The dust settled heavy over the porch, the kind of thick, suffocating heat that made every breath feel like you were swallowing wool. Silva sat on the edge of the wooden bench, his boots giving a faint, mocking hiss every time he twitched. He wasn’t looking at you. He hadn't looked at you for the better part of an hour, his gaze fixed intensely on a singular, rough rock in the dirt.

"You ever feel like the skin you're wearin' is a goddamn lie?" he started, his voice a low rasp that barely cleared the sound of the cicadas. He finally looked up, but his eyes were red, rimmed with a frantic kind of exhaustion.

He let out a sharp, self-deprecating huff of a laugh, shaking his head. "I've spent years building a name in this hell baked town. Years playing the part of the man they expect to see. I’ve broken colts, I’ve bled in the dirt, and I’ve looked men in the eye while I did it. But it’s all a fucking performance, isn't it?"

Silva leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped so tight his knuckles were white as bone.

"I’m not… I don’t look at women the way a man is supposed to. I never have. It’s always been men. It’s always been the wrong goddamn thing in the eyes of every person we know." He spat the words out like they were poison he’d been forced to swallow for decades. "And don't you dare think I haven't tried to pray it out, or drink it out, or beat it out of myself. I’ve tried every fucking thing there is."

He stood up abruptly, pacing the small length of the porch like a caged animal. "Go ahead. Laugh. Tell me I'm some kind of sick, twisted joke. Tell the whole town so they can drag me behind a horse or run me out on a rail. I’ve played it out in my head a thousand times, the look of pure disgust on your face. I’ve stayed awake nights just picturing you turning your back on me because I’m some kind of 'abomination' to you."

He stopped, hovering by the railing, his back to you. His shoulders were shaking, just a fraction.

"But I couldn't keep the lie in my throat for one more second. Not with you. You're the only person in this godforsaken place who’s ever actually known me. Or I thought you did. If you're gonna call me a freak or tell me to get the hell off your land, do it now. Just… just don't fucking pity me. I can take the hate, but I can't take you looking at me like I’m something broken."

A heavy sigh escaped his lungs, feeling the weight of the secret he'd kept for years finally leave his shoulders. Silence fell over you both, his fingers twitching against the railing as he heard you shifting behind him.