big feelings about tommy kinard this morning.... just. god. you are raised by the kind of man you never hope to become. a violent, bigoted, temperamental asshole who lives in your house. who will always live in your house. so you leave, and even when you're in the army, thousands of miles away from home, he's there. in your drill sergeants, in your comrades who are more excited for the violence than the service. so you leave. and you become a firefighter. and he's still there in captain vincent gerrard. and as you grow and learn about yourself, you start to think - maybe part of the reason i'm so afraid is because they're right. i do want to kiss a man. i want to hold him and fuck him and breathe in the soft tenderness of sunday morning together. and it terrifies you, because you've always known, somewhere, but you kiss a man in a weho club where you know your coworkers can't find you, and your father is there. he's not there, not really, but he will always be there, standing over your shoulder, waiting for the chance to strike. so you spend several achingly lonely years coming to terms with this; with being gay, being too old for the kind of sappy forever-love everyone else gets, with your rescue cats who remind you of yourself a little too much to dwell upon. and then you meet him. this absolutely radiant, joyful, sensitive, kind, awkward man. and you start to fall in love, and it's terrifying, but you think he might be falling too. and you realize somewhere down the line that he doesn't feel worthy of being loved, doesn't feel certain that you'll stay, and you kinda want to tear his parents apart limb from limb, but that's not what's important. what's important is evan, who cooks you dinner, who kisses you like nobody's around to see, who makes you laugh so hard wine comes out your nose. you stay, and you stay, because every time he holds you, your dad fades from the room just a little bit more.
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