“Honey, I’m home!” Taylor shouted into the empty recess of his two-bedroom condo, sunglasses on his face and a plethora of luggage decorating the front walkway. After dragging all of the suitcases and duffel bags into his living room, he stripped off all of his clothes, dropping them piece by piece behind him as he made his way to the bathroom where for the first time in three months he could take shower in his shower.
As the scorching liquid reddened his skin on first contact, he leapt from the hot spray and caught his own reflection through the glass door in the mirror on the opposing wall. He had lost a lot of weight during the tour, which was a usual occurrence. He was usually so tired that he would just crash after shows, and he didn’t like to eat before them because then he’d feel sick on stage. It was his process and it worked just fine for him and he couldn’t help but think that he was looking pretty damned sexy. The smallest hint of a belly that had been present after their near hibernation behavior in the studio, holing up for hours on end with bags of chips and delivered pizzas was now gone, revealing the smooth plane of a stomach that led the way straight down to the equipment he didn’t think anyone would turn their nose up at. Yes, he was looking pretty damned good, he thought as he adjusted the water to better suit him.
A thirty minute shower and one all-too-brief (and yet for once, uninterrupted) masturbatory encounter later, he was dressed and unpacking when Flannery’s familiar knock pounded on his front door. He found himself leaping over the mounds of dirty clothes in his bedroom and running through the living room to reach her. It had been two months since he’d seen her as she had only been able to go to one show on the tour, and that was much too long for them. He knew that he was entirely too dependent on her, but she was his lifeline and many times his only source of sanity in his otherwise insane and otherworldly existence.
Flannery stood on the front stoop, fidgeting under the weight of the pizza boxes and Blockbuster bags in her arms. She was all too anxious to see Taylor. Life in Tulsa was quite lonely without having him around. Sure, she could always hang out with Tre, but since their friendship had only blossomed through Taylor, it was sometimes not the most comfortable fit. And yes, she had her wonderful boyfriend, Jacob, but there were just some things to do and conversations to have that could only be done with Taylor. He was the friend some people went their whole lives looking for: the always there, never questioning friend. And yet, she knew that there were things that she didn’t know about him, things that he guarded. She knew that she had those kinds of secrets as well, but she wished she didn’t. They festered behind her ribs, squirming uncomfortably every time an opening to spill them came forth. It was as if her subconscious wanted there to be a person who knew every single thing about her, but not even six years of incredibly close friendship could seal that deal.
“P.T.!!” he exclaimed goofily as he opened the door, using the PC friendly version of his nickname for her due to the children playing in the front yard next door. She rolled her eyes disgustedly at him and shoved the pizza boxes into his hands. He blocked the doorway and wouldn’t let her through.
“Can I go inside please?” she asked sassily.
“Not until you return the nicety,” he said.
“D.B., it’s so good to see you!” she grinned fakely.
“D.B.?”
“It stands for douche bag. Can I please go inside now so I can put these bags down and hug you so hard you can’t breathe?” she begged.
“Douche bag… it’s nice to see your bitchiness hasn’t subsided over the last two months,” he said blandly before stepping aside so she could burst through and head for the kitchen.
“Bitch, please. Who would Flannery be without a side of obnoxious sass?” she asked, twirling in place in the kitchen and relishing in the renewed ability to feel her arms.
“I missed you,” he said sincerely, stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug. She hugged him back, relishing in the comfortable feeling of his body against hers.
“It’s good to have you home,” she said before fisting a hand in the back of his hair, “Why did you let this get so long? It doesn’t look good when it gets like this.”
“Yes, mother,” he sighed.
“I’m just saying, you’re not going to get laid with it looking like that,” she laughed before opening the correct cabinet and pulling out two plates.
“I get laid on my own, long hair or not,” he muttered, snatching a plate from her outstretched hand. She scoffed loudly and opened both pizza boxes.
“And just when is the last time you got laid?”
“It’s been awhile…”
“How long is awhile?”
“A few months…”
“So, really like six months to a year, I gotcha,” she corrected before dropping two slices of pepperoni pizza on his plate.
“Shut up…” he mumbled before grabbing a beer from the fridge and retreating into the living room.
“All I’m trying to say is that you’re freaking famous and could have sex every day if you wanted to, and yet you sabotage yourself and make no efforts to do so. Why is that?” she asked as she joined him, sitting in the black leather recliner beside his matching one.
“I’m just so tired on tour I don’t have the energy,” he attempted to explain, “I usually just go back to my room and pass out.”
“And yet somehow your douchey little brother has plenty of energy for sex. Explain that to me.”
“Testosterone poisoning?” he shrugged. She couldn’t help but laugh at that suggestion and set her plate down. “Where are you going? Abandoning me already?”
“Just getting the movies, calm yourself!” she said, coming back with one of the bags and dropping it onto the footrest, “We’ve got ‘Knocked Up,’ ‘Eurotrip,’ or ‘Mr. Brooks.'”
“‘Eurotrip,’ please. Zac made us watch ‘Knocked Up’ about a million times on the bus and I’m not in the mood for Dane Cook,” he responded, dabbing his lips with a napkin.
“I can’t believe you haven’t seen this movie. It’s been out for years,” she said as she stood to put the DVD in the player.
“Well, your boyfriend recommended it to me, so naturally I’ve been avoiding it like the plague,” he admitted.
“Why do you hate Jacob so much?” she asked, a mouth full of her favorite mushroom and sausage pizza. Taylor frowned at her and shook his head, thankful for the opportunity to avoid her question.
“Why gee, Flannery. That was attractive!”
“So? It’s not like I’m trying to impress you or anything,” she snorted before turning her attention to the starting movie. Taylor tried his hardest not to look offended by that comment, as she tended to make ones like it from time to time. They always stung him just the same. Sure, their relationship had always been completely platonic and he’d never thought of her in that way before, but knowing that she thought of him as some kind of asexual creature wasn’t exactly great for his fragile male ego. He shifted until he was reclining comfortably and tried not to focus on her comment.
They settled into their usual routine quickly, as if Taylor hadn’t been gone for the last few months. Two beers and several pieces of pizza later, the movie reached the second scene with the creepy Italian train stalker. Flannery laughed hysterically and Taylor just sighed and set his plate down on the floor.
“That’s sick,” he said as the guy licked the side of Scotty’s face.
“Oh yeah, like you’d mind,” Flannery said before she could stop herself. The look on her face immediately after she’d made the comment showed Taylor exactly how much she wished she hadn’t said a word.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his defenses flying up immediately.
“Nothing,” she replied with wide eyes, “I didn’t mean anything by it and I don’t even know why I said it.” Her response came a little too quickly and Taylor knew there was no way he was backing down after that half-assed attempt at an explanation.
“Don’t feed me that bullshit, Flannery. In your entire life you’ve never said anything you didn’t mean to say. What did that mean?” She bowed her head and pressed her thumb and forefinger into her eyes out of frustration.
“Please just drop it, Taylor. I didn’t mean anything by it, just believe me.”
“But I don’t believe you. What the fuck did you mean that I wouldn’t mind a guy licking me?” he spat, his eyes burning holes into the side of her face, which was currently facing away, avoiding his gaze at all costs. They sat there in an uncomfortable, unbearable silence for close to a full minute. The movie continued to play in the background, but neither of them heard any of it while they both tried to process the situation while also attempting to anticipate the other’s next move. “Well?”
“I meant exactly what you think I meant…” she said softly. So softly in fact that Taylor almost didn’t hear her and therefore asked her to repeat her statement, which she did with great hesitation.
“I really have no response to that. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” he asked.
“I just want you to stop lying to me, Taylor! We’re supposed to be best friends and you’re lying to me and I’m so incredibly tired of it!” she said, her voice rising with each passing word. If the conversation had been occurring at any other time, Taylor would have made fun of her for her voice reaching epically girly pitches, but on this day, all he could do was continue to stare at the side of her head; that stubborn side that refused to move.
“Lying to you about what? You know everything about me. I’ve never lied to you in the entire time I’ve known you!”
“Just stop it! Just admit that you’re gay and be done with it!” she screamed, years of pent up frustration about the topic spilling from her lips in one shocking request. Taylor felt rather like he’d just been punched in the gut about fifty times in a row. His mouth literally dropped open as he gaped at her. She finally ventured to look over at him, only to jerk her gaze away again as if the sight of him had been too horrible to withstand.
“Gay?” he asked incredulously, “You think that I’m gay?”
“Yes,” she said definitively, crossing her arms over her chest, but still not finding the strength within her to look him in the eye.
“Since when?”
“Since always. You are gay, Taylor and I’m so hurt that you’ve never told me that you are!”
“I’ve never told you that I’m gay because I’M NOT GAY!” he said, unable to help himself when the last declaration came out in a forceful shout that echoed throughout the room. She sighed and ran her fingers shakily through her hair before finally turning to face him. Her hands reached across the space between their chairs and grasped his hands in hers despite his obvious reluctance to let her do so.
“Taylor. You don’t have to lie to me. I don’t care! I won’t think of you any differently. I just want you to tell me that it’s true and then we can just keep watching the movie and nothing will be different. I just want to know. You know that I won’t tell anyone, I just want to know for me.” Taylor yanked his hands from her grasp and stood, much too furious to be sitting any longer.
“What the hell is going on with you? Am I being Punk’d?” She rolled her eyes and followed suit, standing to face him.
“This is just between you and me. You have to believe me.”
“First Zac and now you. Seriously, I have other people making enough decisions for me in my life, I really don’t need people telling me whether I like to have sex with girls or guys.”
“I’m not making a decision for you, I’m telling you that it’s okay to be honest with me about your sexuality. You’ve been hiding it for a long time but-”
“No, you’re done talking,” he said harshly. Much more harshly than he’d ever spoken to her before. “I’m not fucking gay and I don’t want to hear another word about it.” He had taken a step closer to her at this time and was pointing a finger in her face dangerously close to poking her right in the nose.
“Overreacting much? Would you stop being such an asshole?”
“Why? Apparently I love assholes, you know… because I’m gay!” he exclaimed sarcastically. Two steps backwards and his back hit the wall, something he found himself incredibly grateful for. He wasn’t sure if his legs would continue to support him since his entire body had taken to shaking.
Gay? Seriously? he thought.
“Taylor, I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said gently, taking a tentative step towards him, “I just wanted to get everything out in the open. I want you to be able to be yourself around me.”
“I am myself with you,” he managed, his throat constricting severely from anger and the odd yet overwhelming urge he was having to cry like a four year old with a skinned knee.
“No you’re not!”
“Yes I am! I AM NOT GAY! How many different ways do I need to say that to you?! FUCK!” he groaned, covering his face with his hands and taking deep breaths, trying to keep the tears at bay.
“Taylor-”
“Get out. Just go. I can’t even look at you right now,” he said, not moving his hands. They stood there for a few moments before he felt the need to try again. “I’m serious, Flannery. I want you out now.”
“Please call me when you decide to start approaching your life like a grown-up,” she said definitively. He stood there against the wall, hands pressed hard into his face until he heard the front door slam shut. And then they came. He wandered helplessly around his apartment, sobbing and sniffling out of frustration and the slightest twinge of fear.
When Zac had always called him gay, he had assumed that it was because it was just Zac and he was just as big of a tool as always. But now it was coming from the one person closest to him in the entire world. If she thought he was gay, what kind of front was he showing to everyone? He cried while he put his plate in the dishwasher and hiccupped while he threw his beer bottle in the recycling bin, and was about to go attempt to calm himself down by taking a sleeping pill and going to bed when Flannery’s second Blockbuster bag caught his eye sitting there on the floor next to his dining room table. For some reason, the very sight of the bag made him nervous and he picked it up like it potentially contained toxic waste or a rabid animal of some kind.
Its contents were precisely the type of item he had been dreading. As he dropped the bag onto the table, its contents spilled out and a slough of Queer As Folk DVDs slid across its golden oak surface.