At Long Last

he felt.
    "The problem is, Pres, everyone already knows I'm gay. I came out several years ago and my family knows I'm seeing someone. Don't worry, they don't know it's you. But they are eventually going to want know who it is." Scotty buried his face in his hands. "What am I supposed to say then? The guy I'm with is too ashamed of me to admit our relationship?"
    "Scotty."
    "Do you even know what that means? You always keep separate houses, separate expenses, you can never spend holidays together. You're never really together. Never." Scotty removed his hands from his face and finally looked at Preston. There was no mistaking the tears welling in his eyes. "If this were a hundred years...even thirty years ago, I probably would be okay with that. But I've already accepted who and what I am and I can't go back to pretending otherwise."
    "You said you love me," Preston pointed out, grasping. "If you do, then why can't you accept that this is the only way it will work for me?"
    "I do love you. But I also have something called self-respect, Pres. Too much to be someone's dirty little secret."
    "You don't understand." Preston felt a little desperate. This wasn't how this conversation was supposed to go. "I have children. They can't...I can't let them know about me. I can't have them thinking I'm abnormal."
    "Like me?"
    "Scotty, I--"
    "That's why you had the phone book out the other day turned to the listing of psychiatrists, isn't it? You put it away, but I saw it before you did. You think I'm some sort of freak and you hate the fact you might be just like me."
    "I don't think you are a freak."
    "You think I'm abnormal ," Scotty said, his voice faltering on the last word. He stood up. "I have to get out of here."
    "What? No. Please, it doesn't have to be like this." Preston stood up, too, his hand shooting out to stop Scott from moving.
    "You know I both wanted and feared having this conversation. I wanted to have it because I hoped, dreamed really, that you would tell me you loved me and wanted to spend the rest of our lives together and you didn't care who knew it. But I feared it would go exactly as it has. I should have known. Any dreams I ever have only end up badly."
    Scott shook his head, shrugging off Preston's hand from his arm. He walked to the door.
    Preston followed. "Don't do this, Scotty. I don't want you to go. I want you to stay."
    Scott's hand froze on the doorknob and he turned to face Preston. "Do you love me?"
    Preston's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His mind fractured. Men didn't love men. Not romantically.
    "Jesus, you should see your face right now. You look like you want to puke, Preston. You can't even make yourself say it. Because you don't. You don't love me and you never will. Sure, you like the sex, but so fucking what, huh? You can find some other sucker to be your dirty little secret and he probably won't demand anything else from you, like for you to give a shit about him."
    Preston couldn't breathe. He wanted to tell Scott he was so wrong. He tried to speak, but emotion clogged his throat.
    Tears streamed down Scotty's cheeks and he shook his head. "I'm sorry. That wasn't nice. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry, Preston. Really. I wish I could just hide the way I feel and be what you want me to be. I can't. Coming out was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I did it and my family and friends accept me and love me still. I can't go back. Not even for you."
    Scott turned his back on him, opened the door and left Preston's house. His life.
    Preston went to the closed door. "Scotty, please." His hand pressed to the front door, he wanted to go after him. Wanted to beg Scott to give him another chance. He'd try. He would. But he would be lying just to make the other man stay. He couldn't come out. Not ever.
    He sunk to the floor with his back against the door, misery and loneliness hanging over him like a thick cloud.

    * * * *
    Scotty dropped to a crouch on Preston's front doorstep, burying his face in his hands. The tears flowed freely now.
    He couldn't catch his breath. His chest hurt. His head hurt. His stomach hurt. Every part of him ached with near mind-numbing agony. He almost wished he would drop dead right there in front of Preston's house.
    Maybe if he started the day over, he could avoid the conversation where Preston had forced him to end it. Refused to talk about it just as Preston had these last few weeks.
    But he could dream and wish and hope forever. It