"I've spent my whole life performing," I said. "Being what my father wants. What Kingswell wants. Saying the right things, wearing the right face, making sure nobody ever sees—" I stopped. "Anything real."
Ethan set his cup down. Watching me now. The exhaustion in his face shifting into something more focused.
"I fucked up," I said. "With you. Badly. And I know one conversation doesn't fix that."
"Alex—"
"Let me finish." My hands were on the table. I could see them shaking and I didn't try to hide it. "Your room. After the party."
My throat closed. I forced through it.
"I kissed you. You said no. And I didn't stop." Each word felt like pulling glass from my chest. "You pushed me away and I kept going. I pushed you down on your bed and you had to shove me off."
Ethan's jaw was tight. He wasn't looking at me.
"I violated you, Ethan. There's no other word for it." My voice cracked. "You told me that night you wouldn't be my experiment. And you were right. But it was worse than that. I didn't listen when you said no. And that—" I pressed my palms flat against the table. "That's mine to carry. Not yours."
The diner sounds felt impossibly far away.
"I'm not saying this so you'll forgive me. I'm saying it because you deserve to hear me name what I did. Out loud."
Ethan was quiet for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Controlled in a way that told me the control was costing him.
"Do you know what the worst part was?" He looked at me then. "It wasn't the kiss. It wasn't even that you didn't stop. It was that you came to my room because I wassafe. Because I was the gay friend who'd understand. And then you proved that my safety meant nothing to you the second it got in the way of what you needed."
I couldn't breathe.
"Yeah," I said. "I know."
Ethan picked up his coffee. Put it down without drinking. Picked it up again. His hands weren't quite steady and seeing that—seeingEthanunsteady—made something crack in my ribs.
"You were already giving me what I needed," I said. "You never pushed. You never once asked me to say it. You just let be near someone who was living the thing I was so terrified of."
He was looking at the table now.
"If I'd just trusted that—" My throat closed. "You were the safest person in my life. And I made you unsafe."
Ethan's hand came up. Pressed against his mouth. Held there.
"You want to know what I kept thinking afterward?" Ethan said finally. His hand dropped. His voice was rougher now. "That I should have seen it coming." He laughed—short, bitter. "Iknewyou were spiraling. I knew you were so deep in the closetyou couldn't breathe. And I kept thinking—if I just give him space. If I just wait. He'll get there."
"That's not your fault."
"I know it's not my fault." His voice was sharp, but then softer: "I was so patient, Alex."
Then silence, I looked down and away from him.
"Here's the thing I haven't said." I could feel his eyes on me. "I've missed you. And I've been angry about missing you because I shouldn't have to miss someone who did what you did."
My chest ached.
"You're my best friend." The words came out of him like they cost something. "You're my best friend and you violated me and I've spent the past few weeks trying to make those two things exist in the same sentence."
I couldn't speak. My hands were flat on the table, pressing down like if I let go I'd fall apart.
"I need you in my life," Ethan said. Quietly. Like an admission he'd been fighting. "I hate that I do. But I do."
"Ethan—"
