Together (Book 1)

Chapter 13

Roman's POV

Disgusting?

We had heard that word or similar words plenty of times, but it struck every single one of them.

Thomas stood up from the couch, and I looked around the room, trying to find who was making him act.

Patton.  Shit.

"Being gay," Thomas said, "isn't disgusting."

Noah's face contorted into an emotion that I couldn't identify.  "What, are you some fag?"

Don't call us that.

"No, but I am gay, and I would like you to get the hell out of my house."

Noah was standing now, too, coming a few inches about Thomas's height.  "Did you plan on fucking me tonight or something?" he accused.

"No!"  Thomas groaned in frustration and rage.  "Get out!  Now!"  He stepped away from the homophobe.

"Sickening," the man spat and turned toward the door.  As he reached for the handle, all of us watching, it was thrown open.

"Joan...?" Virgil whispered.

Noah shoved passed them.

"Hey, Thomas.  I thought we were supposed to hang out tonight.  What's going on?"  They glanced back at Noah.  "Who was that dude?"

Thomas flopped on the couch with a huge sigh.

Virgil's POV

That went well, I thought as Thomas began explaining what had happened to Joan.  Their face looked so sad.

"Hey, man, that sucks.  Pizza?"

"Always," Thomas responded.  "What are you doing here anyway?  We weren't supposed to hang out until tomorrow."

They laughed a little.  "I guess I know when my friend needs me."

———

Joan and Thomas were watching Netflix with Pizza, and I had bailed pretty quickly.  Roman had, too, and my mind kept drifting to him.

Disgusting.

That word kept repeating in my head.  I thought about my dream and the way it made my skin crawl, but I also thought about the fluttering feeling in my chest I got when I saw him—how much I missed him when he wasn't around.

I got up from my desk and walked into the hallway, seeing Roman's door closed.  I knocked.

His voice came quiet through the door.  "I'm not in the mood..."

"It—It's Virgil.  I—I just wanted to talk."

Silence answered me, so I tried the doorknob.  It was unlocked—Roman wasn't very good at hiding—and I eased the door open, peeking inside.

He was on the floor, his head tipped back.  Tears streamed down his cheeks effortlessly.  His breathing wasn't labored, and his body wasn't shaking, which is what I was used to; he was just crying, staring at the ceiling without even glancing at me once.

"Roman, what's wrong?" I asked, slowly walking over to him.  I don't know who to make this better!  "Come on; you can talk to me."

"It's my fault; we got treated like that because of me..."

"What?"  I almost laughed at the absurd idea.  "How is any of that your fault.  You can't control how people other than Thomas feel; you certainly can't control how close-minded and stupid they are, either."

A few more tears rolled down his face.  "I was the one who convinced Thomas to go for it.  I came up with the plan.  It's all my fault."  His voice broke.

"Hey, hey...  It's not your fault.  We all agreed to it.  Actually, if anything, I'm glad that all of that happened.  For one, Thomas is stronger, and two, we aren't friends with a homophobic person without knowing it.  I mean, would you rather have gone through all of that or be friends with someone who hates us without even realizing it?"

He shook his head, still looking upward unblinkingly.

"Roman, look at me, please."

He didn't move.

I put my hands on each side of his face, wiping away the tears, only thinking of the butterflies in my stomach and the anxiety in my chest.  I leaned forward and kissed him gently.

He sat there for a moment, not touching me—not reacting.  Eventually, he kissed back, and his hands found my waist.

I was smiling just barely when I finally pulled away.  "I'm sorry for—"

"Whatever you're sorry for, don't be."  He kissed me again.

And I was happy.