An unexpected love || Ant x Stephen

Coming Out - Chapter Eight

The evening was quiet, the kind of stillness that only settles in after the frantic energy of a live show has finally bled away. Ant and Stephen were sprawled on Stephen's oversized sofa, the remnants of a Chinese takeaway cooling on the coffee table while a movie they weren't really watching flickered on the screen.

Ant's head was resting on Stephen's shoulder, his eyes fixed on the television, but his mind was miles away. He shifted slightly, the fabric of his hoodie rustling against Stephen's shirt.

"Can I ask a question?" Ant's voice was small, cutting through the cinematic swells of the movie.

Stephen looked down, his hand pausing in the middle of reaching for a glass of water. "Yeah, what's up? You alright?"

Ant sat up, untangling himself from the blankets. He turned to face Stephen, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Are you out to your family? All of them?"

The question hit Stephen like a physical weight. His stomach did a slow, sickening roll, and he had to swallow hard against the sudden lump in his throat. It was a topic he usually kept locked behind several layers of "cheeky chappy" armor.

"Uh, yeah. I guess," Stephen replied, his voice a bit thin. "Why? Where's this coming from?"

Ant chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit he'd had since he was a boy. "I've been thinking recently... about us. About everything." He trailed off, looking at his hands.

"Yeah?" Stephen prompted, the worry in his chest tightening.

"Well, I was thinking about telling my mam," Ant said, finally meeting Stephen's gaze.

Stephen froze. They had been together for barely a week. It had been a whirlwind of secret smiles and dressing room kisses, but to Stephen, it felt like they were still standing on fragile glass. To hear that Ant—who had only just come to terms with his own sexuality—wanted to tell his mother was staggering.

"Really?" Stephen breathed, a mix of shock and intense pride swelling in his chest. "Ant, that's... that's huge."

"I don't want to hide anything from her," Ant explained, his voice gaining strength. "She's my rock. And plus, I think she'd love you."

Stephen took a sip of his water at that exact moment and promptly choked, a spray of droplets hitting the cushion. "What?" he wheezed, his eyes wide.

Ant laughed, reaching over to pat his back. "Not yet, you idiot! I mean down the line. After a few months, maybe. I just want her to know who makes me happy."

Stephen let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. "Right. Okay. Good. Because I'm not sure I'm ready for the 'Meet the McPartlins' interrogation just yet." He paused, his smile fading into something more contemplative. "Can I ask... how was it for you? Telling people?"

Ant's expression softened, but he looked hesitant. "I'm still figuring that out. But what about you? How did it go with your folks?"

Stephen looked away, his gaze landing on a framed photo on the mantelpiece. The memory didn't just come back; it surged, vivid and sharp.

Seventeen-year-old Stephen stood at the top of the stairs, his palms sweating so much he had to wipe them on his jeans for the tenth time. He had known the truth about himself since he was a primary school kid performing magic tricks for anyone who would watch, but saying the words out loud was a different kind of sorcery—the kind where you couldn't control the outcome.

He had already told his sister at fourteen. She had been his anchor. One of his brothers had found his "rehearsal notes" and had been surprisingly kind. But his other brother, Vinny, had reacted with a cold silence that still stung.