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My text tone goes off and I almost ignore it, thinking it's another desperate text from Sam. I wish she'd take a hint. She's the last person I want to see. But she's relentless. She's already stood outside my door for half-an-hour today, begging me to open up. I just ignored her.

I love her, but love feels like a rotten thing right now. I don't want to feel it anymore. I don't want to receive it either. I don't deserve something so selfless on account of the fact that I'm so selfish.

I deserve every second of shame and pain and I hope it adequately reflects what I've made Vic feel.

It's not until I get another text that I flip my phone over so I can glance at it. I'm both surprised and disappointed to see its from Brandon; surprised that it wasn't from Sam, disappointed that it wasn't from Vic.

B♡: You up? Come over?

I nearly put my phone down and ignore the text until I read the second one.

B♡: I have a lot of alcohol and no one to share it with.

I've barely left this room since Vic left almost three days ago now. But the promise of alcohol has me eager to crawl out into the real world but only to escape from my mind through intoxication.

I need to fill this emptiness with something. Might as well be booze.

I don't text Brandon back, giving myself leeway incase I want to back out, but I do finally get out of bed and spray some deodorant. I consider changing the clothes that I've been in for days but it seems so trivial in the grand scheme of things.

I grab my keycard and sneak out of the room, not wanting to draw the slightest bit of attention to myself.

I go down to Brandon's dorm and knock softly on the wood. I look at the room number '1717' that is painted and fading. I guess the metal numbering on my door was specifically for Vic to help him find his room.

The thought of Vic makes my head spin. I just want to forget about him for a while.

It's as if Brandon reads my mind because he opens the door grinning with a beer in his hand.

"I didn't think you'd come." he beams, opening the door up then gesturing me inside.

I walk into the room and stand in the middle of it feeling a little uncomfortable. There's a bar fridge that wasn't in there three days ago and it's full with all different kinds of alcohol. If I wasn't so desperate to be drunk myself, I'd be worried about Brandon.

Brandon sits on the floor, leaning against his bed post, grinning at me before he takes a swig of his beer.

"Get a drink, take a seat, talk to me." he beams.

I go over to the fridge and kneel down in front of it, scoping out my options. I find a bottle of the same clear liquid I was drinking at the party.

"What is this stuff?" I ask turning to Brandon.

"Oh, Patron! Mix it with some Sprite." he chirps.

"Isn't this shit expensive?" I chuckle, taking a chilled glass from the fridge and filling it with some Patron then topping it off with the suggested Sprite.

"Well, you know my parents." he sighs almost sadly.

"Right." I nod.

I never actually met Brandon's parents, but only because they were never around. Although, from the way Brandon spoke about them, I'm pretty sure they substitute affection with money.

I position myself on the floor across from Brandon, leaning against the post of Conner's bed.

"Where's Conner tonight?" I ask, commencing small talk.

Brandon smirks, but there's a sadness in it.

"He is staying with a friend because I am irritating apparently." he says with a chuckle.

He looks to the floor as he finishes off his beer.

"Fair enough." I snort.

He looks back at me blankly and shakes his head.

"That was kind of mean." he mutters.

I instantly feel guilty.

"You're right, I'm sorry." I nod. Why do I always ruin things? I'm such an asshole sometimes.

Brandon just nods, acknowledging my apology. He leans over to the fridge and grabs another beer. My stomach tightens as I realize it's the same brand my father used to drink.

I bring my hand up to the scar on my cheek, remembering the pain as the glass shattered and cut through the flesh, and the force broke my cheekbone. I wish I could say that the bottle was empty, that there had been many empty ones before it, but he had just gotten home from work and was sober when he hit me. It was an act of pure hatred.

I take another gulp of my drink trying to drown out the memory.

"So, I heard a rumour that you and Vic broke up." Brandon states bluntly.

I sigh in frustration.

"What is it with this school and always being in my business?" I whine, rolling my eyes.

"I know what you mean." Brandon chuckles. "Anyway, you suck at relationships."

"I suck at relationships? You have more relationships in a month than I've had in my entire life." I point out, feeling a little defensive.

"Fair enough." Brandon shrugs.

"Why do you do that?" I ask confused.

He sighs and shrugs.

"I get lonely. Is that a crime?" he mutters, taking a swig of his beer.

"No, of course not. It's just weird that you ask them all to be your boyfriend after a few days." I push.

"Well fuck, last time I really liked a guy we dated for nearly three months and he claimed we were never together in the first place. Fuck me for wanting the verbal confirmation." he spits, filling my stomach with acidic guilt.

"B, I'm sorry." I apologize, feeling completely ashamed of myself.

"Don't be. I'm over it." he mumbles.

"Clearly." I say sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes at me and stares at the floor for a while. He seems nervous about something but stays silent so I take that as permission to get another drink. I fill my glass back up with Patron and Sprite then sit back against the post.

"Can I ask you something?" Brandon says softly.

I'm surprised by the question. Brandon usually just blurts shit out, he doesn't ask permission.

"Yeah, go ahead." I allow.

"Was I really that bad?" he chuckles nervously, not meeting my gaze.

"What do you mean?" I ask confused.

"Like, you know, in bed..." he murmurs, trailing off.

"What?" I laugh, completely dumbfounded. "You weren't bad."

My words don't seem to relieve him of his tension.

"Clearly I was." he snaps, still not looking at me. "I heard you crying in the morning. You couldn't even look at me. You ended everything after that. Clearly I was horrible and you regretted it."

My chest aches at his confession.

"Brandon, hey," I say softly.

He looks back up at me, seeming pissed off, but there's tears swimming in his eyes.

"That had nothing to do with you." I stress. "You were fine. Perfect even. You made my first time with a guy really special and I'm so grateful for that. Everything that happened afterwards was not your fault."

He seems confused but nods as he sniffs and wipes his eyes. He takes another sip of his drink. "I thought, um, I thought you said you weren't a virgin."

I feel stupid for the slip of the tongue and try to come up with a plan to lie my way out of this conversation. But maybe I shouldn't. Maybe I should just tell the truth. We're already having a difficult conversation, so what's one more?

"I wasn't." I confirm. "You were the first guy I slept with. My first time was with a girl."

"Are you bi?" Brandon asks confused and I shake my head. "Oh." he says surprised, but he quickly nods in understanding. "That's okay. A lot of guys sleep with girls before they realize they're gay."

"I knew I was gay." I sigh.

Then Brandon looks puzzled again. I take another drink preparing myself for the things I'm about to say.

"I," I pause, questioning myself again, but then I remind myself what Dr. Levit said about giving Brandon closure. "I didn't want to be gay. I have never wanted to be gay."

"Why?" Brandon chuckles. "Being gay is great in my experience."

"Not in mine." I admit, looking down at my feet. I bring my hand up to my cheek. "My dad was really homophobic."

"Fuck, you never told me that." he says surprised.

"I didn't tell you a lot of things."

"Does this have something to do with why you broke up with me?" Brandon questions putting two and two together.

"It has everything to do with why I broke up with you." I nod. "I have internalized homophobia. I've come a long way, but I still feel a lot of shame around my sexuality, because that's what I was taught to feel. And when we slept together, it triggered a really bad episode."

Brandon looks at me sadly.

"Kell, I wish you would have just told me. I could have been there for you. I thought I did something wrong." he frowns.

"I know. But I just couldn't at the time." I whisper. "Trust me, you did nothing wrong. You really helped me a lot. You showed me that being in a relationship with a man is a beautiful thing."

He smiles sadly at me and places his drink down for the first time since I got here.

"Thank you for telling me. Can I tell you something?" he says softly.

"Of course," I urge.

"I have the worst social anxiety." he says insecurely.

I want to be sensitive but I'm confused.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but Brandon, you're like the most confident person I know." I chuckle nervously.

"On the outside." he laughs. "I'm dying on the inside constantly."

"I'm sorry." I say softly.

He just nods and looks down at the carpet. He clutches his beer again.

"I guess that's why I assumed that I did something wrong when we broke up. I just feel so embarrassed of myself all the time—"

"I can relate to that." I interject.

Brandon laughs a little, seeming to relax. "And it's the reason I can't hold a relationship. Every time a guy wants to get physical with me I freak out—"

"Can relate to that too." I snort which makes Brandon laugh again.

"I just," he continues. "I don't want to do the wrong thing and humiliate myself."

I nod in understanding.

"Well forget that because you're not going to do the wrong thing. You're not bad at sex. I'm sorry that I made you feel like that." I apologize again and he nods smiling gratefully at me.

"I also talk way too much." he sighs. "I just never know what to say so I say everything, and I fucking hate uncomfortable silence so I overshare and can't sleep at night because I'm thinking about all the dumb shit I've said during the day."

I smile sadly at him. I guess that mystery is solved.

"Brandon, is this social anxiety thing why you've been drinking so much lately?" I ask softly.

He nods, seeming to get a little teary.

"This whole college thing is kind of overwhelming. But I was prepared when I thought we would be doing it together. You help me feel comfortable. But then we broke up and I had to go into this alone. You got Sam, and you found Vic, but I didn't have anyone. My parents couldn't have given less fucks. I made every single guy I dated hate me, even my roommate hates me. Drinking numbs me for a while, I don't feel so anxious when I'm drunk."

"B, self medicating isn't the answer." I sigh.

"Then why are you here. Because I know you didn't come here to hang out with me." he says gesturing to the glass in my hand.

I look down at the drink and decide I should practice what I preach. I place the glass on top of the fridge, deciding I've had enough.

"Are you getting treatment, Brandon?" I ask him softly.

He shakes his and pushes his beer away from him, making me feel warm inside.

"Therapy terrifies me. The thought of just being that vulnerable and so open to judgement is practically unbearable." he breathes, seeming to become anxious at the thought.

"It's a therapist's job not to judge. It's a safe place and it's all completely confidential. I think it'll be good for you. And liver failure isn't a side effect of therapy." I explain and Brandon nods still seeming unsure. "What if I give you my therapist's number? I know for a fact that she's going to make you feel comfortable. Every time I think I've said something stupid, she makes me realize that it isn't."

"Okay," he smiles still not seeming convinced, but he seems open to the idea.

"So," I chirp, eager to lighten up this conversation. "Now that you're aware you're a sex god, is there a guy that you'd actually be willing to take things further with. I don't need you feeling lonely."

He laughs and blushes, immediately revealing that there is someone.

"There is this one guy." he murmurs.

"Well? Who is it?" I ask eagerly.

"My roommate." he mumbles.

I'm initially confused. Then I'm a little devastated. Has Brandon broken the number one rule of being gay? Don't fall for a straight guy.

"Conner? Isn't Conner straight?" I say awkwardly.

"No," Brandon says rolling his eyes. "He likes to pretend."

"What? Really? I thought he was a massive homophobe." I laugh shocked.

"Well," Brandon says in consideration. "I think he may be a bit like you. He's definitely in the closet. I totally just outed him to you, so please keep that information to yourself. You know how this school is."

"Of course." I nod. "But I don't understand. His brother is bisexual."

"Well that's just it. I think Jordan was bullied for dating guys which didn't exactly make Conner feel thrilled about his own sexuality. He's not even out to his brother. And he's so scared that someone will figure out that he's gay that he tries to be as macho as possible. It's embarrassing at times honestly. He throws around slurs like they're nothing and he pretends to be moody and tough. That's why the idiot punched you." he explains.

"Wait, that's why he punched me? What a dick." I scoff.

"It was a dick thing to do. But I promise you, that's not the real him. The real him is sweet and sensitive. He felt so horrible for punching. He whined about it for weeks and I literally had to tell him that he wasn't the one who was punched so he should probably shut the fuck up. But he's a really nice guy." Brandon urges.

"If he's such a nice guy, why did he take Vic's clothes?" I say in disbelief.

Brandon face-palms as he visibly cringes.

"Okay, I'll be the first to admit that he's no Albert Einstein. At that point, he had no idea Vic was blind. We were in the bathroom and I kissed him and at that moment, Vic walked in. Dumb-dumb didn't realize that Vic couldn't see anything and was worried that Vic saw us kiss so he decided to take Vic's belongings as leverage so he wouldn't tell anyone. He was just scared and acted impulsively. You should have seen the look on his face when I told him that Vic was blind. It was fucking priceless. Like I said, not the sharpest tool. But he's a good person." Brandon laughs. He seems fond as he talks about Conner. Even when he's making fun of him, it's affectionately.

"Well, I think if you really like him, and he's really as great as you say, you should go for it." I suggest.

"He hates me." Brandon sighs.

"I don't think he hates you. I think he's annoyed with you because you drink too much. And I'm pretty sure he's worried about you."

"I should cut back, shouldn't I?" he sighs, looking towards his shiny new bar fridge.

"B, I think you should take a break. Focus on the things that are important to you right now, go see that therapist, then start drinking again when you can trust that you're doing it for the right reasons." I explain.

He nods and sighs.

"Yeah, you're right." he gives in.

He stares at the floor in silent contemplative thought for a while until he looks back up at me with sad eyes.

"Is this internalized homophobia the reason you and Vic broke up?" he asks me softly.

The sudden reminder of Vic feels like a punch in the face. A lump rises in my throat and I make a conscious effort to fight the tears dying to fill my eyes. I shrug, unsure if I'm able to speak.

"I've seen you two around together. You look at him in a way you never looked at me." he murmurs.

I clear my throat and suddenly wish I hadn't given up my drink.

"That doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" I mumble hoping that Brandon just lets this go.

"Of course it does. Love matters, Kell." he pushes.

The word 'love' makes me feel a little queasy. Whether or not I love Vic is not something I'm willing to consider yet.

"I just think its too late." I whisper.

"Why is it too late?" he frowns.

"Vic already hates me." I sniff as tears finally blur my eyes.

"I was pissed at you too. But after you've explained everything to me, I get it. He doesn't know about this, does he?" 

I shake my head.

"Tell him." Brandon urges. "He'll understand. If he doesn't, he's an idiot."

I pull my knees up to my chest and wipe my eyes. I don't answer him. I don't want to argue with him.

We sit in silence again. The silence feels heavier without alcohol to relieve the tension. I'm starting to understand Brandon's dependence on liquor. 

"You're a good person, Kellin. None of this is your fault." Brandon says suddenly.

My head snaps towards him to catch the sincerity in his eyes.

It comforts me most of all that the one person who should know first hand that I'm an asshole thinks of me as a good person. If Brandon can forgive me, maybe Vic can too.

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