Karl was good. He didn’t call in sick from work the next day. Didn’t get much accomplished at work, but that was okay. Nobody talked to him. Nobody asked him how he was. Delia had come into the office briefly, but he’d pretended to take a call, and she said she’d catch him later.

See, I can live a lie too. I can pretend nothing’s wrong.

Last night he had lain in bed, twisting in pain like he’d been shot, the sheets all tangled in his arms and legs, not even realizing he’d fallen asleep until a nightmare about abandonment and terror would wake him up.

The sensible side of him said, Talk to Simon. But if there was one thing Karl had never liked, it was someone telling him ‘I told you so.’

No, he’d get through this on his own. He’d massively fucked up, it was his mistake, and he’d have to survive it himself.

There was just one problem: Which part was the mistake? It seemed to change, minute by minute.

Falling for Burns was a mistake. No, that was the one good and sensible thing he’d ever done. Pushing him to come out was a mistake. No, that was trying to protect Burns from the pain of his own bad decisions. Blowing up at Reverend Ron in front of everyone was a mistake.

I was trying to save the man I love.

If he hadn’t made a mistake, then what? Could he honestly say he had done nothing wrong?

The temptation was there. Blame Burns for everything. Why couldn’t you stand up for me? Why couldn’t you love me enough to tell anyone?

But isn’t that what Karl had always done, blame other people for his faults? Jay’s fault for complaining about her coffee at Perky Pete’s, Dewey’s fault for firing him. An unending line of villainy stretching back to the very first bad thing that had ever happened to him.

He couldn’t keep doing that.

* * *

“Lucas has a new pool table,” said Pete.

“I’ll take a rain check,” said Karl. He was home after work, eight hours of empty mindless paperwork.

“Dude, come on! Rex has a cold and doesn’t want to do it, your brother is off making goo-goo eyes at his man-friend, and Lucas is such a bitch if nobody but me shows up!”

In the background he heard Lucas arguing, “I’m not the one who’s a bitch, Petey-boy. Are you going to rack these balls or am I?”

“See?” said Pete. “He’s gonna rack my balls if someone doesn’t come over.”

If there was anyone in the world other than Simon he could talk to about what was going on, it was the guys. But what if they did the I told you so thing too? What if that was every conversation he had from now until the day he died? Lying there on his death-bed, all his relatives coming up to him, bending over his frail body and whispering, You shouldn’t go out with a closeted guy.

“I just don’t feel like it, man.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it. My spidey-sense has awakened. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Fucker, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. If I say there’s something wrong, there’s something wrong. Is it your boyfriend? Something going on between you and Johnny Churchmouse?”

That’s how he ended up over at Lucas’ house. It was easier to just show up and play pool, than it was to talk to anyone over the phone.

“We could do eight-ball, and Karl plays the winner,” said Lucas, chalking his cue.

“Nah, let’s play nine-ball, that way he can play with us. Look at that face, he’s gonna cry if we leave him out.”

Karl picked up one of the cue sticks, weighing it in his hand. “Fuck off, Pete.”

“That’s my boy. Lucas, your friend Karl here is going through some heartbreak.”

“Fuck off, Pete,” said Karl, putting the cue back and choosing a heavier one. He felt like knocking the shit out of some balls.

Lucas waited for Pete to arrange the balls in a neat diamond, then lined up his shot. “Seriously? You and that closet-case break up? I’d say I’m shocked, but…”

To an outsider it probably sounded cruel, but when Lucas looked up, there was sympathy in his eyes. They all knew each other too well to sugarcoat anything.

“It was pretty bad,” said Karl. He watched the cue ball streak across the green felt, making a satisfying tock as it scattered the other balls across the table. “I nearly outed him to his family.”

“Dude, you what?” said Pete.

“I got mad. They needed to know.”

“It’s not your place to tell them.”

“Yeah, I realize that, Pete, I’m not a moron.”

The four and two sunk into the pockets, and so Pete came up to take his shot. Meanwhile Lucas came to stand next to Karl. “That’s why you can’t trust those guys,” Lucas said to him. “They’ll always hurt you in the end.”

“Nah,” said Pete, his face close to the table, one eye shut as he aimed. “Karl didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t blame him that the world’s fucked up.”

“I’m just saying, you have to be smart. You have to avoid guys that are trouble.”

Karl and Pete both stared at him for that. “Dude,” said Pete, “need I remind you of one particular boyfriend choice of yours that caused us all a lot of trouble?”

“At least he wasn’t straight,” countered Lucas.

“Burns isn’t straight either,” said Karl. “He’s just scared. And instead of helping him through it, I probably just spooked him hard enough that he’ll never come out. Ever. He’s gonna be stuck with his fucking parents the rest of his life now.”

“Rule two,” said Lucas, “don’t fall for a guy that lives with his folks.”

“Fucker, you live on your family’s land,” said Pete. “Their house is literally on the other side of the lake. What’s with you tonight, giving all this shit advice to the poor lad? Poor lad, get over here and take your shot.”

“I just don’t know what to do now,” said Karl. There was an awkward shot he could visualize, banking the cue ball around the seven, hoping to tap the three in just the right spot to knock it in. Probably too complicated though.

“Depends on what you want,” said Pete.

“What I want? I want to erase the scene at his parent’s house. I want to go back to the night I first realized I liked him. I want to…goddamn it!” His shot went wide, and the cue ball slid right past the three.

“Why would you want him back?” asked Lucas. “What makes you think anything would be any different?”

“If I could’ve just talked to him a little longer, maybe I could’ve convinced him—”

“Look, I’m going to stop you right there. Don’t you see that that’s your fucking problem?” said Lucas. “I love you like a brother, man, but this thing you’ve got about convincing people of things, it’s ridiculous. Nobody wants to be argued into anything. You could be right, you could be wrong, but you’re never going to win by trying to logic somebody into something.”

Karl sighed and nodded. “I know. That’s why there’s no hope. I’ve lost him, and he’s gone, because the one tool I have, he’s immune to. I can’t convince him that I’m right.”

“Gotta agree with Lucas,” said Pete. “You can’t convince him that you’re right about what? Because it sounds like you convinced him that you care more about being right, than loving him.”

“I am right, and fuck, you both agree with me, the closet is a dangerous fucking place, and it’s unfair, and—”

Lucas set down his cue. “Karl. I’m gonna be honest with you. You’re so focused on the issue of him being in the closet, that you’re missing what’s going on inside you.”

“I know what’s going on inside me quite well, thanks.”

“You chose this. You knew, in your heart, that he couldn’t do this in some big dramatic way like you thought was right. So you sabotaged it. You wrecked the relationship, instead of risking putting control into his hands. That’s what all your arguing and pontificating is about. You’re scared to death to lose control.”

“That’s deep, bro,” said Pete.

Lucas held Karl by his arms, and looked him in the eye. “You nearly died saving Rex, all those years ago. We would’ve been able to get him out, but you thought you were the only one who could do it. The only one who was able to save the day. You got him out, but you were wrong. You were just a little kid, and you could’ve died just as easily as you could’ve saved him. When you got pneumonia, I remember, your parents thought they’d lost you.”

“That’s ancient history,” said Karl, a cold hand gripping his heart.

I tried to save Burns too. I don’t know, was that foolish? Was it dangerous? There was nobody else around, I did what I thought was right…

“You think you’re the only one who knows what to do. And if it’s not done like you say, on your timetable, you get furious. You think we haven’t heard you fighting with Simon? You think we haven’t been around for every argument, every time you’ve broken up with someone, every time you lost a job? You’re scared of losing control, man. You thought Burns could never come out on his own, if you didn’t prompt him. You didn’t trust him enough to control his own life, on his own terms. I know it hurt you, having him keep things a secret, of course it did, that’s why we say not to go out with a closeted guy. But once you fell for him, you had to let him figure this shit out. That’s what you didn’t do. You took matters into your own hands.”

It felt like the floor had fallen out from underneath him. Karl gripped the pool table with one hand to steady himself. Lucas was right. Oh, it didn’t matter who was right, he’d spent too long thinking about right, and not enough time thinking about people. People as people, as other human beings with thoughts all their own. They weren’t his fucking pawns, just so he could prove a point.

“Oh shit,” he said, as everything fell into place, the whole history of his life, leading up to this moment, every mistake he’d ever made, every argument he’d ever had, all just practice for this, his crowning glory, fucking up a relationship with the only guy he truly loved, destroying the connection with his best friend.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe, like he needed to escape. The guys could tell what was going on. They led him to a chair, poured him a drink, made him take a few swallows. They waited with him while he calmed down. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until his chest started to hurt from the heaving sobs.

“Christ, I’m such an idiot,” he said, tears falling into his whiskey.

“You’re not an idiot, you’re a zealot,” said Lucas. “An idiot can’t learn to be smart. A zealot can learn to chill the fuck out.”

“Do you think…do you think it’s really over between us? Do you think I could ever get him back? What do I do? Maybe I could confront his pastor. He’s the one that started all this. Just bust the conspiracy wide open, take away all his power, so that Burns feels safe coming out, and then—”

“Pain makes you crazy,” said Pete. “You don’t need a big fucking plan to get Burns back. You just have to be honest with him.”

“And you can’t force him back either,” said Lucas. “That’s the whole point. It’s not under your control. All you can do is open the door. He has to walk through.”

Pete nodded. “Like the bumper sticker says, you have to Let Go and Let Burns.”

They both glared at Pete.

“Timing, man,” said Lucas.

* * *

The problem with letting Burns have control is that he had to find Burns first. He couldn’t do this over the phone. The last thing he wanted—the thing that would kill him—would be to try texting or calling him, and having no response. No, he had to see Burns face-to-face.

The idea of storming the castle, marching right up to Burns’ house, and forcing him to listen to his apology had its appeal.

Would he even make it through the front door? Or would Mrs. Burns be there, backed by Reverend Ron, forbidding his entrance?

The longer he waited, the less of a chance he would have. He couldn’t let Burns slip away, further and further from him. He had to do something.

He realized that the day to do it was Sunday.

Yes, he wanted to rush over and talk to him. Yes, he wanted this pain over right this instant.

But if he waited, if he could just hold out, Sunday morning would be the time when all the people holding Burns hostage would be gone. They’d all be in church, leaving Burns alone.

Karl couldn’t tell if that was the craziest plan he’d ever had, or common sense. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Waiting was hard. All day Saturday, he tried to read. He’d pick a book up, scan a few lines, not seeing any of the words, then let it drop back onto the sofa. His phone would ping with texts, and his heart would race, but then it would turn out to be Simon or one of the guys, and he didn’t want to talk to anyone but Burns, so he’d leave the messages unanswered.

His alarm was set for eight in the morning, but he was up by six. It was foolish, because there was no way Burns’ parents would be out of the house until 9:00 or so, off to Sunday School. Burns used to complain about them waking him up early every Sunday, asking him if he still wanted to go.

There was a lot of staring at the clock, rushing back to the bathroom to check his hair, check his teeth. He changed clothes three times.

When he finally showed up at Burns’ door, he was so tired from the lack of sleep and getting up early and rushing around uselessly, that he wasn’t sure he could do this.

Maybe I already waited too long. Maybe he has found somebody else. Maybe he went to church with them, because without me nagging him, he can slide right back into a life of secrecy. He’s probably engaged to Delia by now.

Putting all those thoughts out of his head, he rang the doorbell and waited.

Minutes passed. Oh shit, he’s not here. He rang the bell again, and knocked this time.

Nothing.

Seriously? All this preparing, and he’s not here.

He stepped off the porch, got far enough to look up at Burns’ window. Was he still asleep? Could he be hiding from the world, unwilling to answer the door?

The flowerbed near the garage was full of small white pebbles. He grabbed a few, and tossed them at Burns’ window, praying he didn’t break the glass.

They harmlessly bounced off, falling to the ground.

No response. No twitch of the curtain.

He’s not home.

Sunday morning, family in the thrall of an evil minister, there was really only one other place Burns could be, right?

Karl took a deep breath.

Time for Plan B.