It doesn't take an Intellectual to get that I'm Bisexual

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Matt can control his anger. He can. He's learned to take that emotion— well all his emotions— internalize them, let them fester and grow until he can bridle them and put them to use. Matt can control his anger. It's what he spent his young life doing. It's why he's not going to march into the hallway, take your phone, and give your mother a piece of his mind.

This particular evening has been one of the few times in Matt's life when he's been truly happy. He had Karen, Foggy, and you sitting in his living room talking about life and being together. In that moment, he can't, for the life of him, imagine why he ever thought he could survive without this. This— this right here— is everything he fights for. Which of course is why it couldn't last for more than a couple hours.

At least he's not the cause of the drama this time, and can, therefore, deal with it like a rational human being instead of trying to punch it. Except if your mother was here, it would be tempting. No one makes his people cry and thinks it's okay. It's been about half an hour since your mom called and you excused yourself to head into the hall. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but he wanted to make sure you were safe, so he kept an ear on you when you went out. It's not like this is the first time he's heard something that wasn't meant for his ears, though.

"I'm going to go check on her." He informs Foggy and Karen.

"Is she okay?" Karen asks; voice laced with concern.

"I'm sure she will be. I'll be right back."

—0—

A minute after you hang up with your mother, you hear the door to Matt's apartment open and click shut. You wipe your bleary eyes and look up to see Matt standing with his hands in his pockets, head bowed toward you with a sympathetic smile.

"Hey. You okay?" He asks as he slides down the wall to sit next to you.

"How much did you hear?"

"I heard your mom dismiss your last relationship because it was with a woman. I had to control myself; I wanted to march out here and give her a piece of my mind."

You allow yourself a smile at that. "How'd you manage?"

"I took a breath and reminded myself that this isn't my battle; that you're capable of dealing with it— and more— yourself. That being said, you shouldn't have to deal with it alone. Karen, Foggy, and I all love you; we're here for you. You obviously don't have to tell them, but they'd be nothing if not supportive. I didn't mean to listen to your conversation. I know it's an excuse, and awkward, and I'm sorry, but you have the right to know I heard."

"To be honest, it's a relief. I know you guys aren't assholes. I didn't know how to bring it up. Coming out is awkward regardless of how the person you're coming out to feels about the topic. It calls for a response. It's either a positive response, followed by an awkward silence or horror expressed in one way or another. Either way, it's not a conversation I look forward to having."

He nods. "I know a little of what that's like."

"Well, shit." You let your head fall against the wall. "At least my thing won't send me to prison. Not here in the U.S. anyway."

"I didn't mean to downplay—"

"I know Matt. Do you think Karen will distance herself after I tell them?"

"Hey," he puts a hand on your shoulder. "This isn't going to freak her out."

"How can you be sure?"

He goes silent for a minute, gathering his thoughts. "Karen is smart, and educated, right?"

"Objection: leading the witness."

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