Another love

I confessed to my roommate, Ethan.

His response? He crucified me online. A post on the campus forum, practically naming me, screamed, "My roommate is a disgusting, perverted faggot!"

I had no choice but to switch rooms. My new roommate, thankfully, was "one of us"—no judgment, no disgust.

But Ethan? He completely lost it. Like a man possessed, he started spending every night in my old room, lingering until lights out.

1.

Before confessing, I'd braced myself for rejection. I figured it was a standard confession, two possible outcomes: success, we're a couple; failure, we're strangers.

But when that forum post—the one calling me a "disgusting, perverted faggot"—hit number one, I knew my life wasn't going to be standard anymore. A dull ache spread through my chest. I gripped my pen, Ethan's twisted way of answering me. A lesson in not overstepping, in not having silly, naive hopes.

Liking a guy, apparently, was perverse, disgusting, a stain too filthy to even mention. Only I was naive enough to think I just liked a guy. No big deal.

Ha. Like it wasn't a big deal.

2.

I walked back to the dorm, pale and under a gauntlet of stares. My three roommates were inside, arguing about something. The moment I opened the door, silence. Three pairs of eyes locked onto me. I looked up. My bedding was piled in the middle of the room, soaked. It reeked of alcohol.

My RA, Chad, glared at me with disgust and pulled on a face mask. "Who knows what kind of germs you perverts carry," he said, his voice muffled. "Disinfecting is the least we can do for our own safety!" He waved a form. "God, sharing a room with a freak, how gross. Did you guys fill out the room change requests?"

I paused, hand on my chair. Room change? They were leaving? Because I…liked guys?

My gaze shifted to the desk next to mine. "Ethan, you too?"

Ethan, legs propped up on the desk, was playing a video game, seemingly unfazed. He paused, looked up, and stared at me. Then, with a smirk directed at the other two, he said, "What else would I do?"

3.

Any hope I'd clung to turned to ash. I muttered "Oh" and started packing. "If you want me out, just say it. Don't need this whole charade." "I like guys, I haven't suddenly sprouted boobs."

They kept talking about moving, but none of them actually packed a thing. This whole performance was just to pressure me, to make me leave. All this passive-aggressive bullshit. They were the ones being dishonest and cowardly.

My anger fueled my movements, and I packed roughly. A Tang dynasty-style horse figurine Ethan had made for me in pottery class tumbled out of the box and shattered on the floor.

Ethan's face went white. He tossed his phone aside. "Shit! Caleb, are you insane?!"

4.

I can't even describe how I felt. I wasn't normally impulsive. If I hadn't sensed something different from Ethan, a tiny signal, a flicker of hope…I never would've confessed.

That horse. Ethan made it for me, not his clingy ex-girlfriend. She’d begged, sulked, and threatened, but he ref...