He says it like he’s bracing for impact, like there’s nowhere to step back to after it leaves his mouth.
The vulnerability in his voice hits me square in the ribs. I keep my focus on him for a moment, not rushing past it.
“Okay,” I say with no hesitation in it, nothing for him to brace against.
“I haven’t figured it out, not really,” he continues with a shaky laugh. “I just know I’m not straight. I’m still trying to come to terms with it.”
I grunt. He tucks his legs under him, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands, looking smaller than usual.
I start carefully. “You talking about Adrian?”
“It wasn’t just him,” he says. “It was the whole thing, how it felt to exist in that space without pretending. I thought it would fade, and it didn’t. I can’t stop thinking about it.”
I’m in the same boat, I just don’t say it out loud. I’m too busy fighting the part of me that wants to pull him closer, and the one that’s terrified he’ll see how badly I want this.
“What can’t you stop thinking about?” I ask, voice rough.
“How it felt being with men. How something just… clicked. I’ve been with women my whole life. Flirting with women is easy. It’s automatic, expected. Lance is not Lance if he’s not like that. Itwas good. But this?” He meets my eyes, raw and honest. “It felt like the last piece sliding into place.”
He drags a hand through his hair. “That’s why I downloaded the app. I thought if I could meet someone, I’d know for sure if it was real.”
“And?”
“I went on the date,” he says, watching me like he’s waiting for judgment. “You saw how that ended.”
“Wasn’t your fault. It would’ve been fine if those guys hadn’t shown up.”
It’s not true—not even close. If I’d stayed there any minute longer, it wouldn’t have been fine. Would’ve found a reason to ruin it.
“And I thought I’d be fine, but this is different. Talking to men I don’t know, trying to work out where I sit in it, how to be myself without overthinking every second. I don’t even know why it’s sticking in my head like this. I just know I want to see it through. Been there for a while now, not going anywhere.”
I give in, move a little closer, enough to touch and enough for him to know I’m here.
Lance’s voice cracks just slightly. “I’m terrified I’ll do it wrong. That I’ll meet someone, realize I made a mistake, and Azure Tides was just some one-off fluke. Or worse, it’ll be great, and then I’ll have to rewrite who the hell I’ve been for twenty-eight years.”
“You’re just trying to figure things out,” I say.
His gaze sharpens on me, searching. “How are you so calm about this?”
“I’m not.” I lean back against the couch and stare hard at his ceiling, jaw tight. “Just trying like hell not to fuck this up by saying the wrong thing. You’re telling me something important. I’m listening.”
“You’re taking it really well.”
“What did you expect me to do? Freak out?”
“Maybe?” He tugs the sleeves of my hoodie down over his hands. “I keep thinking about this patient I had a while back, the one I told you about. Guy came in with two dildos stuck inside him. We had to help him out, and the whole time I just kept thinking how free he seemed. Embarrassed, sure, but no obvious shame. He was real about who he was and what he liked. After that, I started reading. A lot.”
“You told us.”
“Yeah, well… the research included journals, papers…and gay porn.” He says it bluntly, no filter. “I watched a ton of it. Told myself it was educational. Medical curiosity. But eventually it wasn’t. It was me trying to figure out if what I was feeling was real.”
My chest feels too tight. “And was it?”
“Yeah.” His expression turns raw, stripped bare. “It was real. It is real. Then I met Adrian and I thought, that’s what I want. I want to know myself that well.”
He pauses, and it throws me off, again. Lance doesn’t do silence like this. He fills it, owns it. This feels unfamiliar.
When he speaks again, it sounds more restrained, like he’s already trying to take it back.
