The Magpie's Death

Drunken Honesty (2)

Jack let out another long sigh, then glanced at him as if he was trying to decide how much to tell.

"Living in a small town is... difficult." It was the word that came out, but not the one he wanted. His glance became a stare and Sam looked down at his hands to avoid it. "People are petty and judgmental. And some are just mean."

He went to pour another shot, but Sam stopped him, pulling both the glass and bottle away. "Enough."

"It must be nice to live in a city," Jack continued, now picking at the wooden island instead of the glass. "People are more accepting. Or they just don't give a shit."

"People are assholes everywhere."

There was a chuckle from Jack, his first real laugh of the night. That single sound alone lifted a large weight from Sam's chest, one he hadn't realized was there until now.

"Maybe," Jack admitted. "But it's still okay to be different. Here, there's only 'normal' and 'not normal.'"

"People in town seem to like you." Turning to find him still staring, Sam flinched again, quickly looking away.

"Only because I'm always friendly and smiling. It's exhausting." Jack chuckled again, this time cold and bitter. "But for some people, it doesn't matter what I do."

Sam took a breath and looked to the side, meeting the stare with a frown. His earlier irritation had grown, but something else was causing it now. Some vague source he couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Are you being bullied?"

Jack froze. "...What?"

"For being gay. Are you being bullied?" Drunk honesty.

"WHAT?"

Sam groaned. He was done with the back and forth. He was tired and his head was fuzzy and starting to ache. He wanted Jack to say it and get it over with.

"That's why you're upset. You're gay in a small town and people treat you badly." Jack sat in stunned silence for a while and he groaned again. "What are you staring at?"

"How... How did you know that?" Jack asked, his voice tight and, if Sam wasn't mistaken, unexpectedly fearful. "It's not like I advertise it. Or do I? Is it obvious? Am I obvious and don't know it?"

Maybe a little, if someone like me can figure it out. He couldn't tell him that. Not if this was his reaction.

"You're not obvious," he assured him. "I'm good at reading people. Comes with the job."

"Your job as a bodyguard..." Jack trailed off, too preoccupied with mentally questioning himself and all his past actions to find his flaws.

Sure. Sam's job as a bodyguard. Same difference.

"Yeah." His question still hadn't been answered and this conversation was getting off track. The fact that Jack was gay or that he thought it was a secret didn't matter. "So, are you being bullied?"

There was a short pause, then Jack let out a resigned sigh. "Yeah."

"By?"

"Some guys I grew up with. They've always been that way. I dropped out of art school to run this place after our parents died, so now they call me 'art fag' and like to follow me around, spewing insults, taking my stuff... It's stupid, like we're still in middle school."

Sam nodded. It did sound stupid and seemed like a waste of time for everyone. But that still wasn't what he needed to know. "Do they hurt you? Physically?"

"Yeah, sometimes."

His face and chest grew hot, the aggravation building, but he wasn't sure why. Jack acted casually about it. Why should he feel so provoked when the actual victim wasn't? And a few bullies beating someone up was nothing. He had done it more times than he could count when he was young, then joined an underground crime organization and made it his profession. But this felt different. There was something very wrong about this.