Chapter Text
Kent’s dad picked up on the fourth ring.
“Kent,” he said, curt and disapproving. “Calling to apologise?”
Kent squeezed Ari’s hand as tight as he dared, fighting down years of terrified instincts. He thought of his mom, of Lydia and the pictures he’d seen of Essie and Ava, and willed himself to be calm. “Actually, no,” he said. “I’m calling to update you on some important developments in my life, and I’d appreciate if you’d hear me out before commenting on them.”
A grudging, mistrustful silence. “Go ahead.”
“First off, I need you to know that I’m gay. I’ve always been gay, and you’ve always called me that when you were angry, like it was an insult, but I don’t know if you ever actually realised it was true or not, so. I am, and I always will be, and at some point I’m going to come out publicly –”
“You selfish, cretinous, deviant fa–”
“Second,” Kent said loudly, cutting off his dad’s tirade at the expense of his heartrate, which was probably high enough to make his trainers worried, “Mom is back in my life.”
He could hear his dad’s breath getting louder, angrier by the second. “That fucking gold-digging bitch, what the fuck does she want from you other than money –”
“Nothing that you’d think of as valuable, that’s for goddamn sure,” snapped Kent, then forced himself to rein it in. He looked at Ari, drawing strength from his touch, his presence, and somehow found the courage to keep speaking. “The night she left, when I was a kid? I was listening when you fought with her. I heard everything. I heard you threaten to kill us both if she ever tried to take me away.”
His father scoffed. “You think I meant that? You think I’m really that sort of man?”
“You’re absolutely that sort of man,” said Kent, “and thank you, by the way, for not denying that you said it – because that’s the third thing. I’m recording this call, and I’m having it on speaker with a witness nearby, too. This is all going on the record, and if anything ever happens to me, or mom, or anyone we care about, and there’s any reason whatsoever to believe that you were involved in it, then I’m taking this to the police.”
Absolute silence.
“You’d dare,” his dad said, voice shaking with rage, but also – Kent clutched at Ari, hardly daring to believe it – a tiny trace of fear. “You’d dare to threaten me? My reputation? After everything I sacrificed to get you where you are today, you’d throw it away for sodomy and a faithless bitch?”
Beside him, Ari made a low, furious sound in his throat, barely keeping from interjecting. “You didn’t sacrifice shit,” said Kent, his anger bleeding into his voice. “You paid other people to make sure I was good enough to impress you, and when you didn’t have mom around to beat on anymore, you took it out on me. I owe you nothing, and I never have – not respect, not your reputation, and certainly not my silence. So here’s what’s going to happen.”
He drew a breath, astonished that his dad didn’t seize the chance to jump in again, and bulled ahead with all he had. “Mom’s going to be at my game tonight, and at some point in the near future, I’m probably going to be interviewed about reconnecting with her again. Now, I don’t know if she’ll want the truth about what you did to her out in the open – that’s her decision to make, and I’ll respect it either way – but I have every intention of telling the truth about how you treated me. And when that happens, you’re not going to throw a screaming fit. You’re not going to try and track her down to harass her, or send bullying calls to the Aeros’ front office, or think about paying someone to hurt any of us, or try to get away with hurting us yourself. If the press comes to you to confirm or deny our stories, unless you suddenly grow a conscience and feel like telling the actual truth, you’re going to say no comment and politely turn them away – and otherwise, dad? You’re going to shut the fuck up and get on with your life, because as of right now, I want nothing more to do with you ever again.”
What followed was an exercise in futile, impotent rage. His dad swore and cursed, predictably too angry to care about being recorded, and Kent said nothing: didn’t rise to his baits, didn’t answer his questions. It was exhausting, terrifying and yet, at the same time, weirdly liberating. He stared at his phone, tuning out the vitriol spewing from the speaker, and felt a strange, almost dissociative calm steal over him. Without the threat of fists or the fear of control, his dad was nothing but an angry voice, and all Kent had to do now was wait for him to tire himself out, like the world’s shittiest, most bigoted toddler screaming his way through a tantrum.
When the shouting finally started to peter out, Kent picked up the phone and said, mildly, “Are you done?”
No answer; only furious huffing.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Goodbye, Richard,” Kent said, and hung up the call. As if in a dream, he blocked his dad’s number, made sure the recording was safely stored both on his phone and in the cloud, set his regular afternoon nap alarm, put the phone on the charger, and then walked steadily to the ensuite, where he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up every scrap of the beautiful pasta Ari had made for lunch.
Ari was there in a heartbeat, rubbing his back and getting him a glass of water. Kent let out a single sob, then laughed as he sat up and rinsed his mouth out, spitting bile as he flushed the mess away. He stood on wobbly legs and brushed his teeth, barely conscious of anything but Ari’s arms around his waist, his forehead pressed to the nape of Kent’s neck.
When Kent was done, he turned around and melted into Ari’s arms, wrung out and shivery with it.
“That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ari murmured, carding his fingers through Kent’s hair. “You were amazing.”
“Don’t feel amazing right now,” said Kent, chuckling weakly. His stupid eyes were wet, again, and he had the belated realisation that therapy of some sort would probably be an excellent way of investing in his future. “Keep telling me, though. It helps.”
“That’s no hardship,” said Ari. “You’re always amazing to me.”
They stumbled back to bed, stripping naked as Ari turned out the lights, then cuddled in close together, skin on skin. There was nothing sexual about it, but it settled Kent, anchoring him back to the room and the present moment; back to the wealth of happiness he’d suddenly been given and been brave enough to fight for.
He was almost asleep when the door creaked open; apparently, they hadn’t shut it all the way. A few seconds of silence followed, and then Kit appeared on the end of the bed, her fluffy tail a magnificent plume as she stalked up the covers and curled herself up on Kent’s pillow.
“Hey, princess,” he murmured, voice only a little watery as he skritched her head. Kit yawned and shut her eyes, chin resting on her paws.
Ari laughed softly. “She really does love you for more than your human thumbs.”
“I guess she does,” said Kent, and fell asleep to the gentle sound of purring.