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It’s a normal Tuesday afternoon when Bdubs’ entire worldview gets flipped on its head, and it’s entirely Etho’s fault.
In typical Etho fashion, he had done something insane entirely nonchalantly, and acted confused whenever it was acknowledged that it’s a big deal.
In non-typical Etho fashion, he just sent Bdubs his fucking address.
And okay, if Etho does something insane, Bdubs has to match it. That’s their entire dynamic. That’s been their entire dynamic for at least a decade, if not more.
Which is the only possible justification Bdubs can give for why his first response to the DM with Etho’s address, typed out neatly with proper capitalization and line breaks and everything, is to open Google Maps and start packing a bag.
It’s not until he’s quickly explained to his wife that he made last minute plans to visit a friend, given his daughters about five hugs each and promised to call when he gets there, and gotten in the car that he really realizes what he’s doing.
He just dropped everything to drive twenty-eight hours, across two timezones and the Canadian border, just because Etho had sent him his address, probably as a joke.
Bdubs doesn’t even know if the address is real. He didn’t even tell Etho he was on his way. He doesn’t even know if Etho wants him there.
For some reason, he hadn’t even thought about that before he started driving.
Something about Etho just does that to Bdubs. Makes him drop everything to give him supplies, make builds for him, play games with him.
And now, apparently, drive more than a day to his house.
Bdubs follows the directions on his phone, entering the ramp onto I-94 West and humming along to the classic rock on the radio.
If he doesn’t pay attention, keeps his eyes on the road, his hands at ten and two on the wheel, and his focus unwavering, he can almost pretend this is a normal drive. Pretend he’s taking his wife and kids on a trip, or that he’s going to visit his brother, or something… normal.
Bdubs is going to have to have a weird conversation with his wife, isn’t he.
No, why would he? It’s not like he’s, like, leaving his wife for Etho, even if he had joked about it in the early days with Guude. That had just been to rile Etho up.
Bdubs isn’t gay.
Not that there’d be anything wrong if he was, but he has a wife, a family, and a picturesque heterosexual life that he’d be crazy to give up even if he were gay. Which he’s not.
So why does he have a feeling that sinks further into his soul every second that he needs to have some big talk with his wife?
He’ll call her wherever he stops, obviously, but just, like, to say goodnight, talk to her and the kids. It doesn’t need to be a whole thing, Bdubs is just visiting a friend.
Even thinking it feels like a lie, which is insane, because it’s true. Bdubs is just visiting a long time friend, whose name he doesn’t know, whose face he’s never seen, and whose life has inexorably intertwined with Bdubs’ for years.
Etho is Bdubs’ friend.
Nicole is John’s wife.
That feels significant, somehow.
Bdubs is supposed to be focusing on the road, not any of whatever’s happening in his racing mind. He played a trucker on stream for long enough that he should be better at this. It would help if he had more interesting directions, but when he checks his GPS, he’s not doing anything for another 70 miles or so. When he’d looked at the route, he’d hoped to at least get a nice view of Lake Michigan when he passed by, but he’d left in the evening, late enough that it’s too dark for any kind of view. Bdubs will need to stop for the night somewhere in Minnesota, most likely.
Point is, Bdubs isn’t gay, he’s supposed to be focusing on driving, and he’s going to have to pee at the next available rest stop. So there.
Luckily, the next available rest stop comes in ten miles, which is great, because Bdubs has been starting to have an old man bladder ever since he turned 40. He parks, groans as his back moves for the first time in a few hours, and hobbles towards the rest stop, headed for the bathrooms, and maybe to pick up a snack at the convenience store. He’s already being bad, he might as well have some shitty Hostess treat as a pick me up.
But, and this is weird, every man Bdubs sees inside that rest stop, he starts to wonder if they look anything like Etho, from the dead-eyed twenty-something behind the convenience store register, to the guy with gray starting to make up more of his hair than brown, to the guy with the muscles and stubble waiting at Auntie Anne’s who makes Bdubs’ stomach turn in knots when he smiles at him.
In a jealousy way, of course. The guy has perfect teeth, and his eyes crinkle beautifully when he smiles, and who wouldn’t want those arms around them? Uh, who wouldn’t want those arms, he means.
Bdubs doesn’t care about muscular arms holding him gently. Etho’s a little gamer nerd anyways, he probably has zero muscle.
Bdubs banishes the memory of an Etho Let’s Play episode where he mentions doing fingertip pull-ups from his mind. It doesn’t matter whether or not Etho has muscles, because despite what Cleo and half his fanbase would claim, he is, in fact, normal about Etho.
So normal that he’s at a rest stop on I-94 at 9 PM on a Tuesday, en route to Alberta instead of spending time with his family.
Okay, Bdubs might have fucked up.
The rest of Bdubs’ drive before he stops just off the highway near Minneapolis is uneventful, aside from the growing feeling of dread every minute of it, for all six more hours to a cheap hotel he’s praying has a room available at 1 AM.
Luckily, when he arrives, stumbling around the lobby like a baby deer on half-numb legs, they’ve got a room for him, and he checks in, takes the key card, and flops down on the too-soft mattress to go the fuck to sleep.
He’s too exhausted to even think about calling his wife to explain himself. She’s probably long asleep, anyways. And Bdubs doesn’t even know how or what he’d start to explain.
Luckily, once his head hits the pillow, he doesn’t have to think about it anymore, falling fast asleep.
Unfortunately, Bdubs wakes up too damn soon, because 1 AM Bdubs had forgotten to close the blinds before falling asleep, the asshole. When he looks at the alarm clock, it’s 6:30 AM.
And if it were any other day, he’d just go back to sleep, but he has another fifteen hours of driving to get to.
Best to get started early.
So Bdubs checks out of his room, and goes back to the car, and turns the GPS back on.
And realizes he never even told Etho he was coming.
Judas Priest.
What’s the etiquette for asking if you’re welcome at the house of your notorious recluse internet friend who sent you his address for seemingly no reason? When you’re nine hours into the drive already and don’t want to turn around?
Bdubs just wants to know for a friend. Has anyone on Reddit asked this before? They have to have, right?
…
Bdubs doesn’t have time for this. He’s going to go simple, and not think about it.
BDoubleO100 6:48 AM
omw
Perfect!
Bdubs gets on with driving. There’s a lot of nothing in Montana, it turns out. Sure, the scenery is nice, but it can’t distract Bdubs from the sinking feeling that he really needs to talk to his wife about all of this.
Well, no time but a whole lot of nothing to have a difficult conversation with the person you vowed to spend your life with, right?
At the next rest stop, Bdubs texts Nicole, asks if she’s free. It’s late morning on a weekday, so the kids should be at school. They shouldn’t be interrupted, or anything. She texts back, agrees to call. Great. This is great! Why does Bdubs feel like his life is ending?
When John gets back in the car, he calls Nicole.
“Hey! You’re on the car speakers. How was everything this morning?” He asks, and it feels like a tight fitted shirt. Like he remembers what his life is, and is supposed to be. Like he could keep doing this every day while they both grow old, if it weren’t for the curveball he got thrown.
“Good, good, it was fine. The drop-off line was crazy, but that’s nothing new. What do you need, John?”
This is one of the reasons John married Nicole. She’s honest with him, kind or blunt depending on the situation, and she knows just how to spit it out. They complete each other, in a very sensible way. John swallows heavily, lets the silence linger for just a second too long.
“I’m not hearing anything, did you lose service? Hello?”
“I’m here. Uh, Nicole, I think I might be gay.” John doesn’t know he’s going to say it until he does, and it blindsides him almost as much as it probably does to Nicole.
“Okay. Talk me through this, here. I think I’m missing a lot of context for what’s been going on in your brain.”
“I- I love you, I do. And I love our kids and our life, and it’s perfect, I should be happy, we have this great life that I should be grateful for—”
“John. Not what you’re supposed to be feeling. What you are feeling.” Bdubs thinks for a second, head spinning.
“Etho sent me his address.” He says quietly.
“He did? He didn’t… I don’t know, get hacked, or something?”
“It was his real account, and there weren’t any links or obvious scams. I don’t know what came over me, I just knew I had to see him.”
“So you just started driving to Alberta with no plan? You do have your passport, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I did plan just enough for that. I really don’t know. It just felt like the only thing to do.”
John can’t bring himself to say ‘I think I’m in love with him.’
“Okay, good, good. It’s nice to know you’re the same amount of insane as you’ve always been, not more.”
John laughs.
“So, what about the gay part?” Nicole prompts, gently. “Are you… is it him?”
“I haven’t done anything, I promise. It’s not like this is some… longstanding affair or anything. I didn’t even realize… that until I said it out loud just now. But I’ve been putting some pieces together.”
John’s been thinking a lot about how he started doing Youtube full-time lately. He’d been making the videos, sure, but it was just for fun. Just a little stress relief after work, with friends. He was always supposed to keep working at the family business, probably take it over one day, and he did it for a while, carefully keeping the videos hidden, outside. Making sure Bdubs stayed out of John’s life, stayed contained in that little corner of the internet, so he didn’t get in the way.
John never would have bitten the bullet and embraced Bdubs if it weren’t for Nicole. He would have just kept working in construction, probably have to quit from lack of time at some point, and that would have been it.
It would have been hollow, John thinks. He wouldn’t have known it, probably, but something would have been missing.
Bdubs has always been his creative outlet, with just enough plausible deniability to be safe. John’s not an artist, he’s just placing blocks. He has to create something to get views, it’s just a business strategy. Besides, he’s not doing anything that anyone else couldn’t do if they put a little work into it.
But because of Nicole, Bdubs was allowed to thrive. John could build, really put time into making things look nice, and talk to his friends, including Etho.
Because Nicole has always loved Bdubs as much as she loves John. And John does love her back, he really does. She’s his best friend, his life partner, the mother of his beloved children. They’ve stuck together through thick and thin.
It’s just, and he resents himself for being selfish enough to even think it, that he might not even be attracted to women at all.
God, what kind of man only likes his wife platonically? What is wrong with him?
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I shouldn’t have said anything, it doesn’t matter, I’m being selfish. I can come home, what the hell was I even thinking?”
His heart cries out in protest as he says he can come home, but he stamps it down, pushes it all away.
He’s been doing it for 30 years now, what’s a little longer?
“Whoa, hold on, that was a hard left turn there. Calm down a second, let’s not make any more rash decisions.” John nods, remembers she can’t see him, and makes a noise of assent.
“What do you want from this?” Nicole asks. Probably the hardest question she could have asked him.
“I- I don’t know. I don’t want to divorce you. I don’t- this is all very new and weird, but I do love you. I don’t know if it’s, like, romantic. But you’re my best friend and I love our life together.”
He pauses.
“I mean, if you want to divorce me over this, I’d understand. I’m being a terrible husband right now.” He laughs, hollow.
“Okay, you’ve narrowed down some things you don’t want. What do you want? Not what’s best for the kids, or what you think I want. Tell me what you want out of this, and we can work from there.”
John thinks. He thinks about growing up, trying his hardest to conceal some unknown deficit, joining the basketball team, carefully avoiding locker room banter and looking anywhere but the floor. He thinks about working at the construction company, concealing further, making jokes to avoid being the subject of jokes. He thinks about monitoring the way he sits, the way he talks, the music he listens to, every aspect of himself carefully curated to avoid seeming too gay. He thinks about meeting gay people, online or in person, and being hit with this wave of panic, like they had just started walking into the middle of the highway backwards with their eyes closed.
He thinks about quiet, sometimes socially inept Etho slowly coming out of his shell around Bdubs, about talking with him late at night, having deep conversations.
Finding Etho’s voice gorgeous, wondering about his face, his body.
“I think… I want to meet Etho, and kiss him.”
“Well, I think you should do that, and we can figure it out from there.” Nicole replies. A wave of relief goes through John's body.
“Yeah. We can do that.”
“Right, I’m going to hang up so I can make lunch. Keep me updated when you get there, okay?”
“Yeah, I will. Hey, thanks, Nicole. I don’t know what I’d do without you, really.”
“Love you! Drive safely.”
“Love you too. Tell the kids I love them.”
“Well, obviously.”
The phone hangs up.
Bdubs laughs in relief, ignoring the tears blurring his vision slightly.
His entire being feels lighter.
All there is left to do is drive.
Bdubs gets through the border with no issue. The highway on the Canadian side of the border isn’t much different so far. Still just long stretches of mostly empty road.
Bdubs lets his mind drift to Etho. He wonders what Etho looks like. Whether he’s lying about being tall. What color hair he has, whether he’s as strong as he claimed. He wonders what Etho’s house looks like. Does he do interior design? Is there clutter? Will he clean up for Bdubs’ visit?
The more Bdubs thinks about it, despite how much their lives are entwined, there’s so much that they really don’t know about each other.
Bdubs wants to learn. He wants to know whether Etho sleeps on his stomach. He wants to know if Etho’s chin rests on his head like it belongs there. He wants to know whether Etho watches TV before bed. He wants to see what Etho stocks his fridge with.
Bdubs wants to be a part of all of Etho’s life, even if only for a day or two.
It’s a terrifying thought, but the more he thinks over it, the more he realizes it’s true. Bdubs wants Etho, in every way, all the things he hides and the parts he shows off to the world, as few as they are.
Huh.
Who would have thought?
At the next rest stop, Bdubs opens Discord on his phone.
He has one DM from Etho. His heart races as he opens it.
Etho 1:58 PM
👍
Cool.
Once again, Bdubs thinks that maybe Cleo had a point about them. Well, sue him for being predictable. He plays a judge on TV! He’s untouchable!
Bdubs gets back in his car and keeps driving.
By hour twenty-four of a twenty-eight hour road trip, it’s long since become monotonous.
To put it lightly, Bdubs is fucking sick of highway. Also, his back hurts. The things he does for this man, who had to live in the middle of fucking nowhere, like 3 states and another two provinces away. The audacity, honestly. Etho should move to, like, Toronto or something. Just for Bdubs’ back.
But the sun is setting, and there are these gorgeous mountains in front of him, framing the orange glow of the setting sun, and for a moment, Bdubs feels at peace with the world. Like no matter his complaining, he can keep going. Like Etho might really, truly want him. Like everything could turn out okay.
He can do this. Just four more hours.
After he gets off the Trans-Canada Highway, it’s so dark that Bdubs has to keep his brights on constantly to have a hope of seeing anything. It’s these straight, poorly maintained rural roads, just cutting through fields and absolutely nothing else. There’s the occasional farm, sort of Amish looking if Bdubs had to guess, but other than that it’s just empty land, pitch dark aside from what Bdubs’ headlights illuminate. He’s a little terrified that he’s going to hit a horse and buggy, or something. Do they have lights? Are they allowed to do that?
Bdubs is a little nervous, both about driving on these dark farm roads, and about meeting Etho. Why does Etho live this far away from anything, anyways? How the hell does he even get wifi?
Bdubs makes the last turn. The GPS lets him know that in three miles, his destination will be on the left. Bdubs’ hands are tight on the wheel, shoulders tense, and his right leg is absolutely exhausted.
There’s only a house about every half mile or so, all so far back from the road Bdubs can barely see them, just the peeks of light from windows through the trees. Finally, he approaches Etho’s house. It’s so far back from the road that until Bdubs turns into the driveway, he can’t see it at all. The driveway winds lightly back, until Bdubs approaches a cozy little house. There’s a shed out back that’s almost as big as the house, and there’s warm light coming from most of the windows, all the blinds drawn open. No need to leave them closed when he’s this far away from anyone that might be watching.
It’s a little log cabin-y, but not as much so as Bdubs had sometimes pictured. There’s a little front porch, with a welcome mat in front of the door and a bench off to the side, its paint peeling. There’s a toolbox and some assorted junk sitting on it, looking like they haven’t been gotten around to in a while.
It feels like a home.
It feels like Etho could really live here, could be a real person here.
And now, Bdubs can be a real person with him.
Bdubs parks, turns off the car, and carefully steps out the door, cursing his joints and back. He hobbles up to Etho’s front porch, takes a few deep breaths to steel himself.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Bdubs didn’t come all this way for nothing.
He can do this.
Bdubs raises his fist, and knocks on Etho’s front door.