“Then why was he in your room last night? Why was he in your room in the middle of the night?!” he barks, now pointing at Brendon. When I open my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, he turns to me and snaps, “No! I am done with your bullshit, Ross! You think I don’t know what you look like when you fuck? I’ve seen you fuck. And you stood there with your sex hair, wearing Brendon’s t-shirt, the same shirt I saw on him just twenty minutes before! The one he wore all night! And I saw this glimpse in the mirror, I swear, I saw the bed and someone on it and I thought that no, no way, not Ryan, who I’ve known for years, not him, but you stood there and lied to my face like I was gonna believe it, all the time having the queer freak in your room so you could fuck the guy! And that I cannot let slide!” A deafening silence lands in the room, disturbed only by the distant echo of the crowd. “When you –” William’s voice starts. I’m breathing hard, my insides twisting together in a sickening burn. I’m being outed. “Is that where you vanished to last night?” William asks Brendon quietly. He sounds hurt. “All those nights?” “I’d say it’s a safe bet,” Joe notes.
Brendon lifts his gaze, and our eyes meet. Fear. A paralysing fear in his eyes. I can’t breathe.
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