Maeve sighed. It wasn't as if he was homophobic - as people had accused him of being, multiple times. It usually tended to happen when people would suggest he was bisexual, and he would adamantly refuse.
He didn't mind gay people, really. He was sure he had had at least a couple queer friends over time - even if he didn't remember them.
They didn't bother him. It was just... the idea of himself with another male disgusted him. It should be alright for him to defend his sexuality. A few had agreed, though the majority believed it was homophobic to do so. Perhaps he was just going about it wrong. He wouldn't be surprised if how defensive he was came off as insulting. He had called it gross, he supposed, but he had meant in a personal sense.
The cheetah groaned as he sat up, rubbing his face. He had been laying on his bed, a twin that currently was without sheets covering it. His room, though sparse, was littered with articles of clothing and other discarded items. The blinds were drawn and the curtains closed, so the room was dark.
The subject continually bothered him. He knew their reasons for doubting his sexuality. He had a certain... pull, to band members. He could admit he tended to find them attractive, even the males, but he swore up and down that he would never be interested sexually in them.
Maeve paused, eyes sweeping around the room. How true was that, really? He would never admit it, but he would occasionally find himself aroused by them. The majority of the time distaste would overtake him, and he would fight the attraction off. Only a few times had he given into the feeling.
"No," Maeve stated aloud. It had been months, probably at least a year, since he had last had thoughts like that. Even if he had been confused then, when he was younger, he wasn't now.
He still wasn't sure how to make people quit doubting him. Stop mentioning his previous attractions, even when questioned - that one was obvious. But for those that already knew...
He glanced about his room once more. He didn't have much, but maybe getting rid of his band related items would help. A few shirts, a couple of lanyards, and a single poster tacked to his wall.
Maeve slung his legs off the side of his bed, standing and approaching the wall where the poster hung. It was one of the oldest pieces he had, from when he was roughly fourteen. The colors of it had faded and two of the corners had been ripped. He looked over it for a few seconds, breathing a small sigh. It was garbage at this point, anyway. There was no reason for it to be kept.
He unsheathed his claws fully and lifted his hand paw, running it down the length of the poster. It was left in shreds, pieces falling to his carpeted floor. He smiled slightly, perhaps in a melancholy sort of way, as he admired his work. The cuts were jagged, not clean, but satisfying nonetheless. He stooped and collected the shreds, removing those still hanging on the wall as well. With the paper bundled in his arms, Maeve left his room.
The cheetah took a right, using his shoulder to bump open the door to his bathroom. He dropped the shreds into the garbage can, brushing off those that stuck to his arms due to static. Standing up straight, Maeve caught sight of himself in his bathroom mirror. He, unsurprisingly, looked a bit disheveled - but the thing he focused on was his hair. It was light purplish, maybe what would be called pink by some. A bit of his natural dark brown showed, creeping up around his roots.
A quiet laugh, without much humor, escaped him. He wasn't sure if his hair was part of the issue, no one had ever cited it as such, but maybe it was time to dye it back to something more natural, anyway.
