Unlike Milo, there really hadn’t been any drama. Long before I got up the courage to tell Milo freshman year and to go to the high school club, my mom had guessed. My parents had a huge social circle and extended family. I’d known several same-sex couples growing up, and telling her the truth had been ridiculously easy compared to what some kids faced.
“Thanks.” Milo nodded sharply. “And I wouldn’t say you had it easy. You were so brave. You had all that teasing in school for being a nerd, and the people who could have stood up for you didn’t.”
“I had friends.” Not him, but I’d had plenty of others, both in high school and college. I’d never been truly alone, and it was starting to feel like maybe despite having the crowd of Neanderthals, Milo had been more alone than me.
“I’m glad.” Milo’s tone was pained, and I wasn’t sure whether it was from the conversation or the snow flurries hitting the highway with more regularity now. Crap. We were supposed to be on the cusp of spring, but Mother Nature hadn’t received the message yet. “I’m not trying to excuse what I did. And I’m still here, taking the least complicated path. Still with the shitty friend choices.”
“I can’t argue with that. You could always try something radical. Get new friends.”
“Working on it.” The look he shot me was so vulnerable that a tremble raced through me that had nothing to do with the weather outside and everything to do with Milo and the way he was steadily working his way past my mountain of grievances against him.
“You know, Kellan and the rest of our group didn’t hate your presence at our gig.” I wasn’t quite ready to offer up myself as a friend, but maybe if he saw that he had some options, he might further distance himself from his old crowd. “Just saying that you might not have to look far.”
“Playing Neptune isn’t the same as a cheap place to crash, but I get what you’re saying. Thanks.”
“And now your dad is gone.” I didn’t like pointing out the obvious, but it needed saying.
“Yeah, he is. And that’s part of what I get all…tangled up in. Like, I didn’t want him to die. At all. But…yeah. Anyway. He’s gone, and I’m pretty sure Mom knows.”
I made a startled noise. That, I hadn’t been expecting. Milo’s mom was a meek but nice woman who probably should have left his dad decades ago. My mom had said she seemed to be thriving now, on her own with a recent promotion at the college in the registrar’s office. Still, though, I had no clue how she’d take this news from Milo. “She knows?”
“Uh… I had to stay with her after my accident. And remember how I’m bad at search engines—”
“Wow.” I choked on some spit. “Your mom found your porn browser history? Rough.”
“Pretty much. I thought I’d cleared it, but then one day there was a sticky note from her on the monitor with instructions on how to actually erase the history. And she added a little line about loving me no matter what and being there if I need to talk.”
“That’s cool. But you haven’t taken her up on that?”
“I’m…not good at hard talk.”
“No kidding.” My own mom would have hounded me until I gave in and talked. But Milo’s family had never been as big on conversations, particularly embarrassing ones. Outside, the flurries were picking up, creating a fine white powder—still not sticking, but worrisome.
“I’m working up to talking. It’s not her I’m worried about as much as Bruno.”
“Ah. You think he might react worse to that news than the fact that you lost his ultra-rare cards?”
“Maybe. He could be like Mom and surprise me. Or he could be another Dad. And, dude…I can’t even tell you how much he’s done for me. I fucked up. Big time. And he was there for me.”
Milo could have maybe thought that through before he gambled Bruno’s cards, but I also didn’t want to kick him while he was already so down on himself.
“I get it. You’re nervous. Coming out is a big deal no matter how old you are. And it’s hard enough even when you have a good support system.” The words tasted bland, like I was a one-person welcoming committee for our campus LGBTQ+ organization and reading off a pamphlet. But maybe it worked on Milo because he exhaled hard.
“You’re right. And yours should have been better. Should have included your best friend. I’m sorry.”
As far as apologies went, this was far better than the weak-ass one he’d tried to hand me via text. “I’m not going to say I forgive you because…it’s still a lot. But I understand better now. Thanks for that.”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me. Which is why I shouldn’t have kissed you. That was why I freaked. Mainly.”