Brandon. Yes, THAT Brandon.

Harder than Putty

a/n: GUYS I'm sorry but this chapter is going to ahhh you. I mean, from what you've read so far, just... prepare yourself.

@exoticfinn this is so freaking for you.

I don't say much to anyone once we're back home. Mom begs me to watch a movie with her in the living room to lighten up, but I decline nicely, and retreat to my room. Aiden joins me half an hour later with a pack of donuts and a can of beer.

"Really, kid. Do you know whose house you're in?" I ask softly. She shrugs, handing me the food and drink. "Thanks." I wonder how she snuck the beer inside, but I won't ask.

"Anytime." She sits on the edge of my bed, facing Satan-Roger. He just glares at her, unmoving. In a few days, I'll have to feed him. I suppose I'll let Aiden do it.

I'm tempted to ignore my phone as it dings.

Shelby: call me? What happened?

Brandon: I'm just tired. No biggie. your house is nice, tho.

Shelby: ...

Shelby: ok thanks.hey i'll see you tomorrow I guess. Good luck @ the game. Get some sleep.

Brandon: definitely. Goodnight

"I just spent twenty minutes looking up 'bisexual' online. You're probably bi. Don't let those assholes convince you otherwise," Aiden finally says. I haven't touched the donuts, so she opens them up for me. "Brandon, I'm serious. I don't think that bi isn't a real thing, you know? They're just trying to find a reason to hate you. If you were straight they'd hate you for that. If you were gay they'd say you weren't... I don't know, 'gay enough' or something. I think they just hate that Shelby has way cooler friends than they are. You don't actually believe that, do you?"

"I don't know, Aiden," I sigh. "It makes sense, you know? I've barely had a girl on my mind since I've kissed Conner. I mean for goodness sakes, Logan... I'm just so confused. And I fucking hate that word because people think all bisexual people are confused but I am and I have no way of getting around it. It's gotten to the point that I don't even want to room with any guys tomorrow because I'm afraid I'll stare or freak them out or something. And that really fuckin' sucks, you know?" I feel my lungs get heavy and thick, as if my problems somehow become physical and pile on my chest one by one.

Then there's that irksome stinging of unshed tears that I've felt practically every hour since Dad told me what's been going on.

I bury my face in my pillow and groan, exasperated and angry, to avoid crying again.

"Brandon, you shouldn't ever worry about that," Aiden says softly. "Who needs labels anyway?"

I hurl the pillow across the room in a sudden rush of fury.

"Me! I need the labels and I-I need to know who I am and maybe I can't be strong like you and Shelby and even fucking Pipp! You guys can go through life not giving a shit and being your own person, but I give all the shits, you know that? I care so much and I want to know how I feel and maybe I can't figure it out on my own. Maybe I just want to put a word to the way I feel because I give a shit. That's what I want to do, okay? Who cares if bisexual is just a word? People like Jetta may think it means nothing-but you know what? I've gone through five years of school with people calling me 'gay boy' and 'fag' and those words mean something. I haven't gone a single day since I was fourteen without thinking there's something wrong with me because the kids at school call me names and my fuckin' dad ignores me and all I want is one freaking word, Aiden. I deserve it. Everyone else can think it's stupid to find comfort in a label but I don't."