You parked your car in the lot in front of the Bates motel. You didn't need a room. You had an apartment back in the city. But it wasn't your favorite room. It wasn't Norman Bates's office, the office in which you had nice talks, coffee, and some of the best intimacy of your life. But this time was different.

Norman wasn't like you. He hasn't accepted he was gay yet. You two sat in the parlour, coffee in your hand, Normands head resting on his elbows. "we can't. . I. . I'm not queer."