An excessive pounding on the door woke me up. I hadn't realized I fell asleep, TV still running in the background, until it startled me awake.

Even through my sleepy haze I noticed two important things.

One, Aaron wasn't back yet.

And two, I had messed up his sheets. The grogginess dissipated and I jolted out of the bed to fix them the best I could in case it was Aaron at the door.

The knocking got more insistent.

"One moment!" I shouted, fluffing the last pillow and stepping back to admire my sloppy work. He told me to sleep, so a messy bed was proof I listened. He couldn't get mad at me for listening, could he?

The knocking was banging now.

I opened the door. "Yes?"

It wasn't Aaron. The man on the other side huffed, shoving past me as he barged into the apartment. He immediately disregarded me and scrummaged around the countertops and tables.

"Is Aaron here?"

"Um, no, he's out."

"Good. I don't want to see that shitface if I can help it." He huffed as he got on the floor. "Help me find my wallet, would you? It's here somewhere."

"Er, okay."

We looked around until he sighed and crawled out from under the bed, a leather wallet clutched in his hands.

"Found it, thank god." He finally looked at me in triumph before eyeing me up and down then scoffing.

"He certainly has a type, doesn't he."

"A type?"

"Yeah, a type. A type that he goes for." He gestured between me and him as if to indicate something that should be obvious.

Wait.

Hold up.

"You dated Aaron?"

He huffed. "What we didn't couldn't be considered dating. Fuck buddies, that's all. He's a real piece of work. You seem like a nice kid, you'll be much better without that dickface. He'll treat you nice at first, but fuck it if I'll have someone fucking me while he mutters someone else's name."

Fucking him?

Aaron fucking him?

Holy crap, my brother was gay?

"He can go shove his dick up his own ass now for all I care," the guy continued starting to the door.

"Wait!" I shouted, grabbing his arm. "So, uh, you and Aaron—he's gay?"

The guy appeared utterly disturbed by my overwhelmed bewilderment and tried to shake off my grip. "Yeah, he's 100% team dick."

What? How? Since when?

"Like I said, you'd be better off without him. He may be hot and a good lay, but he's emotional unavailable. You'll never get more out of him then sex."

"I—it's just—he—" I sputtered, trying to come to some sense of reality at this new revelation.

Aaron was gay. My brother, Aaron, was gay. He was gay and he has sex with guys. He was gay and he had sex with the guy in front of me.

Aaron was gay.

"Ugh, I'm over him and all his shit, so whatever issue you're having right now, take it up with him. Now, get the fuck off me." The man struggled to release my stubborn grip and ended up pushing me away and into the nearby shelf as he stormed out.

I didn't register anything.

"Aaron was gay" echoed again and again in my mind like an endless carousel ride, round in round, the same words repeated, over and over.

I hadn't know. How hadn't I know? Why hadn't he told me? Was that why he left? Did he think we wouldn't accept him?

That was ridiculous. No matter what Aaron did, mom and dad always loved him. Our family was not so weak that his sexuality would destroy us.

And no matter what, I loved him too. Before, I let my feeling of betrayal consume me that I never thought of how he must have felt when he left.

After knowing why he left....he must have felt as alone as I had.

The worst thing was remembering how I treated him once we reunited. I felt like the biggest loser and the worst brother.

I should have been a better brother. I should have known.

"Fuck, Sam you alright?" Aaron cursed, squatting in front of me.

Huh. I was on the floor. When did that happen?

"When did you get here?"

He ignored me, his eyes zeroing in and narrowing on my arm. He cursed. "You're bleeding."

I looked down. I was. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch."

"Stay," he ordered as he stood up and left the room. He was back shorting with a first aid kit.

"You don't have to do that," I argued. "I'm fairly confident in my clotting."

Aaron wasn't amused. "Stay still." He preceded to place antibiotic on it then a bandaid.

"Really, I'm fine." I repeated when I noticed him scanning me for another injury.

He regarded me coldly before nodding and going over to the kitchen table and pulling out fast food from a bag.

"Someone stopped by." It wasn't a question.

"Uh, yeah you're—you're friend." I almost said 'you're fuck buddy.' "I didn't catch his name."

"Did he cause that?"

"What?"

"Did he cause you to be hurt Sam?" We we're back to the tone of speaking to a petulant child.

"Uh, no, I tripped after he left." Not a complete lie. While him shoving me probably is what caused the injury, he was out of the room by the time I fell.

"Did he say anything?"

"Just that he was looking for his wallet," I mumbled sweat building on my forehead.

"Hm", Aaron grunted settling in at the table.

I stayed on the floor for a few more seconds before Aaron snapped, "Are you going to come eat or not?"

"Yes." I sat down at the table taking in the hamburger and fries Aaron dumped in front of me.

"Something wrong?" Aaron snipped as he bit into his burger.

This was the moment. I could bring it up, let Aaron know I knew, and we could confront whatever demons we had together. We could be like when we were young.

But....but this was about Aaron. Aaron chose not to tell me, to leave, to do this all on his own. I'd be selfish if I disregarded his choices.

There was only one reasonable thing I could do: be there for when he was comfortable telling me. Until then, I'd take it slow. Show him my support, without words, and let him know that no matter what I was there for him, that I loved him, that we were family regardless. Until then, I wouldn't say a word.

I shook my head. "No. Everything's fine."