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Author's Notes / Summary:
Miguel questions Torquemada's preferences, and proposes a theory.
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“Why do you like straight boys best?” Miguel asks one night as he stares at the springs of the top bunk. They creak and flex when Torquemada fidgets.
“What?”
“When you were flirting with me, right at the beginning, you said you like straight boys best. Why?”
“The challenge, mi corazon.”
“What challenge? It’s not like you’re trying to fuck them.” There was a pause. “You know what I think? I think you hate yourself.”
“What?” Torquemada demands, and the springs squeal again as he pushes himself up in bed.
“I mean think about it—if you flirted with guys who were actually queer, they might reject you for being you. Maybe you assume all of them will hate you as much as you hate yourself. Or shit, maybe it’s some kind of — S or M, I don’t remember which is which. Maybe you hit on straight guys because they turn you down and you like getting hurt.”
“You could put Sister Pete out of business,” he says icily.
“I’m just saying.”
“Go to sleep, Miguel.”
The springs groan, and then settle into a peaceful quiet. Miguel puts his hands behind his head and closes his eyes.
“It’s okay, you know. I hate myself, too.”