Chapter Text
It turns out that neither Larry nor Sal can cook that well, even after their separate promises of making Travis food. That much was evident by the burnt, now trashed, pancakes Larry tried to make him.
It’s probably for good reason, he reasons with himself, since they don’t have parents like his dad. They’ve probably never needed to cook for themselves, and even if they have, it probably wasn’t like how he constantly needed to cook for both him and his dad.
Men don’t cook, his dad always told him. The women cook, and they provide. It’s why God created them.
He never really believed it, even when he was a kid and he was extra impressionable. Watching shows starring Gordon Ramsey and other countless male chefs with his mom made sure of that. But his mom still cooked, just taking his father’s words with a smile, seemingly happy with his thoughts.
Of course, it turns out his mom wasn’t okay with it, because she left. And suddenly there were no women in the house to cook, so somebody had to do it. But of course his dad couldn’t, because he was the parent, and Travis was the child.
Whenever he complained about it, his dad always pulled out his Bible. He has the verse memorized perfectly with how often his dad quoted it, could even hear it clearly in his voice.
Ephesians 6: 1-2: Children, obey your parents in the Lord: for this is right. Honor thy father and mother; which is the first commandment with promise.
…It’s probably for the best that the two don’t know how to cook that well, even if he felt a little bitter about how they got parents that actually cooked for them enough to not warrant the skill.
So, he's the one making breakfast now.
Breakfast was always easy to him. It was always the same things: bacon, eggs, and pancakes. He didn’t have to come up with something new like he did with lunch and dinner, didn’t have to worry about his dad yelling at him for making the same meal in two weeks.
…
Absentmindedly, while he’s pushing the bacon around with tongs, he notices Ashley hugging Sal and saying goodbye, something about having to watch ‘Ben’ again. Probably a younger brother, or maybe a pet. He watches from the corner of his eye as she waves to the living room, before turning and smiling and waving at… him?
He turns his head to look around, questioning why she would be waving goodbye to him – when he sees Todd leaning on a counter behind him. That makes him jump a little too harshly, and he tries to push down the compounded embarrassment in him as he refocuses on not burning the bacon.
That’s why she was waving. It was for Todd. Not him.
He doesn’t know why it makes him feel so bad, makes his stomach churn. It’s not like he’s delusional enough to think she suddenly likes him as a person now, much less remotely forgiving him. The first thing he felt was utter confusion, not something stupid like hope .
And yet.
It felt nice, for a second. To be smiled at so genuinely. To be waved at. To be told goodbye, and see you later . And it felt weird knowing it wasn’t actually meant for him.
…He doesn’t know why he’s looking so deeply into it. She’s already left, the door closed and the apartment empty of one more person.
“You okay?” Todd’s voice breaks his line of thought, making him jolt again. He shakes it off, nodding as he fishes out the rest of the cooked bacon, placing the pieces on a paper towel next to him. He separates the chewier pieces from the crunchier ones as he nods.
“Yeah, I’m good.” He shuts his mouth, setting the pan to the back of the stove so the bacon grease could cool, and he reaches for the measuring bowl full of eggs and milk, already whisked. Todd hums, but says nothing else, so he decides to take it as a good sign as he continues in their silence.
He hopes only scrambled eggs will be fine. Todd said earlier that he prefers them, and he prefers them too, but Sal and Larry's answers were… more confusing. They didn’t really answer his question at all, and just said they didn’t care about the eggs, to just make whatever he likes. It should be fine, but his mind just wanders to how they’re going to be mad at him when he presents the food. He should’ve just asked further, probed them for a better fucking answer than just make whatever, because of course they’re not gonna be okay with just whatever.
“Hey,” Todd breaks the silence, interrupts his loud thoughts, “If it’s alright to ask, why were you kicked out?”
The question makes his mind go blank, makes his ears ring. It takes him a little too long to realize he’d already poured all of the eggs into the new pan in front of him, and he slowly sets the measuring bowl down as he processes the words.
In all his wallowing and self pity, he somehow forgot that they knew . Not just Sal, they did, too. They knew everything , or at least more than what the rest of their town knew. They all saw the bruises, the injuries he had, the broken phone, and they knew it was from his dad. He doesn’t know how he deluded himself into thinking they were stupid enough to not piece it together, how he thought they wouldn’t be curious about any of it. He guesses they do deserve answers, since he was the one intruding on them .
Todd’s words break through his spiraling thoughts again, pulling him back to reality. “You don’t have to tell me, by the way. Just thought I’d ask.”
His mouth moves before his mind does, “Uh– no, no it’s okay, it’s just…” After an awkward beat, he shrugs, focusing on the monotonous action of stirring the eggs, pushing them around the pan. “It’s kinda stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” Todd says it so matter-of-factly, so sure of himself that it almost makes him a little more sure of himself, “If you got hurt over it, it’s not stupid.”
“…I guess. But, uh.” Heat fills his face at the realization of how hypocritical he was, and still is. He almost considers listening to Todd’s words, taking up his offer to not talk about it, to stall before he could actually say it, but guilt and shame seizes him, and he’s speaking before he can even think of what to say.
“It– uh, I guess my dad found out I’m gay.” The admission feels like ash in his mouth, so he just swallows and continues as he stirs the eggs, “But– obviously I never told him about any of the thoughts I had, and– I was acting like an asshole in school ‘cause I didn’t want anyone else to know, so I just thought he’d never know until I was like… moved out or something. It just came out of nowhere.”
He takes a deep breath, knowing he’s probably going to reveal way more information than Todd wanted when he asked, but he needs to at least try to say it out loud. Maybe it’ll feel more real if he does. “I went home after school yesterday, and he was acting normal, so I thought everything was fine. And then, a couple hours later, I start making dinner and– he must’ve been in my room or went through the entire trash can because he just came storming in with this ripped up letter I wrote a few days ago.” He takes another breath, explaining, “I write down letters a lot, and then throw them away when I’m done. Usually I rip them up, ‘cause they have stuff in it my dad would really hate. Like, sometimes I pretend I’m talking to my mom and I make up stuff about this new life she could be having, and I tell her that’s so nice, here’s what's been going on in my life since you asked and you’re really interested in how I’m doing and how I’m feeling, and– yeah. Embarrassing stuff like that.”
He sniffs, shrugging. “But, uh, anyway, he storms into the kitchen, holding up a piece of one of my letters he dug from the trash and shoving it in my face, asking me if it was true that I was– uh, what was his wording… struggling with homosexual desires?” He laughs to himself, appreciating when Todd quietly does the same, “Which in hindsight is a really funny phrase but– scary at the time. And, y’know, I’m surprised by this, and I just… freeze. I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t even think of lying about it, and he just starts yelling at me, and–“ hitting me, punching me, kicking me, beating the fuck out of me, “And– yeah.” After a second, he shrugs, “I dunno. He hasn’t really tried talking to me at all, much less told me to come back yet, so I don’t… really think I can.”
He shuts his mouth after that, swallowing again. Todd doesn’t say anything either, but Travis feels his eyes on his back. Maybe if he keeps his own eyes on the eggs, he’ll let it go.
“…So, what, all that bullying and shitty attitude was just because you’re gay? All of… that, calling us faggots and queers and flamers and shit, was actually just you being scared of being gay? That really was just internalized homophobia?”
Todd’s tone is just a little sharper than his normal, monotone pitch, but the slight difference makes his heart rate pick up and his face heat up in shame anyways.
He’s never even heard of the phrase internalized homophobia, but the words make his brain click into place, and suddenly so many more things make actual fucking sense.
Travis nods shakily, keeping his eyes on the pan in front of him. “Uh, I– yeah, I guess so. I mean, it’s not like all because of it, but– it–“ He taps the wooden spoon against the pan, breathing in while he tries to find his words,
“…The way I thought about it was that it was, like– bad?” He sighs, “Of course you fucking know I thought it was bad, Jesus.”
Todd snorts, but he says nothing else, so he keeps on with his word-vomit, “I mean it like– you’ve probably heard what my dad’s like, and what he preaches. How he preaches.”
The loud, booming voice that bounces against the walls, the banging of the Bible on the pulpit and the stomping of his foot that seems to shake the whole building. The fury in his eyes when he addresses the crowd and warns them of damnation, how Satan creeps into their lives and takes hold of their most shameful thoughts and desires and convinces you to enable them. That same fury in his eyes whenever he looks at him, always sat front and center during church, as the pastor’s son should be.
Todd makes an agreeing noise after a second, and he takes it as a sign that Todd doesn’t hate what he’s hearing. It fills him with a little hope, that he immediately tries to push down. “He’s just– he’s like that all the time, but, more , I guess. He always, uh…” Interrogates me about my day, who I hang out with, what I do. Always screams at me to tell him the truth, punishes me for my answers because he’s convinced I’m lying, tells me I’m going to be damned for my deceit, “...He just always talked to me about sin, and the consequences of my actions. Especially when it came to stuff like… that, and how even thinking about it meant I was gonna ‘suffer in Hell for all eternity’, And I just…”
…What can he even say to explain it? He was pathetic, excusing his own actions, his choices, on somebody else. Blaming how he was on his father.
And yet.
“…I dunno. He’s all I had.” After a beat, he shakes his head, “I was stupid for listening to him. I shouldn’t have let him get to me like that, and– uh, you guys didn’t deserve any of that. I’m sorry.”
Todd doesn’t say anything, but he still feels his eyes on the back of his head, so he opens his stupid mouth and babbles on. “I mean– you probably already know you didn’t deserve it, and I, uh. I– I didn’t mean for it to sound like I’m excusing any of it ‘cause my dad was just kinda shitty sometimes. I know it’s my own fault, ‘cause I’m the one who said and did all that shit, but, uh–“
“Travis.” Todd says sharply, and he shuts his mouth.
This is it. This is when Todd yells at him, hits him back, gets angry at him. This is when Todd finally gives him what he knows he deserves, what he’s been expecting all this time. This is when Todd tells him that he’s a piece of shit, and to get the fuck out and go back to his own house, and everyone will agree with him, even Sal. Sal has to, because of course he’s gonna side with Todd, a good friend and a naturally nice person, over him, some asshole who finally feels bad after all the damage is already done. He knows the niceties had to end sooner or later, he knows everyone is just pretending to be nice to him after what he had done to all of them.
…But none of that ever comes. Instead, a firm hand settles on his shoulder, forcing him back to reality. The eggs in front of him are done, the stove now turned off, though he doesn’t remember exactly when he did that, and he’s still stirring them around in the pan. His own hands are shaking, occasionally making the wooden spoon quietly clang against the metal
He turns his head slightly to look at Todd, who’s now standing next to him and looking at him with a strange expression. It looks like a scrunched mix of pity and discomfort, but he’s still trying to stay flat and deadpan. It looks like it’s physically hurting him to maintain.
“Chill out. I get it.” Todd pats his shoulder briefly before dropping his hand, wiping it on his own shirt. “I know you’re not trying to excuse it.”
Todd’s reassurance makes his heart pick up again, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a rushed, “ Really? ” tumbling out of his mouth before he could think.
“Really. And, listen, I don’t forgive you yet,” He feels his face drop, and Todd must have noticed it too with how rushed his next words are, “ But . But, I will eventually. Just because I don’t forgive you now doesn’t mean you have to leave or anything. I’m not gonna bite your head off, and I’m not gonna try to make you feel like you don’t belong here.”
He nods quickly, fearing that questioning Todd will make him change his mind, “Yeah– I mean, uh. Thank you. And sorry.”
“Don’t mention it.” Todd waves his hand, “You were shitty, but it’s better that you’re trying to fix it now instead of just doubling down.”
“...I guess.” He shrugs, finally placing the wooden spoon down in the pan. “It’d just be nicer if I realized and tried fixing it sooner. Prob’ly would’ve been less fucked up.”
Todd shrugs too, tilting his head to the side and opening a cabinet to pull out a few plates, “Maybe. But, hey, being fucked up comes with being in the group, so you’re already halfway there.”
“Oh, so that’s how I finally get friends?” He turns to look at Todd, invigorated by the other's small joke, “By being fucked up? Not by being a good person or anything?”
“Well, you can be fucked up and still be a good person, those traits aren’t mutually exclusive.” Todd rolls his eyes, quietly laughing with him when he tries to hide his snicker. They quickly fall into silence after that, the only sounds coming from him moving on to starting the pancakes.
Turning his mind off while he falls into his routine feels a little easier, now.