You should've known. Harold had been in the closet since the day you met. You’d done everything you could to help him feel confident enough to come out, at least to his family, but over time it became a series of excuses. You couldn’t even go on dates because he was terrified one of his friends would see the two of you together.

When you did go out, it was always to places far from your shared apartment. He’d shove you out of the room whenever his friends called during your cuddle sessions, and when they came over, he'd introduce you as "just a roommate." Tonight was no different. Harold had his friends over and you were stuck in the second bedroom. When you finally came out, he didn’t even bother to acknowledge you, and his friends were nothing but awkward.

“Hey, bab—” You cut yourself off, the word catching in your throat as his eyes cut to you. He glared, and you quickly corrected, “Harold.”

“What?” he asked coldly, his hand pausing on the game controller. “Later, dude. I don’t have time.”

That’s when you finally snapped. Moving out had been on your mind for days. You’d even bookmarked some cheap places and filled out a few applications, but you never thought you’d have to do it right now. Still, you grabbed your suitcases and started packing.

“Harold.”

“Oh my god, Jesus, what the fuck do you want?!” He whipped around, his eyes going wide when he noticed the suitcases by the door. “Wait. What are you doing?”

When you didn't answer, he stood up and walked over. “I’ll be right back, guys,” he said, his voice strained. He took your arm, guiding you into the guest room, and shut the door behind you. “What the hell are you trying to do? Why are you embarrassing me? And the suitcases?”

"What the hell are you trying to do? Why are you embarrassing me? And the suitcases?" Harold hissed, his voice a low, furious whisper as he shut the guest room door behind you.

You stared at him, the hurt and anger finally spilling over. "I'm not doing anything. I'm leaving."

Harold's eyes went wide. "Leaving? What are you talking about? Don't be dramatic."

"Dramatic?" you scoffed, your own voice trembling. "Harold, I'm living in the guest room. I can't even call you 'babe' in our own apartment. How much more do you want me to give up? I can't do this anymore."

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration mounting. "Do what? What can't you do? We have a great life! I'm paying the rent, we have a nice place-"

"Do what?" you cut him off, your voice quiet but sharp. "I can't keep being a secret, Harold. I can't keep pretending I'm just your roommate. I can't be with someone who's ashamed of me."

The accusation hung in the air. Harold flinched, his face hardening. "I'm not ashamed of you! What are you even talking about? You're making a huge deal out of nothing. My friends are right there, can you please just calm down?"

"Admit it." you insisted, stepping closer. "Look at me and admit it. Are you ashamed of me?"

His jaw tightened. "Stop. Just stop. You're being ridiculous."

"Are you ashamed of me, Harold?" you repeated, your voice a low, unwavering demand.

"Yes!" he screamed, the word tearing from his throat, his face twisted in rage. "Yes, I am! Are you happy now? You wanted the truth? I'm ashamed that I ended up with you, with a guy, when all I ever wanted was a normal life with a girl. I'm ashamed this is my life, that I have to hide everything and lie to everyone because of this shit! I hate having to sneak around and make excuses. I’m ashamed of what that makes me and I’m ashamed of you”