“Are you sure you want nothing?”
“Are... you alright?” I finally asked, still facing away. Couldn’t keep pretending. I turned and looked him in the eyes. “Damon.”
His eyes opened. We looked at each other.
He sighed. “It’s nothing to worry about. It’s not that serious.”
“It looked serious to me.”
“Braila...”
I didn’t stop. “Damon, it does.”
“Okay, okay. Fine.” He gave in. “When I have rough s*x, I bleed sometimes. So it’s not serious. It goes away after a few days.”
“Goes away?!” I got confused by what he meant.
“Yeahzzz!” He scoffed. “When gays have s*x, it gets rough...” He started laughing. “Oh my God, Braila.”
“Why are you laughing?!”
“Your face,” he pointed. “It’s so funny.” He waved it off. “You don’t need to know. It’s okay. You wouldn’t get it.”
I didn’t laugh with him.
