40: Just Talk About It

Inho’s humiliation didn’t abate after leaving the theatre and he couldn’t bring himself to look at Stephen. He trudged along a half step behind him, eyes downcast. Stephen had let go of his hand and it felt cold in the absence. He wished the ground would crack open and swallow him up, so he could hide from the burning shame of Stephen’s rejection.

Though he knew the situation was falling apart, he couldn’t strategize to fix it yet. His mind was blank in that unique way that occurs right after you’ve been humiliated – frozen in a moment of sheer adrenaline and discomfort, head empty as a cloud.

“Can you stay over tonight? My place is closer,” Stephen said, breaking the silence. His voice wasn’t as cold as before, but it wasn’t friendly either.

Inho’s head shot up in surprise. This sounded like a chance!

“Sure, I have the morning off tomorrow. So, I can go change then.”

“Good,” Stephen said, then let a wooly blanket of silence fall over the rest of the walk. Inho remained in the torturous limbo of still not knowing why he was mad. Yet his useless embarrassment was stopping him from asking, or directly addressing what had happened in the theatre. He rubbed his hands vigorously over his face, suppressing the desire to leave them there, hiding his shame.

Thankfully, the walk to Stephen’s apartment was short, and soon they were in the elevator heading up. The same elevator he’d been kissing Jamie in just a few months ago. His stomach dropped as he observed them, side by side in the mirror. Such a different picture than Inho and Jamie had painted; she’d been so small, and they definitely looked like they belonged together, at least from the outside. He and Stephen weren’t that far off in height. Did they look like they were a couple to other people? Did they just look like friends?

He glanced at Stephen’s folded arms and uptilted chin. Right now they looked like strangers.

They reached the apartment and it was as clean, austere, and expensive as when he’d been here before. He felt a bit strange to revisit it. The last time had really been quite a turning point in his life. Could he overwrite that memory tonight? With someone that actually wanted him? It was hard to be confident now, with how Stephen was acting.

While he was lost in thoughts, Stephen had taken both their coats and hung them. He handed Inho a glass of water and shooed him to the couch, then left for a moment to the bathroom.

Inho leaned over the couch arm to investigate the large Fiddleleaf Fig growing from a stylish white planter. It was doing really well for such a dark city.

Oh, it’s fake.

For some reason, the plastic leaves repulsed him, and he switched to the other side of the couch. Stephen returned and lowered onto the couch beside him.

This was all falling apart again, just like with Jamie. But dammit, he didn’t want another relationship to end because of his own failings - not this time. He needed to confront the problems before they threaded through the romance, tainting and poisoning all of the good parts. He wasn’t going to be the pathetic ineffectual Inho of last month anymore.

They sat there awkwardly while Inho gathered his thoughts and his bravery. Then, he dove right in, and tackled the part that made him most embarrassed,

“I’m sorry for...touching you in the theatre,” He cringed at himself again, “I must have made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine, Inho,” Stephen replied, and the finality in his tone was like a slap.

He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

Inho fidgeted, “Do you want me to go?”

Stephen rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, then sighed,

“No. You’re right, I just wasn’t in the mood. I…” It wasn’t like Stephen to trail off. He was usually very direct and considered in his speech. Inho could feel the affection between them withering, ready to crumble at the slightest touch.

“Are you mad at me for something?” Inho asked in a small voice, “You’re really cold tonight, and you haven’t been texting back.”

Stephen’s face didn’t give anything away. He must be holding it that blank on purpose.

Why is he being so robotic? It’s honestly just like Jamie. I hate this.

“No, I’ve just been busy.” Stephen leaned back into the couch but still didn’t look at him, focusing instead on the glass in his hands.

“So you’re not being cold?” Inho pushed. This indifferent attitude was really rubbing him the wrong way to be honest. “Everything is the same as before?”

Stephen took a sip of water before answering, “Before how? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Inho wanted to hiss like an angry cat, that was such bullshit. And Stephen wasn’t even trying to lie well. It was fucking rude.

“All right,” he said, shrugging hard, “All right, fine.” He got up without further comment and went to the bathroom. He didn’t find it right away and opened a door that turned out to be a closet. Stephen didn’t offer any help and just sat on the couch silently, like an asshole.

Inho washed his hands. They weren’t dirty, he just needed a break from the oppressive tension in the other room. He could barely breathe, the air was so thick with it. He took a few deep breaths to slow his thoughts down. His feelings and emotions felt like a rope: irreparably tangled in a useless ball that he didn’t even know where to start pulling from.

What did he want here? He thought he wanted to date Stephen, but maybe he just wanted to be wanted. He felt so much anger and hurt bubbling inside just from the coldness that Stephen wouldn’t even acknowledge. Maybe this wasn’t a good fit, after all, maybe this was just a stupid rebound.

It’s not like this was an easy path anyway. He’d probably never be able to tell his friends or family about Stephen, and even if he was bisexual, it meant he could find a woman to be happy with too. That would be so much easier. Why fight for this jerk who didn’t even want him. This was all such a big mistake. His eyes stung again, and he dug his fingernails hard into his palms to distract himself. He washed his hands again and marched back into the living room.