"Pretty much, yeah." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he looked down at the floor. It'd be spreading all over and-- they couldn't deny it. How could they? It was so easy to make the connections now. The marks Sam would show up with on his neck sometimes when there wasn't any good explanation on who gave them, the way they spent so much time together... God, the weekends he'd spend away from everyone before Dean even moved up.
He couldn't blame that 'girl' he'd had staying with him for a month either. She couldn't be brought back... at least, not in a way he'd ever ask of Dean.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Can I live with people looking at me like I'm a disgusting freak? Can you?" And the thing was... the thing that got him was he didn't feel disgusting.
He always thought if people found out, there'd be shame or guilt or disgust him himself for fucking his own brother. That it'd be the kick in the face he needed to realize that, yeah, what they had here... it wasn't okay.
He knew it wasn't normal, not by most people's standards, but knowing logically that it was fucking disgusting to most people didn't do crap to the way it felt when he was tangled up with Dean. God, he was a freak.
"... We have to leave. It's not just about people knowing... I wish it was." He shook his head, getting to his feet. If they were doing this, then they had to do it now... he couldn't stomach sticking around. He went to wordlessly grab the duffel out of his closet, tossing it on the bed and grabbing out clothes and--yeah, okay, the weapons he'd brought up with him when he first left. Hadn't taken anything impressive--just some basics to keep him safe if he had to use them or at least to give Dean some peace of mind that his brother was 'safe' at college.
"Brady was the one who let it slip." Brady... one of his best friends here, one of the people he'd trusted the most, the guy he'd helped back from the brink when he was drinking his life away. God, he felt like an idiot for being hurt, but...
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He couldn't blame that 'girl' he'd had staying with him for a month either. She couldn't be brought back... at least, not in a way he'd ever ask of Dean.
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Can I live with people looking at me like I'm a disgusting freak? Can you?" And the thing was... the thing that got him was he didn't feel disgusting.
He always thought if people found out, there'd be shame or guilt or disgust him himself for fucking his own brother. That it'd be the kick in the face he needed to realize that, yeah, what they had here... it wasn't okay.
He knew it wasn't normal, not by most people's standards, but knowing logically that it was fucking disgusting to most people didn't do crap to the way it felt when he was tangled up with Dean. God, he was a freak.
"... We have to leave. It's not just about people knowing... I wish it was." He shook his head, getting to his feet. If they were doing this, then they had to do it now... he couldn't stomach sticking around. He went to wordlessly grab the duffel out of his closet, tossing it on the bed and grabbing out clothes and--yeah, okay, the weapons he'd brought up with him when he first left. Hadn't taken anything impressive--just some basics to keep him safe if he had to use them or at least to give Dean some peace of mind that his brother was 'safe' at college.
"Brady was the one who let it slip." Brady... one of his best friends here, one of the people he'd trusted the most, the guy he'd helped back from the brink when he was drinking his life away. God, he felt like an idiot for being hurt, but...