Title: Secrets
Author: Joy
Rating: Fan-approved for 13+
Pairing: Byron/Jeff
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: In case you were wondering, a fork in a garbage disposal is really, really painful to hear. I apologize for the drama, but it had to be done. Any damage done will be repaired. ;) And yes, this fic made me cry while writing it, so you can cry too.
Byron was drying his hair when he heard the high-pitched shrieking that sounded like someone had caught their hand in the garbage disposal while trying to remove a fork.
He threw on his dirty pants, which luckily had landed on the bathroom floor as he had stripped on his way to the shower earlier. He vaulted over the bannister in time to see Adam and Jordan. With his diary. Reading aloud.
The sound was coming from Vanessa, who was apparently trying to drown out Adam while Jordan had her by the arm, twisting it behind her back. Adam was in the middle of a particular juicy passage when he saw Byron.
"'I swear I'm going to die if I don't find out what he's thinking...' Oh shit." Adam dropped the diary and faced him, hands on his hips. "What's all the girly shit for, huh, Byron?"
Vanessa continuing screaming, only now it contained words. "I tried to stop them I told them it was wrong I tried to stop him I tried to stop him I tried-" Byron cut her off with a Look.
His other triplet growled into his face, "So what's all this about Jeff? You two making out?"
Claire and Margo simply sat at the kitchen table, trying to stay invisible, until Claire poked her sister and whispered in the silence, "Did Byron do something bad? Is he gonna get grounded?"
Their parents had just walked in the door to witness everyone yelling at once, and Byron suddenly exploding with a screech, "JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" and pounding up the stairs.
Byron was debating whether to pack a suitcase or not when he heard his mother shouting for him, rather insistently. He poked his head out the door to shout he'd be right down when he spotted... Claire and Margo?... sitting in the hallway across the bedroom, watching with wide eyes.
Jogging down the stairs, he was met with a very sobering sight: his parents, Adam, and Jordan sitting around the kitchen table. The offending evidence was between them.
Byron seriously considering running upstairs to his room again and hiding under the bed. But his dad stood up and walked over, putting an arm around his trembing shoulder and guiding him to the table.
"Byron?" Dee started tentatively. "Do you... want to tell us something?"
Byron turned his head away, staring out the window. "You read it anyway, so why?"
He started visually planning doom before his eyes, no logical pattern to it, simply destruction of anything he had ever done, built, or loved. The shock kept him from bolting away again because he needed to cling to something solid to keep him from complete and utter breakdown.
Jordan got up, and violently kicked Byron's chair. "Why! We never kept secrets from each other before!" He turned bright red and folded his arms, glaring. Adam was silent, but the expression on his face said the same as Jordan's. Byron had violated some kind of Triplet Pact by not telling them his secret.
Not that he was certain of it himself. Kissing a boy and getting your feelings all mixed up every time his name was mentioned didn't necessarily mean you were... gay. All right, so maybe a little. Byron didn't want to label himself too soon.
Their dad turned to Jordan. "Please settle down, Jordan. I know you're upset, but so is Byron. You did force this out of him before he was ready."
"John, maybe we need to talk to Byron alone," said Dee, trying to deflate the situation.
"No!" shouted Adam and Jordan simultaneously. "He's our brother!"
Everyone cut short their argument as they heard the sound of a chair rattling back and forth. Byron's trembling had reached the point that it was reverberating the furniture. His face was pale and he was biting his lip so hard it appeared to be almost split in half. Cracked words made it through his mouth somehow. "Everybody...knows?"
Ashamed, his brothers lowered their heads. Their dad answered, "We got home and Adam was reading out loud."
A quick voice shouted from the doorway, "I tried to scream over him!"
"Vanessa! Go upstairs and play with your sisters!"
Byron started laughing softly and growing in volume, slightly hysterically. "Oh. So my entire family knows... Why don't you just call the Spiers next and ruin Jeff's life too! And while you're at it, tell everyone I sit for so I lose my job and call my teachers so they know to let the football players beat me up and please call the newspaper so they have great front page news and..." He burst into tears, simultaneously launching himself up the stairs and into his bedroom.
The bedroom suddenly didn't feel safe anymore. It had always been his refuge in other times. His blanket and pillow felt frigid and rough against his skin, and he punched his pillow so many times he started to feel the bedsprings against his knuckles. Then he grabbed his pillow, shoved it against his face, and screamed. Screamed until the tension in his back unfolded, screamed until his tears stopped, screamed until he felt the skin in his throat dry up.
His life was over, as far as he knew. He read the news; he knew what happened to "faggots". He was terrified; everyone would be watching him. Oh god, and then the parents of the kids. They would all accuse him of being Stoneybrook's own Michael Jackson. It was preferable to suffocate himself right now in this pillow.
He would have told his brothers, only he had been too scared. Well, at least Claire was too young to understand what the dirty words meant. She could rest safe in her illusion for the moment, and only in a few years would she learn their brother was a disgusting freak. His parents were only being supportive because they were in front of Adam and Jordan, but he was certain that if he had to face them alone they would rain down all sorts of disappointments on him.
A knock sounded at the door. "B? Can I come in?"
His head swung up at that. It was Adam, calling him by the nicknames they had used as young children. Adam was... knocking on his own door, asking... permission?
"Yeah," Byron answered.
Adam also looked like he wanted to cry. He held out the journal to Byron and then put it on the bed when Byron didn't reach out for it.
"B? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. I thought maybe it was an English assignment, but then I read some of it, and I just couldn't believe it. I was in shock and I wasn't thinking." When Byron didn't so much as move, he shouted, "Goddammit, Byron, I'm sorry!" Adam spun on his heel and was nearly out the door when Byron spoke.
"Adam? Do you think... I'm... bad?" Byron was beyond the point of eloquence.
His brother swung back, and for an instant Byron thought Adam was going to punch him, so he threw up his arms in reflex. Instead, Adam threw his arms around Byron, whispering, "Fuck no." The fact that Adam was hugging him sparked hope that maybe, just maybe, he might want to live.
Adam let go of him, adding, "Just... I don't think we're going to tell anybody, right? Keep it cool, B."
Jordan slipped through the door next, grabbing Adam's hand on the way through, transmitting some sort of courage.
"Okay, Byron. Like, it's okay. I don't care... I just wish you had told us. We should have guessed, but... we're stupid. Byron? Please say something."
"What, Jordan?" The bitter edge to his voice was starting to fade. "You know if anyone finds out, my life is ruined. There's nothing to say, because I don't want you to say anything."
Jordan smiled at him. "Ok. Just don't give us any details."
His parents came in next. Byron fell back on the bed, exhaling loudly. "This is starting to feel like a confession booth."
"If you don't want to talk, we can leave," said Dee, taking a step backwards.
"No," interrupted John. "We need to talk."
Byron lifted his head to look at his parents, both with worried looks on their faces. They hadn't done anything to hurt him; why was he taking it out on them?
"I don't need to talk about my feelings. I think I got that worked out all by myself. The only thing I'm worried about is... my baby-sitting. Those parents are going to totally freak out, Mom."
"It's none of their business. It doesn't affect your job performance any," counciled John, and Dee nodded in agreement.
"Fine. Good. Now, does anyone else want to talk to me, or can I go to bed early?" Byron curled around his pillow again, hugging it to his chest. He felt the thick tears welling up in his throat again, and he bent his face down against the fabric.
Dee leaned down and nuzzled a kiss through his dark hair, as John patted his shoulder comfortingly. The light switched off and Byron lay motionless as he forced himself into uneasy sleep.