I don’t want to be like “it’s homophobia” but genuinely people do not seem to see Gay Men as People who have unique experiences and personalities shaped by their gayness AND their masculinity.
Tommy is closed off and defensive in that scene because Gerrard basically called him a fairy to his face and now he’s being ambushed with a serious conversation. This is a natural way to react when you’re a gay man because (and I shouldn’t have to explain this) when you’re a gay man and a homophobe is near you, you get uncomfortable and have to retreat into a shell that will keep you safe. This is the reason so many gay men are “sassy” because having an acerbic tongue is often the only defense mechanism for a visibly feminine man. For more masculine men like Tommy, that defensive shell is going to look a lot like retreating hard into masculinity. So a gay man clamming up and getting snippy when faced with homophobia is pretty damn understandable.
Source: I’m a gay man and my main defense mechanisms are silencing myself or using dry humor to deflect.
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Modern day Steve has a collection of funko pops in his classroom and they are all of the band Corroded Coffin, particularly Eddie Munson.
His students think his obsession with the band is cute but strange, some of the students even buy Steve Corroded Coffin merch for Christmas and it warms his heart. He isn't going to tell them that he can get any merch he wants for free, that's his own little secret.
"Bye, I'm going home to kiss Eddie Munson!" He calls out as he leaves the classroom and his students laugh because they think their teacher is so silly and weird.
"Sure, Mr Harrington, tell him we said hi."
"Of course." Steve says with a cheeky smile. They think he's going to go home to a giant collection of Corroded Coffin merch and an Eddie Munson cut out. If only they knew that Eddie Munson was at his house right now making him dinner in a pink apron.
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Harrington left a mark on his chest and it aches sweetly. Billy's skin tingles.
He stretches himself, all worn out and so exhausted he stops thinking about what's happening at Cherry Lane and that home is so far away it's something people only ever seen on television and postcards.
"Billy," Harrington is next to him, skin pressed against his. "Let's get burgers."
Harrington is as lonely as Billy. Always wants him to spend the night, wants to share his pizza, offered with huge brown eyes Billy can't say no to. Has a stupid big dick Billy can't get enough of, knows how balance kisses and bites and makes it hard for Billy not so scream his name.
Billy hates him, because it gets harder to leave every day. He hates him, because Harrington is the only good thing about Hawkins. Because Harrington will get bored eventually, will throw him away, because at the end of the day he's just a rich kid getting all the toys he wants.
"Cheeseburger with bacon," Billy still says, because Harrington is the worst drug he's ever been addicted to. "You're buyin'."
He lights himself a cigarette to distract himself from the beam on Harrington's face.
They sit in the living room, Billy in a bathrobe that says "Harrington Senior", because Harrington gets a kick out of fucking him in it. Another thing Billy tries not to like - behind polo shirts and expensive cologne Harrington is just as fucked up as Billy.
Daddy issues can't get fixed with money, Billy knows that. He prefers alcohol and fights to tell everybody that's where he got the scars from.
He's chewing on his burger when Harrington goes for the kill.
"Do you wanna be my boyfriend?" he asks, like he has any idea what that means. Like he has thought about it for a while.
Billy swallows slowly. "You don't want that, Harrington."
He rubs the red bite mark on his pec, because it's like Harrington's teeth are still there.
"I do." Harrington is used to get what he wants. "I really like you."
It hurts more than it should have.
"You know I like to suck dick." Billy snorts. "You don't know me."
Nobody knows Billy, not here. Harrington likes to look him in the eyes during sex, but Billy always squeezes them shut.
Harrington tilts his head. "I know you like to swim, you like to read but you always hide it, you don't like locked doors, you love to eat burritos, you're always up so early and watch the sun rise. I know you pretend to hate Max, but you'd always protect her."
It's like Harrington is stripping him naked, like he knew it be like that and came prepared, like he puts a fucking thought into it.
"I don't read," Billy says weakly. The room is fucking blurred and all he can see is Harrington's face, tenderness written all over it.
"Liar," Harrington whispers.
"I don't like you, Harrington." Billy's heart is in his throat.
"Liar." Harrington’s hand is on his.
Billy blinks the tears away. Men don't cry is what his old man taught him with a belt and his fists.
Harrington always gets what he wants.
"I'm not your girlfriend or shit. No one can ever know - or we're fucking dead." Billy can't look at him.
"I know." Harrington presses a kiss on his cheek. "Boyfriends."
Something in Billy uncurls and he feels like he drank half a bottle of whiskey.
"Boyfriends," Billy mumbles. It's scary. It's the best thing about this god damn town.
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