The gay bar had been a joke to Cooper. A tease his old friend thought he couldn’t handle; the man so known for being the model American being surrounded by those looked down on in society. But then he noticed too much. The way his hands curled around the beer. The way his lips pulled into that pretty smile. The way-

Cooper’s hands were trembling as he brought a cigarette to his lips, flicking his lighter a few times. His shaky hands and the wind of the evening kept extinguishing it. Frustrated, he snapped it towards the wall with a clink.

He stood there, unlit cigarette between his lips, staring at the broken lighter. A bit of the liquid dripped, glass glittering in the night.

He was supposed to be the face of the American Dream. A model citizen. He couldn’t be falling for a man. He couldn't be a homosexual.