“I’m not crying,” he says. “It just sounds like I am.” I hold his head tightly, running my fingers through his hair and kissing his crown until he settles. “That’s not even the main thing. It used to be, but it isn’t anymore,” Ant says, his voice small and childlike. “It’s you, Robbie. Now it’s you. You’re so fucking sweet and so fucking nice, and people are dicks, and I just…can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I can’t stand it, okay? I can’t fucking stand knowing that if we come out, a fuck-ton of people are going to have shit to say about it, and you’re going to read it and hear it
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