"I've been hiding for years, Kyle. Years."
Kyle could feel Max's breath on his face, warm and balmy, smelling like pie and cheap whisky. He felt his cheeks grow hot as he realized that Max's hands were resting on his shoulders.
"But it's time the real Max comes out." Max slurred, swaying slightly, his long, dark lashes blinking lazily. Kyle's chest tightened, hoping that Max was about to say what Kyle had both been wishing and dreading he would say.
"You wouldn't be gay by any chance, would you?" Kyle choked out.
A goofy grin spread its way across Max's face. "You're funnyyy, Kyle. You're really FUNNY."
Kyle jerked awake. He had been having the same dream each night, each a cruel reminder of what had happened (or rather, what had NOT happened) that night. A hollow feeling welled up inside Kyle's chest. He turned over onto his stomach and pounded his pillow angrily with a fist. He didn't want to think about Max. He couldn't think about him. But…He just couldn't help himself.
His stomach let out a rumble of protest. Now might be the perfect time for a triple-decker salami sandwich to take his mind off of things…
Upon stumbling groggily into the kitchen, Kyle discovered that his father had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, a thick folder beside him. Work again, Kyle thought. He's always working. He shuffled over to where the sheriff's head lay on the table, his face facedown and squished slightly against the wood. He plucked the folder from the table and flipped it open to reveal the contents. He let out an reflexive gasp of surprise, nearly choking.
The folder contained something far different from what he had been expecting—picture upon picture of Max getting dressed, Max getting undressed, Max in his boxers and a t-shirt, Max shirtless, Max…Kyle choked again as his eyes soaked in the surface of Max's nude body. The photos were grainy and slightly unfocused, as though taken from a great distance by an unskilled photographer.
His hand trembling, Kyle grabbed the topmost photo and made a mad dash for his bedroom. Lying down upon the bed, he gazed at the photo, letting himself think things he shouldn't. He stroked his body, thinking of Max's flawlessly toned form, doing things and thinking things that Papa Valenti would kick his ass for if he ever found out.