“You have no idea how much pressure I’m under all the fucking time, bro. Every second of every day, I have to be perfect. The perfect boyfriend. The perfectman. Ready to record or be recorded at any minute. Look perfect, too. If I miss a workout, she calls me a fat slob. It’s fucking awful, bro. I can’t take it. And how she fucking makes me feel. Like I’m worthless. The only thing going for me is her. And that I’d be a sissy little bitch if she didn’t know how to make me a real man.”
I had the urge to vomit since I woke up. He made it worse. “Jesus fucking Christ, Miles. That’s worse than I thought.”
“I know.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I knew on some level she was fucked up, but I played her up to everyone.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you.” My voice strained, and my head throbbed. Those few hours’ sleep weren’t enough.
“No, man. Not after everything. I kept wanting to tell you. Call you up. But then I was like, he hates me.” He cried harder. “Ifelt like such a piece of shit in Miami. And, and, and, the whole wedding party thing. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I took a second. The words,It’s all good, bro, no worries, were about to leave my lips. But that wasn't what he needed to hear. He needed to know Bree was a homophobic piece of trash, and just how badly his actions, and inactions, had hurt me.
“You can always call me, man. No matter what. I love you, you're my brother, but I’m not gonna pretend this shit didn’t fuck me up.” My eyes stung staring at his. “What you did really fucking hurt me.”
He wiped his eyes on his arm. “I know, Ry, and I’m so fucking sorry.”
My body was so heavy, and my stomach wasn’t getting any better. I couldn’t stand seeing him like that. “I know it was more her than you, but you let it happen, man.”
“I did, and that’s on me. But she got in my head, bro.”
I tensed my eyes. “She got in your head? Are you a bigot, too, now? She told me, right before we left for the stag night, that being gay was inappropriate.”
His tone darkened as he swallowed. “Trust me, she’s said much worse than that about you.”
“Like what?”
“That you’re a narcissist with a hero complex who kept me down my whole life so you could shine.”
I blinked twice, no longer able to be surprised by that woman. “Do you believe that?”
Miles broke down again. “No, man! No! Of course not. But she had me lying to myself about my own life experiences.” He sobbed harder. “And… And then Mom asked me all this stuff, and I was like, holy fucking shit, is it really that bad?”
“What did she ask you?”
Miles explained their conversation, reliving the wounds as if he suffered them sitting on my couch. I was wrong. Whatmy brother told me was… She wasn’t just some stuck-up, holier-than-thou narcissist influencer. She was full-blown abusive. My mouth filled with saliva over and over. Each revelation hammered my forehead, blurred my vision, and made my gut worse.
My immediate instinct was to fall into big brother mode. Find her, and make it painfully clear that if she ever so much as spoke my brother’s name aloud again, I’d devote the rest of my life to ruining hers.
But he didn’t need my protection. Had I expressed how hurt I was, maybe Miles wouldn’t have been with her as long as he was. If I weren’t scared of being a burden or my sexuality being uncomfortable, I fucking would have.
By the end, he was sobbing and hiccuping. “I just… I’m so fucking sorry. I felt terrible about the best man shit. But then I thought maybe it wasn’t a big deal, ‘cause you didn’t seem that mad. I can’t fucking believe I let her do that to me.” He pressed his hands into his eyes so hard I was afraid they’d rupture.
I pulled him into a hug. The pit of anger in my volatile stomach and the hollow hurt in my chest were still there, but no matter what, he was my brother.
“It’s okay, man. It’s okay,” I said, crying too.
“I’m so sorry, Ryder. I fucked up so bad.” We hugged until he calmed down. When he sat back, he said, “Great, now I made my big brother cry, too.”
“At least I don’t have snot all over my face.”
“No, only on your shirt.”
When I looked down, there was a small wet spot from his tears. “Fucking gross, man,” I said, shoving him and laughing.
Miles laughed, too, leaving his face gaunt and exhausted.
I said, “Can I just… ask you why?”
“Why, what?”
