I didn't think I'd be this nervous.
It's not like Washington, where I stepped off the bus unsure of my surroundings but feeling like I could breathe for the first time in my life. No one knew who I was. No one had expectations for me. I could be anyone. I could reinvent myself.
I could be everything I couldn't be back at home.
Of course that didn't actually happen.
I didn't become some carefree, confident, or charming person. I did exactly what I've always done. Hiding in the background, keeping to myself. Head down, too afraid to step out of the shadows and do something that might go against societal norms.
I stuck myself right back into the closet, closing myself off to anyone and everyone until I found myself alone. Unable to let anyone in, to really make a friend. Instead I buried myself into school, upping my course load expediting my graduation in hopes that maybe once I was out of college, then things would change. I'd get an entry level job, work toward my masters and eventually my doctorate.
It would definitely change then once I was successful and thriving in a career, I'd make friends with colleagues and at least that'd be fine. They could fill the spaces around me, until maybe I wouldn't feel so alone.
It didn't help that James didn't follow me to Washington. I was devastated when he chose another college, I understood, really, we had never actually talked about going to a college near each other, it had all been wistful what if's. It had all been fantasies and dreams conjured up in my head. I know that now.
And James' physical absence made it so easy to fall back into comfortable territory. To slip back to pretending I was something that I'm not. Pulling away from James, giving excuses as to why I couldn't come see him or why he couldn't come see me. I was busy. Too much homework. Too many engagements. Too tired. Too anything but what I am. I pushed and pushed until James had enough.
I had just started to find myself when I lost myself again.
My fingers tighten around the strap of my duffel bag, my suitcase at my heels. These two bags hold all of my belongings, books mostly, some clothes. Any furniture I had I sold when I didn't renew my lease in Washington.
Sucking in a breath, the familiarity of the situation I'm in clouds my mind as I stand before Wes' front door. There was a point when this house was also my home, where I strolled through the front door easily. But time has a way of making you forget how you once were able to be so comfortable and I can't bring myself to just open the door.
I knock instead, calculating quickly how long it's been since I've actually seen Wes or Grace in person. Will their greeting be the same or have they too forgotten how to be?
I don't have long to linger in my thoughts as the door swings open, Grace behind it with a warm smile. Her eyes crinkled at the corner, her husband Ryan coming into view behind her.
"You're here!" She beams, pulling me through the door without a moment's hesitation.
Her arms pull me into a hug, a tight hug, full of warmth and love and it instantly makes me feel like I'm eighteen again. Broken and bruised from being rejected by my parents.
"Look at you." She fusses, her hands reaching for my hair. "You look so much older without your curls."
"Trying something new." I mumble sheepishly not wanting to say that I was actually trying to lose myself.
Changing your appearance doesn't actually do shit, I'm still Brett, I'm still insecure, I still don't have a family.
I'm still gay.
"Well you look good." Ryan says, stretching an arm out for my bag. "Here let me take those."
We're all huddled in the entrance, tripping over the perfectly lined shoes until we've knocked them all over as we shuffle through hugs and I slip out of my sneakers. Grace stays close, taking my coat as I slide out of it and fussing at my clothes that don't quite fit because I hate shopping. I have no idea how to dress and I don't know if I want to know. My lackluster wardrobe allows me to blend in with straight society. Apparently gay men are supposed to be excellent at fashion.
"Are you hungry?" Grace asks, pulling containers from the fridge as we slowly make our way to the kitchen steps away. "Ryan made the most delicious roast the other night. Want some?"
"Yeah." I nod, righting my glasses on my nose. "Thanks."
The house looks relatively untouched, maybe new paint though that'd surprise me. Wes has never been a fan of change. The fact that he moved in with Laurel had shocked us all even if it was short lived due to Laurel's job.
"Wes should be home soon." Grace tells me as she slides a plate of food in front of me, taking up residence on the other side of the counter, a glass of ice water in her hand.
I want to talk, to be more emboldened. To tell Grace just how lost and alone and awful Washington was. That I spent several years there and quite literally left with not a single friend. But I think I might have forgotten how to do that too.
So instead I pick up a fork and start in on the roast, my mind laying down a timeline. I already have an interview, thanks to my uncle Chris. And I have a decent savings, the only bills I have now are my car insurance for an old car I bought and my phone. I'll start looking for an apartment or a room to rent so I can get out of Ryan and Grace's hair, if worst comes to worst maybe I'll stay with my Uncle if I have to.
I still need to apply for my masters, the short break I'm on already feels too long. It gives me too much time to think.
"Brett." Grace says, Ryan by her side again. Both of them staring at me as I mindlessly poke food around my plate. "We are really happy you're back."
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Surprise! Apparently it's National bi day and well Brett isn't bi we should still celebrate. Plus I've missed you all and I heard that Crazy_potatoe has a bum back. And it's raining and I have no power so why not start a new story.
And the cover is by Rensk3N 🥳
