Chapter Twenty four

Nate had almost finished packing when there was a knock at his door.

He looked up.

Max stood in the doorway.

Again.

Nate glanced at the clock.

11:47 p.m.

"You okay?"

Max shrugged.

"Can we talk?"

Nate immediately put down the shirt he was folding.

"Of course."

Max stepped inside but didn't sit.

For several seconds, he simply stood there.

Nate waited.

He'd learned that with Max, silence was sometimes more useful than questions.

Eventually, Max sat on the edge of the chair beside the desk.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay."

"And I don't want you to laugh."

Nate frowned.

"I wouldn't."

"Even if it's stupid."

"I won't."

Max stared at the floor.

"I've been thinking about it for a while."

"About what?"

"Myself."

Nate remained quiet.

Max rubbed his palms against his jeans.

"After..."

He stopped.

"The dream?"

Max nodded.

"Yeah."

Max took a breath.

"I know dreams don't mean anything by themselves."

"Right."

"But it made me start thinking."

"About?"

"Why I've always felt different."

Nate leaned back slightly.

Max's voice became quieter.

"I think I might be gay."

The words hung between them.

Max immediately looked terrified.

Nate didn't react with shock.

He didn't look uncomfortable.

He simply nodded.

"Okay."

Max blinked.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"You don't think it's weird?"

"No."

"You don't think I'm too young to know?"

"I think you're old enough to know what you're feeling."

Max swallowed.

"But what if I'm wrong?"

"Then you're wrong."

Max stared at him.

"And that's okay too."

Nate smiled gently.

"You don't have to figure out the rest of your life tonight."

"I just..."

Max's eyes filled.

"I've been scared to say it."

"Why?"

"Because what if Mom doesn't accept me?"

"She loves you."

"I know."

“She accepted me.” Nate said

“She didn't give birth to you.”

“That’s bull and you know it.”

"But..."

"I've seen how she talks about people sometimes."

"Not in a bad way."

"Just..."

He struggled to explain.

"I don't know."

Nate nodded.

"Fear doesn't always need proof."

Max looked at him.

"Did you know when you were my age?"

Nate smiled faintly.

"I knew when I was younger but I didn't tell anyone immediately."

"Why?"

"Because I was scared."

"You?"

"Of course."

Max seemed surprised.

"I thought you were always confident."

"I became confident."

"That's different."

"Very."

Nate leaned forward.

"When I was younger, I worried about what people would think. Whether my parents would accept me. Whether my friends would treat me differently. Whether I'd ever have the kind of life everyone else seemed to expect."

"And then?"

"I realized something."

"What?"

"I was spending so much time being afraid of losing people that I wasn't giving the people who loved me a chance to prove that they wouldn't leave."

Max looked down.

"And your parents accepted you."

Nate's smile softened.

"Completely."

"Mom cried."

"She cried?"

Max laughed through his tears.

"What about Micah?"

"He told me he didn't care who I dated as long as I stopped stealing his clothes."

Max laughed.

"That's definitely Micah."

"It is."

For a moment, the room felt lighter.

Then Max became serious again.

"I think I want to tell Mom."

Nate studied him.

"Are you sure?"

"I think so."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

"But I want to."

"Okay."

"Tomorrow."

Nate nodded.

"Then tomorrow."

"What if I freeze?"

"Then you freeze."

"What if I can't say the words?"

"I'll be there."

"What if she doesn't..."

He couldn't finish.

Nate's expression softened.

"Max."

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens tomorrow, you don't become any less worthy of love."

Max looked at him.

"Remember that."

Max nodded.

"I will."

"And you don't owe anyone an explanation beyond what you're comfortable giving."

"Okay."

"And you don't have to come out to anyone else until you're ready."

"I know."

Max sat quietly for another moment.

Then he stood.

"Thank you."

Nate smiled.

"Anytime."

Max reached the doorway.

Stopped.

Turned around.

"Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Sure."

Max looked embarrassed.

"Can I..."

He hesitated.

"Can I sleep in here tonight?"

Nate looked at him for a moment.

The request was simple.

But Nate understood what was underneath it.

Tomorrow was frightening.

Max had just said something aloud that he'd been carrying alone.

He was about to tell his mother and brother.

And Nate was leaving in the morning.

It was too much for one night.

Nate nodded.

"Yeah."

Max's shoulders immediately relaxed.

"Really?"

"Really."

"I'll sleep on the floor."

Nate laughed softly.

"Absolutely not."

"But—"

"You can take the bed."

"What about you?"

"I'll sleep on the couch."

Max shook his head.

"No."

"Max."

"I don't want you sleeping on the couch because of me."

Nate sighed.

"Fine."

He pulled an extra blanket from the closet and made a small sleeping space on the floor beside the bed.

Max stared at it.

"You're actually doing that?"

"Yep."

"You're ridiculous."

"So I've been told."

Max climbed onto the bed.

Nate turned off the light.

The room fell into darkness.

For several minutes, neither spoke.

Then Max whispered:

"Nate?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you sure you're not disappointed?"

Nate's answer came immediately.

"Not even a little."

"Okay."

Another silence.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Max."

A few minutes later, Max's breathing became slower.

Nate remained awake.

He stared at the ceiling, thinking about the conversation.

Max was scared.

But he had also been brave.

Tomorrow wouldn't necessarily be easy.

Coming out never came with guarantees.

But tonight, at least, Max didn't have to face his fear alone.

And when morning came, Nate would be there beside him—not to speak for him, not to decide for him, but to remind him of something every person deserved to know:

There was nothing wrong with him.

He was still Max.

Still Sarah's son.

Still Micah's little brother.

Still loved.

And still home.