Human Design | Sirius Black

xxxxvi. The Garden of Many Fruits

tw: homophobia, racism, beatings, slurs

"I CAME OUT to my parents." 

Reece missed a step at the abrupt announcement and then instantly blushed for such a failure at hiding his surprise. They had talked about it before in vague terms, and since Carlos had moved into his own apartment a month and a half ago, he had known it would come, but he still hadn't expected it now. 

Carlos hadn't asked him to listen to his prepared coming-out speech written on crumpled paper and pretend to be a strict and stoic father or a mother in hysterics because she had so wanted grandchildren and lived under the impression that being gay was synonymous with the inability to be in a committed relationship or have children, which wasn't all that rare; many of them liked practice.

He turned to look at Carlos, who had a small smile tugging at his lips, which went to show that it must have ended up okay, but Reece asked, "How did it go?" 

He shrugged. "Okay. I mean, I didn't get disowned or anything, so good, I guess. They said they have to 'think about it,' which I thought was pretty ridiculous because what do they have to think about? I didn't ask them if I could take a holiday to Hawaii or get a tattoo, not that either of those are in my budget." Carlos swung his arm with some exaggeration, derivatively doing the same to Reece's because their fingers were interlaced, and Reece was sure they looked quite stupid, not that it mattered much because it was the middle of the night and there was nobody else around.

They had been up in the park on Plepids Hill for several hours, lying on the damp grass as they attempted to see the comet Halley, which was supposed to pass so close to Earth that it would be recognisable to the naked eye, but if it had been so, they had been too preoccupied with each other to notice it. Reece had consoled Carlos by saying that in the time of space technology, a NASA probe was supposed to get a picture of it they could look at, and if not, a Soviet one certainly would (accessing that picture with the war going on was a whole different matter).

When they left the park, they passed a few others still around, the density of people increasing as they neared streets with more restaurants and bars still open. The conversation returned to much more mundane topics (are you hungry? I can make something; where do you want to go – mine or yours? Have you heard anything back from the universities? What books have you read lately? I heard this song on the radio this morning"). They turned to another street that was empty at first, though a door opened only a few yards ahead of them and a group staggered out to the street.

Carlos cut himself off mid-sentence and froze. His hold on Reece's hand tightened to a vice that threatened to cut off circulation to his fingers. "We have to go another way." Brow furrowing, Reece went to ask why, considering this was the fastest way to his place and hadn't they just decided to walk there rather than take the bus, but he hadn't managed more than 'what?' before Carlos had already repeated. "We need to go, Reece." He added a firm, "Now," but the fact that he had called him Reece rather than 'Reese's Pieces' had already made him understand the gravity of the situation, and though he didn't understand what had happened, he let Carlos drag him a step backwards.

But one of the men had managed to notice them. "Hey," he said to his friends, alerting their attention, "look at this." Carlos's hold on Reece's hand tightened further so that it started to hurt. "Where are you going?" called the same man when they turned around, returning the way they came.

Carlos went to set off in a run, but three of the men had managed to block their way. One of them stepped closer to Carlos, so he stepped backwards to find another one of them standing behind. There were seven in total, all dressed in uniforms, some more sober than others. Carlos bent his neck to stare down at his feet. Inches below six feet, he was already short in comparison, but this reaction of retreat made him even more so. The man stood so close to him that the toes of his combat boots nearly touched Carlos's worn trainers. Wright was embroidered on the right side of his military uniform. "Is that your fucking boyfriend, beaner?" Carlos dropped Reece's hand. He didn't say anything or look away from his shoes. A smirk tugged at Wright's lips, and he glanced around at his friends. "We're out risking our lives for this country, and it's being taken over by Mexicans and faggots – well, that's just fantastic. Why don't you go back to Mexico?"