Sasquatch to the Moon

38: Like an Ocean Returning to Shore

"Håkon-" I manage. He pulls off me for a second, letting me catch my breath, our mouths ghosting against each other. My knees are weak and my grip on him is failing. My eyes are threatening to roll back in my head. "We're in the offices, what if- what- what if someone comes in?"

"Locked the door."

I suck in a deep breath. "Oh."

He gives me a sloppy grin before tangling our lips again. I'm really just not sure I'm alive anymore.

I get another singular thought, my brain putting together words at a rate of one every fifteen minutes with a buffer period, and before I know what's happening, I shove him off me. He stumbles backward, his hand up on his lip.

"What the hell?"

I take a deep breath, ignoring how little sense anything is making right now. My brain has stopped forming sentences altogether. "You're," I pant. "You're not ready yet."

"Yes, I am," he's hoarse. "What about all that is telling you I'm not ready?"

I put another thought together. "Håkon, I'm sorry, I can't, I can't-"

"Maybe I won't ever be able to be like you, Milo, but I'm done hiding from it. That's ready enough."

"No, no," I push a hand through my hair, putting it all back in place. "You're not okay with it, you made that clear two weeks-"

He cuts me off. "I'm fucking into you!" He hollers. "I'm Håkon Rex and I'm pretty damn sure I'm in love with you!" 

"What?"

"And I'm ready enough to fucking accept that about myself! I might not be one of those people that's able to talk about all of it, to wear it proudly on my sleeve! I might not ever be ready for the whole fucking world to know! But I'm ready enough to accept that I'm absolutely crazy about you and no amount of self hate is going to change what I feel. I'm sick of letting this tear us apart, okay? I want nothing more than to be with you right now, I need you, okay? So what if I can't face the rest of everyone and tell them the thing that has pulled me down since day one, but I'm so fucking sick of letting it torment me."

I can't manage anything else other than another soft: "what?"

"You, you!" He lets out a worried laugh. "You helped me fix all this mess! Okay? It's never ever ever going to look like what you have and I'm perfectly okay with that! I'm not you, Rocket, I'm not going to dress up in a rainbow and be comfortable enough to tell the whole world. It's going to take me a long time to be able to joke about it like you can. But I'm out, I'm alright, I figured myself out!"

"When?" I can't process anything that's going on.

"I don't know." he runs his hands through his hair. "It just, I- I realized I was okay with it, for some reason I was able to look at myself in the mirror and be okay with it. I don't know when it happened, but frankly I don't give a fuck."

No no no no no no no no no.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this, I need more time. I need time to think and to come up with a plan or something, some more time to research or to prepare myself. He's ready, he's ready and now I'm not.

I'm scared. I'm fucking terrified.

I feel my breathing pick up, my hands pressed flat against the wall, eyes wide, ready to bolt.

"Milo?" He takes a step forward and I unknowingly lean back. "What's wrong? What's going on? Was that too much? Did I cross a line? Did I-"

"I've never dated anyone before." I blurt, too quickly. He takes a second with it, worry crossing his features.