Troubles

I look as discretely as I can to my left, trying to get a good look at Brian. He looks bored – just bored. Not tired. Not hungover. Not even angry at the fact that the car isn't driving any faster.
And really: that's why I'm practically staring at him; he drives normally. Well, normally is a wide term, but he follows the speed limit and hasn't overtaken a car in over 2 minutes.

“So, have a good time?” He asks, throwing the question over his shoulder – or his entire arm – never taking his eyes off the road. His fingers are drumming on the steering wheel to the beat of the music that's pretty much mumbling and humming from the radio. The volume is on low.

Even though I've only been out driving with Brian a limited amount of times before, I can still tell that this situation is slightly unusual. It's not completely out of the ordinary that his fingers are practically dancing to the music, but the fact that they're drumming a little off beat, the fact that the music is lower than yesterday and the fact that he's driving like a normal person would do on a casual, slow Sunday; all that is quite...odd.

“Yeah, it was fun,” I say absentmindedly, trying to discreetly see enough of his eyes to make out if he's hungover or if it really is a slight smirk that's reflected in his look.
“You?” I ask, trying to sound a tad bored; almost like it doesn't matter, except it does. I really want him to be happy, because he's basically made my life just by being there for me the way he has, so any chance of him being happy is just... necessary, almost. It's needed. It's essential. It's simply just a must.

“Yeah,” he says nonchalantly, but because I'm practically staring at him, he can't hide the quick smile that flashes across his entire face.
I smile, wide and obvious.

“What?”

“What?” Brian frowns. He turns his head towards me, keeping his eyes on the road until his face is fully in my view, before he casts a fleeting look at me and then puts his eyes back on the road. It's brief, filled with confusion, but that quickly changes.
“Uhm,” he almost sings, his eyes showing a mix of embarrassment and happiness as they flicker aimlessly over the road. He smirks.
I can't help but giggle. He looks so cute right now. Like a teenager with a crush. He totally met someone!

“Who?” I ask, smiling like crazy and turning my body towards him. I feel like jumping up and down in my seat from the excitement. Now I know how my mom felt the first time I admitted that I...
I look down at the gear shift; my thoughts drifting off a bit.

The first time I ever had a crush, it was on my English teacher in the 5th grade. She had short, dark-brown hair that she never combed. I think that's what I fell for. I've always had a thing for hair.
My mom was all excited when I came home, blushing when she asked me how my day went. I don't think she ever figured out that I was talking about a woman, not a girl, but she was all giddy and happy and inquisitive; just like I am now.

“A chick from the party,” Brian mumbles, breaking my train of thought.
“It was a pretty fun party, too. A guy I know, Jay, he came wearing a beret and spoke like a drunken French all night.” Brian laughs. It seems struggled. He's obviously trying to change the subject. I should just let him. He obviously doesn't wanna talk about it. I get that; I know how that feels.
Yet, I think a beret is Spanish.
“And then there was this lesbian couple I've known for a few years who finally gathered the guts to ask me to be their sperm donor. How weird is that?” he asks rhetorically, sounding a bit outraged and ridiculing.
“I mean, it's nice of them to ask. I definitely take it as a complement, but really: a little me running around? I don't know about that.” Brian slowly shakes his head, clearly lost in the thought of him technically being a dad.

I smile softly and turn in my seat, sitting normally again, facing the wind shield.
A lesbian couple he's known a few years; that's pretty much the only thing going through my mind right now. He knows a lesbian couple, and though they've obviously just shocked him with a request of him being the father to their unborn child, then he seems pretty happy to know them; or at the least acceptant of them.

I should tell Brian about me; about Gerard and I. It seems he'd accept it. He seems okay with homosexuality.
But what if he isn't? What if he's okay with having two friends that are lesbians or even with gay men kissing each other on TV or something, but not okay with having me live in his apartment if he knew that I loved Gerard? I mean, one thing is knowing a lesbian couple, another is having a gay man living under your roof.

Am I even gay?
But even more importantly; why do I keep questioning it?
I know I'm not straight – that should be enough for now. I might be gay, but I might also just be bi.
I could be bi. I could easily be bi. Bisexuality is about finding both sexes attractive. I think I do. I mean, right?

Screw this. Screw it. I don't know for sure, but I know what I'm not – at least so far. I know I'm not completely straight, because kissing Gerard definitely does something for me. At the same time, I'm not entirely sure that I'm gay.
But it doesn't really matter. I'm 17. I've got plenty of years to figure this out.
What I don't have a lot of time to figure out, is whether or not it's a good idea to tell Brian about my feelings for Gerard.

“I met someone too,” I blurt out, smiling softly as I think about Gerard. Even though I still feel rejected by him for the fact that he didn't talk to me after he bolted last night, I still smile when I think of him. I feel all warm and excited; I feel like screaming and crying; I feel happy and... perfect.

“Oh, really?” Brian asks, a smirk evident in his voice.

Suddenly, the fear grips me. What if he throws me out? What if he calls me a fag and tells me to get the hell out and rot on the streets? I can't go back to the streets. I feel so safe with him. What if he tells me never to come near him again? Then I can't ever see another beautiful guitar again without hurting.

“Who?” he asks, making me look over at him. He's smiling. It doesn't change how nervous I am, though.
I swallow a lump and take a deep, shaky breath.

“Gerard,” I say quickly, as if doing so will make it easier. And maybe it does, because once I've said it, it's like the car has stopped moving and the air around me is just completely static. It's all standing still as I wait for an answer, a response, from Brian.

But really, it's stupid for time to stand still like it is, because then Brian can't answer. Everything seems to be moving in slow-motion, which means it takes forever for Brian to answer.

Actually, when I think about it, slow-motion is only something movies can pull off; real life don't have those sort of things. So it must be me who's suddenly moving at the speed of light. Or at least my thoughts are.

I move to make time go faster, and when I look out the wind screen, I notice the car really is still moving. A car overtakes us, telling me we're still moving in at a slow pace, considering Brian is at the wheel.

“A guy?” Brian asks surprised. Just surprised. He doesn't sound mad or disgusted in any way. He doesn't even sound disappointed or anything like that. Just surprised.

“Yeah.” I smile a little, feeling relief slowly drift into my body.
“Donna and Donald's son. The eldest.” My smile slowly grows bigger. There's this warm feeling that's spreading in me. It started the moment I told Brian that I met someone, and it hasn't stopped migrating around my insides since.

“Wow. I didn't know you were gay,” Brian says, sounding completely relaxed. I turn my attention to him, but he's got the back of his head to me: he's looking over his shoulder, checking for traffic, before he pulls out into the left lane and then continues into the lane that swings left. He looks forward again, glancing over at me briefly with a smile on his face. I smile wider, but it drops a bit when Brian takes a left; despite his relatively slow speed, he still doesn't slow down when turning.

I look out the wind shield, spotting the cemetery down the road, before we turn left again. I think we're home soon.

Home...