Disclaimer: All individuals in the following piece are older than 18 years of age.

So, over a week ago, I accidentally may have found out that my best friend - a fella I’ve known since school and have been sharing a house with for several years - might be gay. A few days afterwards, I admitted to him that I’d seen a message from “SIR” on his phone while out celebrating. The following morning, Daniel texted me - at a really odd hour - to say that he felt lighter after our very, very brief chat and that he was sorry I found out the way I did.

As some of you noted, I wasn’t exactly sure whether Daniel and I were on the same page when he sent that text. His message didn’t really say much. It was a lot more vague than explanatory, and was really subjective. So, I spent a lot of time at work thinking about it. That said, I didn’t reply.

When I spoke to Daniel the day before, he’d flippantly said that the text I had seen was a silly message. Something stupid. Don’t mention it, he’d said. Which, again, could be interpreted two ways.

I wasn’t closer to knowing anything. But the ice was at the very least cracked

Anyway, I wallowed in my thoughts for most of the working day and didn’t get a chance to speak to Daniel privately that night. The house was busy. The good kind, to be fair. We were still sorta celebrating Michael’s graduation, and it was one of those rare occasions where everyone was in the house at the same time, not exhausted from a late shift, and not already having plans.

So, we ordered takeaway and crashed out together.

Daniel was Daniel. Just like the night before. If this was a guy sending messages to “SIR” and living a secret life as a gay submissive like some of you suggested, he was a bloody good actor. Or a bloody good liar. Or a bloody good person, that really had no skeletons in the closet, and that I was just projecting my loose-ends onto.

The day after, now a considerable time after the early-morning text message, I was working into the late evening and got back to the house famished. I could hear my stomach rumbling like crazy. I let myself in, flung my rucksack unceremoniously into the corner of the hallway, and went straight to the kitchen. There, sitting at the kitchentable, I saw Daniel.

“Oh, hey,” he said, looking up from his phone. The screen went dark quickly as he locked it.

“Hey, Dan,” I smiled, crossing the room to the fridge. “All good?”

“Yeah, all good, lad. How was work?”

“Long,” I sighed. “I mean, it was grand. But, just a long ass day. Do we have any of that leftover takeaway? I’m starving.”

“I think it’s on the top shelf.”

“Thanks, lad. How was your day? And where is everyone?” I was only now beginning to notice the quietness. The house had been bustling the last few evenings, but not that night.

“Fine,” Daniel said, plunging his hands into his pockets as he stood up. “Michael is gone home to visit his parents for a few days, and Cormac is working the first of his three lates this week.”

“Three?” I asked, popping the leftovers into the microwave. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope. He’s going to be cranky as fuck come the weekend.”

“I think I’ll move out.”

Daniel laughed, coming up beside me: “Yeah, I was thinking that too. Or force feed him a snickers, maybe?”

“What the fuck is he doing all that overtime for?”

“I have no idea,” Daniel said.

An almost complete silence filled the air between us for a few minutes, except for the rickety sound of the plate somewhat rotating in the microwave. My stomach rumbled more, loud in the quietude.

“Hey, Luke, about yesterday.”

I looked over my shoulder at him: “What about it?”

“I realised the text I sent you wasn’t exactly clear. And you didn’t respond to it either. So, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page, you know? I really did meant it when I said I’m sorry you found out by seeing a fucking stupid text.”

Daniel barely looked at me. His eyes were heavy, with dull, soft-purple circles underneath. He looked tired. Or upset. I couldn’t tell.

I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Well, like I said, it’s up to you what you want to tell me. And when. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

The microwave dinged.

“You are happy, right?” I asked, suddenly wondering whether he was actually happy or not.

“Yeah, I’m just confused? I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“You already know, don’t you?”

“That you’re into...”

“Fuck, it’s actually weird hearing you say that.”

“What?”

“I dunno. I just - I’ve never said it out loud before. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I get that. But, it boils down to the fact that you’re into guys, right?”

It did sound weird. It just sat there. In the air. In the space between us. Heavy.

Daniel didn’t move. It was like time stopped for him. For like an instant. I felt shit for asking. I don’t whether I forced something.

He sighed heavily, curling in on himself. His shoulders slumped and shrugged. It was strange seeing him so coy about something - he was always confident.

“Yeah. I guess.”

“Then, we leave it at that. No need to put a label on it. You’re happy. What else matters?”

“Yeah. I suppose. Thanks Luke.”

“No worries, man. You know I’ve got your back.”

His phone beeped in his pocket. I turned back to the microwave to grab my food, and to give Daniel a little privacy. I didn’t want to see anything else, and have to have another conversation.

“Look, I gotta go,” Daniel said, typing into his phone. “I’m meeting a friend. But, maybe we could chat more another time?”

“Sure, man. Have fun with your ‘friend.’”

Daniel didn’t look up from his phone. I don’t think he even noticed my air quotes. He just starting walking out.

“Save me some of those leftovers for later. Don’t eat them all,” he shouted back.

“No promises.”

Daniel left after that. The air still get heavy. Like something monumental had transpired and the house was taking it in. I grabbed the plate from the microwave absentmindedly, thinking rough what Daniel had said, and might’ve burnt my fingers a little in the process.

Quick life lesson: microwaves make things very fucking hot.