i'll be your friend

"Okay, kids, Mom and I are about to leave," Dad's voice carries down the stairs, to where they're watching a movie in the den.

"Do any of you need dinner before we go?" Mom calls, on his heels.

Mitch glances at Kirstie and Scott, who both shake their heads. "No, we're good," he yells back. "Thanks."

"We're heading out, then," says Mom, and Dad says, "There's leftover pizza in the fridge if you change your minds."

"I could totally go for the pizza later," Kirstie tells them, over the sound of the front door closing upstairs. "Popcorn is not filling."

Well, if she feels that way about it. Mitch pulls the popcorn bowl more squarely into his own lap. "This is why I'm fat, you know," he mutters. "My mom keeps feeding me."

"No, it's because you're a popcorn hog," Kirstie says, reaching for the bowl.

Mitch holds it out of her reach, shifting to block her with his shoulder. "Am not."

"Give it back, then, I never said I didn't want it," she snaps.

"You might as well—"

"Hey, can I ask you something, Mitch?" Scott asks, cutting in.

"You just did ask him something," Kirstie says. She finally manages to sneak in under Mitch's arm and grab the bowl, shamelessly taking advantage of Mitch turning his attention to Scott.

Mitch mimes throwing his last handful of popcorn at her, and she sticks her tongue out at him. Mitch giggles, and looks back at Scott, who's still looking at Mitch and frowning a little.

"Sure, of course," Mitch says, trying to make his own voice serious, because Scott looks... pretty intense.

Scott licks his lips. "How did you know it was time to tell your parents?"

Mitch raises his eyebrows. "What," he says, half-laughing. "That we don't need the pizza?"

"No," Scott says, shaking his head. "That—you know."

"Nope, I really don't," Mitch says.

"That you're—you know. Gay."

Mitch's heartbeat kicks up, starts pounding. His eyes widen, just a bit.

"I don't know," he says, through a throat that suddenly feels a lot drier than it did a second ago. "I never really thought about not?"

"Right," Scott says, mouth twisting. He doesn't look like that was the answer he was hoping for.

"I just didn't ever really think about it being a big deal," Mitch says. He shrugs, feeling awkward for no good reason. "My parents love me, no matter what, and I knew it." He eyes Scott, considering, and adds, "Kinda like how your parents do."

"Yeah," Scott agrees. Mitch might be imagining it—he doesn't want to look hard enough to check for sure—but he thinks there's a bit of pink on Scott's cheeks. "They do."

"And we love Mitch, too. And Mitch and I love you," Kirstie adds, because she's not an idiot either. "Like you both love me."

"Because we're awesome," Mitch agrees.

"Right," Scott says, again. After a second, he clears his throat, fixes his eyes on something about a foot above the tv screen, and says, "So. Uh. Guys."

"Yeah?" Kirstie prompts. She sounds like she's trying to sound encouraging.

"I don't like girls," Scott says. He winces, definitely does not look at Kirstie, and says,  "I mean, I like girls, I just don't—like girls."