Any Century Now...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXvSkSelZGg
If you’re expecting this to be one of those coming out stories where the one in the closet overcomes their fear of revealing the truth about themselves to their friends or family in a situation where they would either accept them fully or kick them out, thereby starting something that looks like it was ripped off from an Ancient Pegasi tragedy… Well… Good for you I guess. Maybe I’m guessing that there are hundreds of stories like that in both reality and fiction out there. But most coming out stories I've heard tend to follow something like I've mentioned.
However… This isn’t that kind of a story.
First off, this telling isn’t about me. It’s about my son, Braeburn Apple. Told from the perspective of his father, Jonnieseed Apple. Also known as me.
Second – at least from my perspective – I don’t exactly see it as a coming out for my son if I already had a pretty good idea long before the fact.
And third… You know how relatives would have a story about you that you’ve never once said, and they would always bring said story up to every family gathering until they die? Well, reader, you’re in luck. Because this happens to be mine.
If you asked my son how exactly he’d come out, you’d most likely get a: “Ah c’mon, y’all don’t wanna hear about that. It ain’t nothin’ special, honest.”
Son, I beg to differ.
But before I start, let me just say a few things for you to keep in mind: I do love my son, always have and always will. I don’t judge him based on who he happens to like. I may respect him as the adult he’s become, but as a father, that doesn’t mean I can’t preserve some of the more entertaining stories for future generations. I’m not writing this to embarrass him or have him feel ashamed about the incident being in print. I’m doing this because I believe that if we tell more of our embarrassing stories, we do so not to make ourselves feel ashamed, but as a reminder that we ain’t perfect on our pedestals. I’m writing this because I feel that it’s something that ought to be told to the many others out there who’re like my son. For those who are afraid of telling about who they are.
That keeping it hidden out of fear doesn’t just hurt those who are in the closet, if that makes sense.
Years ago, before Appaloosa was settled and before my Son moved out to go at it on his own, we were together in Ponyville. By the time this story starts, Brae was seventeen and we were living in a small place that was growing part apple orchard and major part wheat field. My son was working away to finish high school and was chatty about what he wanted to do with his life at the dinner table.
Also, Brae didn’t know it at the time, but my wife and I had already figured out about our son’s sexuality by the time he hit puberty. It slowly dawned on us that there was a good reason for his lack of interest in fillies. After all, when he was fourteen, my wife spotted him sneaking off from one family reunion, plucked a wildflower and tried to offer it to a colt – before getting punched in the eye. Plus, a couple of years later, I uh... may or may not have heard him moan out the name of one of his male schoolmates during his, uh… private time.
It didn’t take long for us to put two and two together to realize that Braeburn is gay. For some, this might be devastating, but to us, we decided that as long as he ain’t hurtin' anyone, no big deal. We agreed that when Brae felt ready, he would just tell us. No need to push something so personal.
However, as the years went by, we couldn’t help but notice that not only had Brae never said a word about it, but we noticed that he seemed more isolated. Oh, don’t get me wrong, we would go see our extended family and he would be happy to talk to any of them. However, by the age of seventeen, he wasn’t seeing anyone that wasn't family. No friends ever came by the farm, nor was there a hint of him sneaking off to seeing someone either. But even then, we didn’t feel the need to push things.
What caused a change in that line of thinking, however, was kind of an accident on my part.
“Hon, where’s the key to the tool shed?”
“Did ya check Brae’s room? I think he had it last time.”
When our son was at school one day, I was searching the house for the key to the shed so I could repair a part of the fence on our property. When I heard this, I just groaned and marched over to Brae’s room. Knowing him, he might have forgotten to put it back on the key ring. Believe me, I wasn’t looking forward to it. Because Brae, like so many teens his age, often left his room in a chaotic mess.
As expected, it was a mess. From the unkempt bed, to his clothes, pillows, school papers, and snack wrappers on the floor, to the layers of dust on his desk and bookshelf that were so thick you could write a novel in it. However, I did spot the key almost immediately on the desk. So, after jotting a mental note to get Brae to clean up his room, I went over to the desk to pick the key up. As I did so, however, I spied an open book, written in Brae’s hoofwriting.
Now… I do try to be a good parent and respect my son’s privacy. Really do. Celestia knows, a journal isn’t something that is meant to be read by everypony. However, my suborn curiosity when I saw the words “Never tell,” was underlined several times. So, perhaps against my better judgment, I took a gander at what looked like was written last night. What I read though... is forever branded in my memory.
May 29 – Dear Journal, it’s not fair! That for years I have been smiling for everyone, showing a Braeburn they wanted to see. But I don’t know how much longer I could do this. The secret I’ve been hiding wants to get out. To tell the whole wide world (or at least one) that I like colts more than fillies. I wish I could just tell it to my folks, where maybe I’ll feel more comfortable in. Only… if I did, would they still love me? Since I might very well be the only gay fellow in town, I know well that not everypony would see me as the same guy if they knew. What if I get hurt again, but from mom and dad? I don’t say that they are homophobic, it’s just… I don’t know if they are. That’s what scares me the most, they never say anything about it one way or another, and if it turns out they’re not being able to accept… what am I to do? Where would I go? The last thing I want is to be homeless because I came out… or worse… As much as I’m in the closet and want to get out, the door is locked. For my safety, I hereby swear to NEVER TELL.
Oh boy… when I read that… it broke my heart. As a father, you want your child to grow up safe and sound, knowing that they’re loved for who they are no matter what. So, to read that your own son is afraid of what you might do to him because of who he is…
That night, after my wife and I got into bed and the lights went out, my eyes were wide open. With a heavy sigh, I turned over to her. “Hey, Fuji? Ya still awake?” I asked softly.
“Hm?”
I hesitated. There was a question that was echoing in my head all day, like a vampire bat in a cave. It bothered me as it was something that no parent who loves their kids would want to ask themselves: “Are we... good parents?”
The bed shifted and Fuji looked at me, puzzled. “Huh?”
“To Braeburn Ah mean. Are we good parents?”
“As good as we could be.” She rubbed her eyes. “What brought this up?”
I sighed again. “Fuji, have ya ever wondered why our son hasn’t come out to us yet? Well… let’s say that today Ah have a pretty good idea why.”
“Yeah?”
“Ah think… Ah think Brae is afraid of us.”
“What?” She rolled over for a moment to turn on the lamp on the bed stand. “Why would he be afraid of us?”
From there, I told her the truth about how I found his journal and what I read. When I finished, I added, “Doesn’t he know that it ain’t that big of a deal-breaker to us?”
“But, you have to admit, he does have a point,” I asked her what she meant. “Sure, we don’t have a problem with it, but Brae doesn’t know that. It’s not somethin’ we openly express within earshot. We’ve been silent on the subject and now he’s more scared if he finds out in the end that his worst fears would come true. Plus, his first experience to have a colt love him back didn’t go well fer him, ya know?”
“Yeah, Ah still remember the black eye.” I run my mane through my hooves. “What are we gonna do? If we confronted ‘em about it, he might be too scared or deny it. Possibly run away or do…” I shook my head.
“So, what are ya thinkin’?”
“Perhaps… it might be best ta just drop hints on ‘em here and there. Ta let him know that ‘Hey, it’s safe, ya can come out now.’ But… how to do it? How do we let ‘em know that he can be himself around us? That if he wanna have a coltfriend, he could go right ahead and have one! But… how do ya tell him that without freaking him out?”
My wife hummed in thought. “I got a couple of ideas.”
At first, it all started out simply enough, I suppose. By morning, I was helping Fuji with making breakfast when Braeburn walked in with the enthusiasm of a zombie. He practically was sleepwalking as he slumped in a chair, face planted on the table, slumped over like a sack of apples. Truthfully, I think the moment he woke up was when my wife sat down the stack of flapjacks within spitting distance of his muzzle.
“Mind fetching the paper?” I asked him, and he begrudgingly went to the front door to get it. A moment later, he handed the newspaper over and thought it was the right moment to set Plan A in motion. With a wink to Fuji, I unfolded the paper while they started digging in. After waiting for a little bit while of scanning the paper, I said, “Ah! Good fer them!”
“What is?” my wife asked.
“Ya know that Mailpony, Postage Stamp? He just got engaged not too long ago. About time he settled down.”
“Does it say who he’s engaged to?”
“Hold on a sec… Some fella name Casual Reader.”
Braeburn violently coughed, I looked up from the paper. “Ya okay there, son?”
He nodded. “Went down the wrong pipe, he-he…” One nervous laugh later, he swallowed. “Did ya say, Casual Reader? As in, mah literature teacher, that Casual Reader?”
“Ah think so,” I looked back at the paper, but still kept an eye on my son to watch his reaction. “say’s here that they’re gonna tie the knot in the spring. Not a bad match if Ah say so mahself, they oughtta make a cute couple.” He looked at me in disbelief, but I continued on as I flipped to the next page and frown. “Oh, now that’s jus’ sad… ‘Gay Stallion Sent to Hospital as a Result of Suspected Hate Crime.’ Ah swear, ponies these days. Doesn’t anyone know what decency is anymore? If Ah ever met the fellas that beat someone jus’ because they’re homosexual, Ah’d kick their flanks ta the moon.”
At first, his eyes darted away, and his jaw was trying to make up its mind to figure out what exactly to say. But after a while, he suddenly stood up. I asked him where he was going. “Ah think A-Ah’m gonna get ready fer school now.”
“But it’s Saturday.” Fuji pointed out. “Ya don’t go ta school on Saturday's.”
“O-Oh… Uh… T-Then Ah’m just gonna start headin’ towards the fields. Yep. Need an early start ya know? Okay, seeY’alllatterbye!” With that, he went out the back door.
I blinked. “Too strong?” I asked her.
Apparently, that didn’t work. A week later, Brae still didn’t say a word, so we went to the next level.
This time, we decided to do a different approach. We invited some folks over for a Barbeque. Mostly family and friends in town. But to make this work, I had to “invite” a particular guest along. By invite, I mean I had to, well… bribe a little.
At the time, Soarin Cloudline was a young stallion that was about a year older than my colt and was known for doing odd jobs before he joined the Wonderbolts. Whenever there was something to be done, I’d get him over to do things such as shoveling snow, mowing the grass, or getting him as extra help with the harvest. Truthfully, the latter was my major reason for bribing him. Because, dear reader, I did pick up on how my son would dreamily stare at his posterior when we were gathering the wheat.
So, in my mind, I thought that it would make sense for him to act out a little something around Braeburn. All I told him was to try to flirt with him a little and he would be paid for it. What stupid me didn’t think about was to tell him the limits of how to go about that were.
“So where do ya want the apple fritters?” When Braeburn asked this question with a tray of the stuff on his back, I spied over at the food table in hopes that Soarin might show up. Thankfully, I spotted him as he arrived, flying to the table to wait for my son.
“Put ‘em near the rolls,” I told him, while I was tending to the carrots I was grilling. “But after that, ya oughta enjoy yerself a bit. Ah think Ah can take care of things from here.”
“Ya sure?”
I nodded, watching as my son turn and trot over to the table. Now, of course, I had to check on the grub. Turning the carrots over a little, coat them in butter, and making sure they don’t turn black. However, I did try to keep an eye on my colt to see what was happening. At first, it seemed that Braeburn and Soarin were engaged in some small talk – so nothing much. However, a couple of minutes later, while I couldn’t hear what Soarin was saying, it was making Brae blush, if not looking over his shoulder to see that nopony else was listening.
‘Looks like it’s workin’ so far.’ I thought as I placed the carrots on a plate. ‘And now fer the, as the Prench would say, pièce de résistance.’ The plan at the time, you see, was that Soarin would flirt with him for a bit, I would come by and would give a comment about young love or something like that.
However, when I turned around, I saw my colt looking really uncomfortable, trying to back away but Soarin quickly maneuvered over to where his wing was caressing my son’s flank.
My. Seventeen-year-old son’s. Flank.
As a father, only one thing came to mind as practically galloped over. ‘Oh Tartarus no!’ The fella may have been paid to flirt with my son, but I didn’t expect that he would be touching him to the point of sexual harassment!
“….ow about I’d take you out back and we-” was as far Soarin got before I pulled him aside.
“Soarin Cloudline, a word…” I said through my teeth, grabbing him by the neck out behind the barn, out of earshot of everyone in which I had him face me. “What the hay do ya think yer doin’?!”
“D-Doing what you asked.” He stuttered. “You wanted me to flirt with him.”
My eyes sharpened, and I had him look at it as life looking down at spear point. “Yeah, didn’t say you could touch ‘em. What were ya thinkin’! He’s seventeen!”
“He is?” Soarin blinked. “Wait, hold on, I didn’t know he’s a yea-”
“Answer the question!” I cut him off. “What was goin’ on in yer featherbrained head ta start gropin’ my son like that?”
“In my defense,” he held up both of his hooves, “it’s usually my technique when I’m picking up guys.”
I blinked. “You’re gay too?”
“Well, bi actually, and usually I do that just to be flirty, ya know?” He told me with a nervous smile, especially when he looked over my shoulder. “I swear, I didn’t know about that. You should have been a little more specific in what you wanted.”
“Oh, fantastic…” I groaned, letting him go so I could facehoof. I realized too late the stupidity I walked into. “Ah might as well bend over and have ya rut me in front of-”
“Uh… Mr. Apple?” Soarin said nervously, as he wasn’t looking at me. However, I was too frustrated at the time that I pulled out the bag of bits.
“Ya know what, never mind. Here, jus’ take the money and go. Ya did enough fer today.”
“Uh…” He took the money, looking between me and something else. “T-Thanks.” With that, he flew off.
With a frustrated sigh, I was ready to get back to the Barbeque, however, I stopped when I saw Braeburn there. Suddenly, it clicked in me what that little conversation might have sounded like to an outsider a moment ago.
“Oh uh… hey son.” I tried to say something, given the awkward circumstances.
He looked between me and Soarin that was flying off. “Ah came ta see if everythin’s alright.”
“Yeah, everythin’s fine.” I nodded. There was an awkward pause between us. “So… how long have you been standin’ there?”
“Long enough,” he replied, “what was-”
“Let’s start havin’ lunch, shall we?”
Braeburn gave me a weird look. “Yeah… sure thin’, dad…”
Another week went by and still, Braeburn’s mouth was shut tighter than a bank vault. Even with the awkward walk in, you’d think that it would give him the motivation to pipe up a word or something. But still, my son wouldn’t come out.
So, we moved on to the next idea.
“Since when did ya get gym memberships?”
At this point, Braeburn had recently gotten out of school. He walked in with me having on a t-shirt, polyester shorts, and a sweatband. Since he told me that he didn’t have homework, I dragged him along to Ponyville’s gym: Fitness World. A place where all of the town goes to lift weights, run on machines and such. A place where fit ponies often go to.
Mostly stallions.
Perfect.
“Ah got ‘em a couple of days ago,” I told him on the way there. “Ya know, Ah’ve talked to the doctor after my physical the other day and Ah was inclined to know about yer blood pressure and such. While he says that it’s okay fer now, he did stress that ya should get regular exercise. At least half an hour fer every two days a week minimum. It should be good fer the heart, ya know. Plus you’ll live longer too. So Ah thought since Ah haven’t done that either in a while, why not let you come along and join me?”
My colt looked nervous, dreadful even. “Ah don’t know… Ah don’t have mah exercise clothes or-”
“That’s optional,” I told him, “as long as you pick up a rag ta wipe away the sweat, ya should be fine. Oh! And drink water when ya need to. No need ta collapse from dehydration, ya know?”
He sighed, “If ya say so, dad.”
Eventually, we reached the gym in which there were a decent amount of ponies around – mostly stallions – that were focused at whatever they were doing. Galloping on treadmills, lifting barbells, doing crunches, pushing and pulling on machines, the typical stuff. Right away I noticed that Braeburn’s face turned a few shades of red, but we didn’t say anything.
At first, we spent about twenty minutes on the treadmill, but the whole time I kept watching for my son’s reaction. He was too focused on where he was stepping to take glances at the other ponies. I was a bit confused as one would think that to a gay pony, this would be like Whinnyland in a sense. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that since he was in the closet, maybe he’s trying hard not to look so he wouldn’t be caught doing so. In hindsight, it’s kinda stupid as given that he’s in high school, for me it would be the equivalent of a young stallion changing in the filly’s locker room and not trying to look.
Perhaps, a different approach was needed.
“What do ya think of that fella over there?”
“Huh?” Braeburn looked up at me.
“The one at the cyclin’ thin’.” I nodded over to a stranger in front of us that was a stone’s throw away. “Ah noticed he’s been at it fer a while now.”
“Uh… yeah?”
“Ah mean, jus’ look at the gleamin’ sweat that’s runnin’ down all over.”
Brae looked over for a moment, his blush returned. “Y-Yeah…?”
“Ah reckon that he must have been workin’ so he could have a nice tone flank.”
Yeah, yeah, I know what I said, but at least it did get a reaction out of my colt. And by reaction, I mean being so caught off guard that he tripped, rolled, and somersaulted over like a bowling ball and flung backward onto the floor.
I hopped off the treadmill. “Son! You okay!?”
Braeburn sat up, dizzily shook his head like he got off a merry-go-round at full speed. Even his eyes were spinning. “Dad, can we do somethin’ else?”
Needless to say, that didn’t work either. If anything, Braeburn had avoided me for a while out of sheer awkwardness. So, after talking to Fuji about it, we decided that maybe this time that the hints might need to be stronger. Something that would set my colt’s fears to rest and show that we would be supportive of him no matter what.
Thus, my wife, after looking at the events that were happening on the calendar, came up with an idea.
So on a Saturday, I bought two tickets to Canterlot and in half an hour later, we were on its polished streets.
“Am Ah the only one that thinks it’s a little odd ta go all the way ta Canterlot jus’ ta get some paperclips?” Braeburn asked.
I shrugged. “Well… Ah admit, it’s not the only reason fer bringin’ ya up here. Part of it is yeah, Ah do wanna run an errand ta get that, but also, Ah figured that it would be the perfect time ta get some quality time with mah colt.”
“So ya dragged me all the way here fer that?”
“Why not? Ah couldn’t help but notice that you’d seem a little distant recently. Is everythin’ alright?”
He hesitated to answer at first. “Just… a lot on mah mind is all. Ya know, granulatin’ and what not.”
“Aw,” I said, rubbing his mane, “first of all, it’s graduatin’ ya know,” Braeburn blushed at realizing what he actually said. Then Ah quickly followed it up with, “‘Sides, there’s a place that jus’ opened here and Ah’ve been curious about ta know what it is.”
Brae raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s it called?”
“It has a funny name. ‘The Bottom’s Up.’ Don’t know what it is beside the name.”
At least hearing the name managed to get a chuckle out of him. But we continued on.
In truth, I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going, but it didn’t take long to pick up the scent of the trail, so to speak. Turns out, all I had to do was follow the rainbows and somepony playing The Village Ponies loudly to find what I was looking for. Then, we had found it.
There’s a very specific reason why I roped Braeburn into comin' to Canterlot on this particular day. It’s that they celebrate Rainbow Day earlier than the rest of the country. Also, Canterlot’s famous for having the largest Pride Parade that is known for being over-the-top extravagant.
I gotta say, speaking as a straight stallion myself, they weren’t kidding on the extravagant part. Right along on the main road was a river of color. Not only in flag-waving and clothes from the simple tie-dyed to the elaborate dresses, but I swear it was raining glitter. And that’s just from the spectators! On the street, parade floats and lines of dancers, color guards, influential ponies, etc… were flowing down the street.
“Did ya know this was happenin’ today?” Braeburn asked me.
“Not really.” I lied. “Ah’m not even sure what... ‘this’ is, but Ah gotta say, Ah’m impressed.”
My colt blinked. “You are?”
“Well the time and effort ta put all this shindig together don’t look like an easy task. ‘Sides, if a group of ponies is this passionate ta show who they are and not be afraid ta show it, must be worth admirin’. Still…” I hummed, looking down to where the parade was heading. “We’d need ta get across and over down there. But how?”
The answer came down the street. Literally. As luck would have it, the next part to come down was a section in which parents would march with their kids. This got me an idea.
“C’mon, let’s go!” Ah told him, dragging him across the line and onto the street.
“Dad!” My colt protested. “What are ya doin’?! They’re starin’!”
“Ah have an idea,” I told him, “jus’ march along until we get down there to that street. That way, we won’t make a fuss.” With that, I began marching with the other ponies, and Braeburn begrudgingly followed.
At first, I wondered if I was pushing this too far, seeing how my son must be humiliated beyond description. That was until a voice called out.
“Braeburn?”
We looked over, and right behind us, by some vast amount of coincidence, Soarin was right there with his folks.
“Soarin?” Braeburn asked. “What the hay are ya doin’ here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” The young stallion trotted up to him, but when he unfolded a wing, I gave him a glare in which he wisely folded back up. “I’m marching in the parade with my parents. Kinda funny, I didn’t know that you were coming out today.”
“Comin’ out? What are you…” His eyes widen and I swear all the blood went to his head. “W-Wait hold on! T-This isn’t what it looks like. We’re jus’ uh… passin’ through. It don’t mean nothin’ at all… he-he…” He finished with a forced smile.
“So you marching in a Pride Parade on Rainbow Day doesn’t mean anything?” Soarin pointed out, then he looked over to me and asked, “So are you actually here for your-”
“Hey! There it is!” I pointed out the place I was talking about, yanking Braeburn off the street. The place I was looking for was one of those places that if you blink, you’ll miss it. Discreet being a good word in the camouflage of rainbows and glitter everywhere, the hole in the wall only stood out with the simple sign and a rainbow flag hanging from one of its two-way mirrors. You know, the kind of glass where you can only see from one way.
(Now, full disclosure here. At the time, I had no idea what The Bottom’s Up was. The only reason why I dragged Braeburn there, to begin with, was because apparently it was gay-themed and was owned by a couple. I honestly thought it was a store or something. So I honestly had no clue as to what it actually was. Because the moment I stepped in with my seventeen-year-old colt… I regretted it.)
At first, I was confused as to how come it was unusually dark ‘cept for some lights and neon glowing. While our eyes adjusted, the next thing we noticed was the thumping music, along with the cheers and whistles from folks here and there. But once we could see, I looked over at Braeburn in which his jaw hit the floor and his cheeks were on fire. I glanced over… and I immediately realized that I made a huge mistake.
It was gay-themed alright. Especially those who were dancing around poles on tiny stages in different costumes – but equally scantily dressed. I realized too late that the place I was taking my son into… was a gentlecolt’s club.
“Hey,” suddenly a fella that was a good deal taller than me, twice the muscles, and that had on a shirt that said SECURITY printed on and wearing a jockstrap (and nothing else) came up to us, “Let me see some ID.”
“Huh?” I blinked.
He pointed at the gawking Braeburn. “Is he at least twenty-one? If not, then I have to ask ya to leave.”
“Oh, terribly sorry,” I said. “We’re not familiar with this town and jus’ walked inta the wrong place.”
Before the security guard could respond, a loud cheer was heard nearby as one of the strippers in a cowpony getup tossed his Stetson out and it landed on Braeburn’s face. “H-Holy molly…” My son said shakily as if he was being hoofed over a pair of somepony’s undergarments.
“Uh-huh…” The security guard raised an eyebrow. “Where are you trying to get to, anyway?”
“Someplace to get lunch, I guess,” I replied.
“Ah, okay. I know a good place not too far from here.” He said pointing outside. “There’s the Copper Pot Café, it’s only a couple blocks down that way on this side of the street. They have really good sandwiches and coffee. Just head that way and you’ll run into it. If you reach the library, you’ve gone too far.”
“Thank ya kindly,” I nodded, turning over to my flustered son, “ya should probably give that back.”
“Uh… not gonna happen.” The security guard pointed at a sign on the wall. I looked over and it read: Any Disregarded Clothing is Free if Anyone Touches it. “At least he got a hat, so… if he wants, he can keep it.”
“T-Thanks,” Braeburn said, putting on the hat that at the time was slightly too big for him but still put it on anyway with a goofy smile.
In hindsight, I guess it’s a really good thing that day he took the hat. Given the other strippers nearby, it was either that or wearing a black faux-leather getup. At least with the hat, it made him look decent.
The rest of the day was spent eating sandwiches, and Braeburn looking dreamingly at the parade passing by.
In truth, at that point, we were truly running out of ideas. However, three days later after what happened in Canterlot, Braeburn came back from school and sought me out in the orchard. “Hey dad,” I remember clearly what he said, “mind if we talked.”
After giving one of the trees a swift buck, I looked over to him. “Sure, somethin’ wrong?”
“Well uh… no, Ah don’t think so…” he pawed at the ground. “At least… Ah hope it isn’t.”
“What’s the matter?”
Braeburn looked over his shoulder to where Fuji was. “Can we talk? Alone? There’s somethin’ Ah wanna ask ya but… Ah don’t want anypony ta hear.”
As much as I didn’t try to show it, I thought that it’s happening. Finally happening. He’s gonna pony up and finally come out. So, after a nod, I followed him out to the wheat fields. We walked out a pretty good distance away from the house and far out for anyone to listen in. My heart, while understanding why he’s doing it, was filling up with joy that he’s finally gonna do it.
He suddenly stopped. Looking over he asked, “Dad… remember when ya said that Ah could tell ya anythin’?”
“Yes? What’s wrong?”
“Hm? Oh, nothin’s wrong-”
“Well havin’ ta pull me way out here jus’ ta talk ta me tells me that whatever is on yer mind, it must be serious.”
Braeburn opened his mouth, but for a moment nothing came out. “Well… yeah, it is. Especially talkin’ to you.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He slumped down. My fatherly instincts told me to sit next to him and place a comforting hoof on his back, to let him know that I’m listening. “Well… fer a while now, there’s somethin’ Ah wanna ask ya but Ah couldn’t figure out how ta bring it up.”
“It’s all good, whatever it is, Ah’ll hear ya out.”
He took in a deep breath. For a solid, long minute, he formed the question in his mind. “Well… Don’t take this the wrong way here, but with all that’s goin’ on… Ah was hopin’ that you’d tell me the truth on somethin’.”
“Yes yes. What is it?”
“Uh…” he looked directly at me in the eye and ask, “Dad… are ya gay?”
Now, I’d admit, I did not see that coming.
I blinked. “Say what now?”
“It’s jus’… with what Ah heard ya say to Soarin, and the comment about some fella’s flank at the gym, the Pride Parade and the uh… the club, it’s like the past month you’re tryin’ ta drop hints on me that you’re… N-Not that it’s a bad thing but… does Ma know?”
My mouth hung loose for what might have been a couple of eternities. At first, I was stunned by the whole misunderstanding. This was a new level of stupidity, the likes of which is incredible. But, even in my stunned state, the only instinct I had – was to laugh. Hard. So hard that I fell to the ground rolling in the wheat.
“Ah don’t see what’s so funny!” Braeburn stomped a hoof. “What the hay is goin’ on?!”
“Oh G-Goddesses!” I hooted, “This! This is too good!”
“What are ya talkin’ about!? Why are you laughin’?”
It took me a good minute to calm down. “The irony of it all,” I said. “Ya know what? Ah’m not gonna sugarcoat this: Braeburn, Ah know you’re gay.”
His face went from frustration to paralyzed dread within a nanosecond. “Y-You…”
I hugged him tightly. “Yes, yer Ma and Ah have known it fer quite a while now. And it’s okay. Really. Ya don’t need ta hide no more.”
At first, my colt didn’t know what to say to that. He did, however, wrap his hooves around me, hugging me back. For a while, no words were said. Perhaps neither one had any idea what to say at first. However, Brae did ask, “W-What gave it away?”
“There where a couple of thin’s, but let’s jus’ say we became aware when ya tried ta give that flower ta Caramel.”
He quickly sucked in some air. “That long?” He looked up at me. “Dad… why didn’t ya say somethin’?”
“Ya know that neither me or yer Ma would want ta tell ya how ta run yer life. We’d thought long ago that you’d come out on yer own terms eventually. After all, this is rather a personal thin’ and it jus’ didn’t seem right ta interfere in who ya happen ta like.”
“Okay…” he gently pushed away from the hug. “So… all this gay stuff… why brin’ any of it up now if ya knew all along?”
“Well…” I scratched the back of my head. “Let’s say that at this point, we were under the impression that maybe we didn’t let you know that we would be okay with this in the first place. So, we thought that by droppin’ some hits that maybe you’d finally come out.”
“Hints?” He blinked. “So yer sayin’ that all that stuff you’d did was to… Oh… Oh!” His eyes widen, an embarrassed blush overcame him. “Oh Celestia, f-fer a while there Ah thought ya were tryin’ ta tell me that… Ugh!” He buried his face in humiliation “Goddesses, dad! Fer a moment Ah thought ya were gay this whole time!”
I laughed. “Lookin’ back now, Ah can see why you’d think that. Still, you’re right that we should have just told you in the beginning.” I patted him on the shoulder. “Ah’m so sorry fer that.”
He shook his head. “Nah, Ah should be apologizin’.”
“Fer what?”
“Takin’ you and Ma fer granted.” He said, looking up from his hooves. “Ah feel like an idiot now.”
“Hey, ya didn’t know before. Again, we don’t mind this at all. Because regardless of yer attraction, the core thin’ about all of this, is you’re our son, and we want ya ta live life ta the fullest.” I smiled.
“Thanks, Dad,” he smiled. “So… We don’t have ta tell the rest of the family, do we?”
“Ya mean besides me and yer Ma?” He nodded. “Well, that depends on you. Ah guess some would be surprised, but there would be a few that would appreciate it.”
“Huh?” He blinked. “What do ya mean?”
“Well… Let’s jus’ say that chances are, yer uncle Bright Mac might have a kid that would appreciate that they’re not alone. But fer now,” I patted him on the back, “Let’s go tell Ma, and we’ll go out tonight. We’re celebratin’ yer comin’ out.”
As we walked back, my colt nuzzled me. “Thank ya so much, dad. Jus’… You’re not gonna tell anyone what Ah said back there, are ya?”
“Hm…”
“Oh c’mon dad! That was embarassin’!”
“Ah know.” I grinned playfully, “What kind of a father Ah’d be if Ah didn’t tell somethin’ embrassasin’?”
“Dad!”