervous—not to mention his inability to spit out a coherent sentence around him.

Slapping his own face with both hands to hype himself up, Beau finally gets out of the car and makes his way upstairs. As soon as he enters the kitchen, he notices Everett sitting at the kitchen table with his cellphone at his ear and his laptop shining brightly on his stressed face.

To put it bluntly, Everett looks like shit. From the doorway, Beau can see dark bags under his eyes, his skin looks two shades paler than normal and his hair is a mess of dark blonde curls. It's obvious that he's been running his hands through his hair nervously as he talked on the phone with whoever.

"I'll have to speak with my lawyer about that," Beau hears him mumble into the phone as he furiously types away on his computer.

Realizing that Everett must be talking to Charlotte and her divorce lawyer, he hesitates before sitting across from him at the table. This earns him a confused glance from Everett who quickly goes back to whatever he was previously typing.

Beau figures this might be a good segue into getting back onto speaking terms again. He also wants to be there as some sort of support while Everett goes through whatever stage of the divorce he is in. How helpful or wanted his support is, he can't be too sure, but he wants to make the gesture anyway.

The phone call goes on for another fifteen-ish minutes. Everett mainly takes notes and deflects all questions saying that he will consult with his own lawyer before giving a response. He looks even more exhausted than he did a couple minutes ago by the time he hangs up the phone.

Staring at the tired man looking down at the table, Beau continues to not speak. He wants to let Everett have the first word after everything that has happened.

"What is it, Beau?" Everett asks while clicking around aimlessly on his laptop. Beau suspects that  he isn't actually doing anything on it and is instead using it as an excuse to not look at him.

Shifting in his seat, Beau leans with his elbows on the table and says, "That sounded intense. You okay?"

This causes Everett to make eye contact with him. His eyebrows are drawn together and his eyes are slightly narrowed displaying his puzzlement and skepticism at the question. "Is there a reason why you suddenly want to know how I'm doing?"

Beau hesitates, picking at a hangnail on his left thumb before turning his gaze back to Everett and responding. "Look—I know we haven't been talking much, but I'm still worried about you."

"Don't be. You don't have to, like, pretend to care or anything. I'm not kicking you out—just go do whatever you want to do. I'm gonna get a shower and make some dinner." Everett begins to stand up at his last statement, but Beau stops him with his next sentence.

"I think I'm homophobic and I really don't want to be," Beau rushes out, causing Everett to stare at him with now raised eyebrows. Crossing his arms and tilting his head down slightly, Everett lets out a humorless laugh.

"Beau, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say to that."

Nervously cracking his knuckles, Beau makes a futile attempt at keeping himself from word vomiting, "Like, I've felt really uncomfortable ever since you came out to me and I don't want to be. We were chill living with each other and hanging out before and you're obviously a decent dude. I don't want to feel weird around you, but I get really anxious being near you now. I'm pretty sure it's because I'm not cool with you being into dudes, but also that's none of my business and I don't know how to learn to be cool with it."

Everett's face transforms from one of confusion to thoughtfulness at this.

"Anxious? What—do you think my gayness will rub off on you or something?" He asks with a tilt of his head looking down at him.

"No—I don't know.... I don't think that's what I'm worried about," Beau says while running a hand through his hair, making it look almost as unkempt as Everett's. "I'm not sure what the anxiety is about, but it has just felt hard trying to talk to you like normal recently. My brain gets all fuzzy—I think my body is being unknowingly homophobic. Y'know? Like, it's trying to shut down any conversation that happens between us."

Uncrossing his arms, Everett instead moves to rest his hands on his hips.

"Are you grossed out by my sexuality, but trying to make peace with it so you have a place to stay? I already told you, Beau, I'm not gonna kick you out. We can coexist until you get on your feet again and find somewhere else to stay," Everett says in a deadpan tone.

Beau shakes his head avidly at this, "Dude, no. I swear I'm not just trying to mooch off of you, or whatever. But if you want to kick me out after this, I totally get it. You've been, like, the first friend I've had in years. I used to look forward to hanging out with you all the time before all of this happened."

"I don't know how to help you overcome your homophobia, Beau. If you haven't noticed, I have more pressing things happening in my life. Like the divorce I'm going through with the woman I love and thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with." Everett is trying to appear annoyed, but just seems exhausted at this point. "If it makes you feel any better, my love life is the last thing on my mind. I probably won't be dating anytime soon, if at all. So don't worry about any potential homosexuality going on in the house because there is almost a zero percent chance that it will happen within the next decade or so."

Standing up from the chair and putting a hand on Everett's shoulder, Beau protests this sentiment. "Hey—no. Come on, dude. I'm fucking all of this up majorly." He removes his hand from Everett's shoulder once he's more confident that he won't run away from the conversation. "You can do whatever you want. I don't want you to make yourself miserable because of one failed relationship. I mean, sure, you were married and in love, but you're still young. Don't let the divorce and my fucked up feelings get in the way of your happiness, or whatever."

"Oh, really?" Everett does not look convinced by Beau's words. "So you'd be totally cool if I brought a guy home while you were here?"

Beau can feel his eye twitch at this and a swooping feeling takes over his stomach. Despite this he coughs and says, "Yeah, man. Like I said, you can do whatever you want."

"You look like you're going to throw up," Everett points out to him.

"It doesn't matter what I think. You should date whoever you want to date." Beau tries to instill some confidence back into voice.

Everett looks at him pensively for a moment before asking, "What if I bring a girl home?"

The swooping in Beau's stomach doesn't stop and his neutral face breaks into a slight grimace.

Finding this interesting, Everett continues to question his roommate. "So what was your honest opinion of Charlotte? Bias aside, of course. I think you would've liked her if you met under different circumstances."

"I can't put bias aside, dude. She was a total bitch to you," Beau argues.

"Don't call her that-" Everett starts to defend his soon-to-be-ex-wife, but Beau cuts him off.

"No, man. She backed you into a corner and put you in an uncomfortable situation where you had to choose her and children that you weren't ready for or divorce. Like, that's honestly fucked up. And you told me she was angry at you for ages, but wouldn't tell you why. Also, she seems even more homophobic than me from what you said about her reaction to you getting with a dude in college and by the way she looked at me when I joked about us being gay lovers. It sounds like she was your first love and you didn't get to date around enough to figure out what you really like or deserve."

Beau is breathing harder than before and staring at Everett who now has a look of pure curiosity on his face.

With a tilt of his head Everett says, "So you obviously don't like Char, but you also looked grossed out at the thought of me dating other men and women. Now you're saying that I need to date more people that I like and deserve?"

Heart racing and trying to get his breathing under control, Beau gives a short nod.

"I don't think you're homophobic, Beau," Everett tells him.

"What? But how do you explain how, like, uncomfortable I am with it then?" The poor guy seems genuinely lost.

Crossing his arms over his chest protectively, Everett asks, "Would you say that I like you?"

"Uh—maybe? Probably more before I fucked all of this up," Beau contemplates out loud.

"Would you say that I deserve you?" Everett takes a step closer to Beau who looks down at him with wide, confused eyes.

"You deserve better than me. I've been a shitty friend," Beau mumbles lowly while staring at the shorter man standing closer to him.

Everett blinks up at him before finally saying, "I don't think you're homophobic. I think you like and deserve me, but are too confused to process any of that."

"I-I'm not gay." Beau swallows hard after saying this.

Taking a step back, Everett tries one final test, "So you'd be okay if I went to the bar right now and spent the night with one of the construction workers that always hang around there? You know, the young guys that are always tan from being outside and have muscles for days from working hours and hours on different sites. I think you've met Sam before—I always thought he was kinda hot. Would you be cool if I finally made a move on him?"

Everett can practically see the civil war break out in Beau's head. It is silent for a moment as Beau contemplates what to say next.

"Am I gay?" Beau looks kind of scared, which Everett feels a little guilty for causing.

"You tell me-," Beau practically swallows the words that barely leave Everett's mouth. Caught off guard by Beau actually making a move, it takes Everett a moment to kiss him back. Everett has known that Beau is a very passionate guy and he definitely kisses like one too. His knees are feeling weak from how deeply Beau gets into it, but their mouths break apart soon. At least, sooner than Everett would have liked.

Looking up at the dark haired man now sporting an utterly shocked look on his face, Everett tries to catch his breath. He's a bit embarrassed, considering Beau seems to have lungs of steal and is not currently in need of copious amounts of oxygen after what just happened.

"Holy shit," Beau makes eye contact with Everett. "I'm not homophobic. I'm gay."