The next morning, Ian sits at the edge of the bed, unusually quiet.

“You okay?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

Ian rubs the back of his neck. “Spent my whole life knowing I liked guys. Then last night happened.”

You stay silent.

“It doesn’t mean I’m suddenly a different person,” he says after a moment, more to himself than to you.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Ian finally smirks, looking a little more like himself.

“South Side’s weird.”

You laugh.

“That’s your takeaway?”

“It’s the only explanation I’ve got.”