AN: Another double post :). This is the last chapter, thank you everybody for reading. I have a continuation, about 75 percent done at ~20K words, but I don't think I'll start posting very soon. In a month or two, once I finish it, hopefully. Meanwhile I'll try to bring other HSM fics I had only posted elsewhere. Thank you again!
You ask for a two-week vacation. Your boss only gives you one, so you try to back your request, defend your rights, loudly protest - but he doesn't change his mind, and you have to admit defeat. Your co-workers publicly bicker with you, complain about how much of a bastard he is; but they also exchange secret smiles with you, clearly knowing that, if you really had wanted two weeks off, you would have asked for four.
Chad is silently fuming, clearly not pleased at leaving the city. Still he complies, not grumbling even once about the vacation days he will not spend with his friends. It is until your first stop, when you throw him the keys, that his face brightens and a smile comes to his face and stays there for a while. Charlotte is sleeping in the back seat and as you expected, your son is more willing to talk when he is the one behind the wheel.
You are more willing to talk too, as now you can take your attention from the road without killing your little family. And so, what stars like idle chat eventually turns serious, and you are appalled to discover Chad is really worried about you. He tiptoes around a dozen subjects -how are things with your boss, your job, grandma-, never pausing too long in any of them. But there's a question he keeps repeating in multiple variations, one that hangs in every word he says.
Are you okay?
You don't know what to say. Except, you do. You explain him there's a lot going in your head, job is fine to certain extent, mom is okay, your boss is still an asshole; but you admit something has been bothering you. He remains silent, waiting for you to elaborate, and so you have no other choice but to say you think he's been keeping things from you. And, you hurry to explain, even if it happens to be true you are not complaining. He has every right to keep part of his life private. You understand.
It takes another hour and a half for you to reach the hotel, an hour and a half you two spend in silence. He only speaks then, offering to take care of his sister while you get a room. You nod and leave, then return a little after, and he follows you with Charlotte on his arms. It takes the two of you a couple trips, but then there's no more luggage to unload, and you look at each other awkwardly. You should wish him good night, take your toothbrush, get into the bathroom. But you can't. Apparently, neither does him.
Are you tired? he eventually asks, and you shake your head. No. He nods and points to the balcony, where two chairs wait. The night is cool and windy, the sound and light trails makes it impossible for you to forget how close to the highway you are staying; but you don't care. All you care right now, all that matters, is your son's obvious pain. His face is open, and he's so obviously scared that you wish you were able to take your words back.
But you can't now, and so all you can do is listen. Listen to everything he hasn't told you these last months. Listen him stutter while acknowledging there is someone, this person he shouldn't be in love with, but he is. Listen while he recalls little moments, emotions; smile when he smiles, feel you throat constrict when his voice shakes. Listen when he admits he's scared, he's never felt nothing like this, he doesn't know what to do.
It's almost dawn when he finally stops, and his silence makes you realize you probably should say something. How you support him, no matter what. How he should pursue this girl his heart wants, never give up. You probably should, but you can't, not now. It doesn't matter, though, as Chad breaks the silence with one last remark.
Mom, I'm gay.
