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Link strode into the office in long, determined paces, hot on his best friend’s heels. Reaching back, he grasped the edge of the door with white knuckles and threw it shut, the wood rattling angrily against its frame.
Rhett spun and held up his hands, urging Link to collect himself. “Easy. Take a second and--”
“I like LTAT.”
Too late.
“You know I do, Rhett. It’s usually a really fun show, I’m glad we do it. I mean, I liked it better when we got to try weird drinks instead of rejected GMM foods... but I hate how we’re always getting embarrassed lately. And not in a ‘oh, I’m soft-skinned, my feelings are hurt’ kinda way--I mean physically, I hate what it feels like, to experience embarrassment!” Link paced around their coffee table until it wasn’t enough space to unfurl his anxiety in and broke off to wander behind the desk in a loop.
“I know,” was all Rhett could offer. Worry curdled his features as he watched Link stomp back and forth, back and forth.
“It makes my neck hot, it makes my eyes burn, I feel like I don’t know how to react naturally in front of the camera anymore because I sure as shit don’t feel natural, watching humiliating outtakes and hearing comments from strangers talkin’ about how annoying I look as a person when they don’t even know me!”
The brunette’s voice cracked. Every word that spilled from his teeth warbled with thinly veiled emotion.
“Our entire childhood, Rhett. Our entire fucking childhood, through high school, I had to endure people saying that kinda shit to me. Calling me names and--and accusing me of things that weren’t true? And not once did I ever let it show how much it bothered me, which was hard enough, but now I have to do it on camera? For a living?”
“Slow down,” Rhett begged, taking a step to try and cut off the cycle of pacing. Link simply wove around him, head down, glaring at the carpet and perpetually pushing his glasses up. “Link, wait a second--”
“And, shit--maybe that means that I am soft-skinned, because why else would it get to me so badly?! Wouldn’t that imply that all of it’s true? Does it hit home because it gets at my insecurities, that in reality I am stupid, and annoying, and a nuisance to be around, and--”
A harsh hand at Link’s elbow wrenched him about-face before he could take another step, and the flare of anger in his throat fizzled when he looked up into Rhett’s wounded eyes. The taller one held him steady at arms’ length, large hands on both of his shoulders. A gesture raw enough to make Link’s lip tremble.
“That’s not what’s really bothering you. Is it?” Rhett asked softly, eyebrows tented in concern.
“Everyone thinks I look gay,” Link breathed, dredging up years’ worth of toxicity from his formative years.
Every slur under the sun. Every cruel note left in his locker. Every wicked, knowing smile directed at them across the lunchroom, caught by Link when Rhett hadn’t been looking. Every Sunday sermon soaked in promises of hellfire--where, at the tender age of six, Link had been taught that it was okay to shame or be shamed for such an aggression.
“Even now. Even after all this time. I still can’t escape that one.”
Rhett’s gaze dropped, giving the quivering man in his arms a morose once-over. “‘Gay’ isn’t an insult, Link. It’s not a descriptor to be ashamed of.”
“It used to be. When we were younger,” he whispered, staring dead-eyed into Rhett’s chest.
“No. It never was. It was a word stolen by bigots, who used it to spread hate. But not everyone grew up where we did. How we did.” Rhett took a shaky breath, rubbing an exploratory thumb against Link’s collarbone, his focus lingering there as if seeking something. “Being gay? Or bi, or pan, or whatever… No one should feel humiliated over who they want to be with. Ever.”
Link felt the wet sting of tears and pressed his lips into a thin line, refusing to meet those achingly green eyes.
“You know I don’t care either way. Right, bo?” Rhett’s voice sunk, barely audible. “True or not, I’m not going anywhere.”
One choked sob slipped from Link before Rhett pulled him into a crushing hug, eyes shut, burying his nose into his hair, enveloping him without a trace of hesitation. Link shook as he wept. Instantly, he was sliding his hands up to hide his face.
“You can hug me,” Rhett implored softly, the smallest of smiles finding his lips when Link’s arms shifted up and around him, clawing for purchase on the expanse of his back. He rested his cheek on top of the smaller one’s head--a habit from past fleeting moments of vulnerability they’d shared.
“Rhett...”
He stroked Link’s back lovingly, murmuring soft nothings into his ear.