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Is he wearing this for Colin? Is that asshole trying to change him already?
“I’m wearing clothes,” he grumbles as I push my way inside his apartment. He stumbles back and huffs in annoyance as I slam the door shut and lock it. “You can’t just barge in here.”
“I do it all the time.”
“What do you want?” he sighs. “I don’t have time for this.”
“What I want is for you to change your fucking clothes. You look like a clown.”
He flings his hands up into the air and grumbles. “I know that, Sem, but I’m meeting my dad and older brother for breakfast and….”
I cock my head at him, and he sighs, his hands on his trim hips, “They don’t know I’m gay, okay? I mean, it’s not like I hide it, but they just think I’m effeminate. I wear this, so they just leave me alone, okay? If I don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it. They’ll be on me about it for days. Next Christmas, they’ll still bring it up. I just can’t….”
“Do they make fun of how you dress?” I ask, my heart thumping angrily in my chest. First Colin and now Maggie’s asshole family. I’m going to fucking erupt. Watch out, Chernobyl, I'm almost radioactive.
“Yes, they would, and they do. And I’m not in the mood for it. I just want the morning to pass peacefully without any comments about my clothes or my figure or the way I walk. And one of the ways that I can guarantee some peace is if I dress like this.”
He gestures to his outfit, and I see red. Literally, I see it. It nearly blinds me.
Without even thinking, I reach, grab onto the neckline of his shirt, and yank the fabric apart.
It tears in half with an audibleriiiiiip.
Maggie gasps, his eyes wide. “What the hell, Sem? Why’d you do that?”
“You’re not wearing this shit,” I bite out, balling up the ruined shirt and dropping it onto the floor. I’m going to burn it next weekend. Blow it the fuck up. Maybe shoot it first, too.
I move my hands to his pants and rip them open before he can move away. The zipper breaks, and the button flies across the room.
“Sem!” Maggie squeals, and I bend down, tugging his jeans to his ankles.
“You’re not wearing this shit,” I repeat. He exhales shakily and then steps out of them because what else can he do? I demolished them.
As soon as he’s free of those ugly ass clothes, I shred them in my hands, tearing them right down the middle and feel better almost immediately.
“Oh my god,” Maggie whispers, eyeing the heap of fabric on the floor. His cheeks are flushed, his hands shaking slightly. “I don’t have any other straight guy clothes in my closet. I’m so screwed.”
“Wear your normal fucking clothes.”
Maggie’s eyes flash up to meet mine, and he shakes his head. He looks so dejected. “I can’t.”
“You can,” I say softly.
I move toward him and gently clasp his chin and force his wary gaze to meet mine. “Don’t let those fuckers make you feel bad about yourself. You’re perfect. Just the way you are.”
He swallows roughly, and I can’t help myself. I pick him up. I lift him into my arms as easily as those children I threw around yesterday. His legs automatically wrap around my waist, his arms tightening around my neck as I carry him to the bedroom. He clings to me, his face buried in my shoulder, and my chest expands with delight at how close he is to me.
I hold him with one arm and begin shuffling through the clothes hanging in his closet with my other hand.
“Wear this,” I say, holding out a red midriff shirt I’m slightly obsessed with.
“No, not that. They will die if they see me in that.”
I huff, “Good riddance then,” and then pull out a button-up short-sleeved shirt with little pigs on it.
“Yeah, okay,” Maggie says and then he slides off of me, grabbing the shirt and tugging it on. I move to his dresser and pick out a pair of shorts that I’ve seen him wear. They’re my favorite, a little shorter than they should be. They show off a lot of leg. I toss them to him, and he pulls them on.
“Sem, will you…I know this isn’t what we do, but…will you come with me?” he asks, looking so fucking small. He fiddles nervously with the buttons on his shirt, and I notice. I fuckingseeit.
