Ben knows that it’s okay to like guys now. He knows how you can feel free to be whoever the person wants to be, he knows that… but he can’t seem to shake off the overwhelming feeling that he shouldn’t be with Butcher. That it wasn’t right to think about kissing the other man. That it wasn’t okay to be himself. He couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of shame whenever he thought about being happy with him.
He knew his father was long dead by now, but his words still made an impact to him. About ‘how unnatural queers were’ and other foul language that Ben was taught to be proper, including other factors in his time that influenced him to the greatest. He hated it so much.
And he loved Butcher. The way he didn’t make any sense with how thick his accent was. The way his closet was mostly just Hawaiian shirts and sweaters and two pairs of that fuckass trench coat he always wears. The way his eyes were different at the center near his pupil. The way he smirked whenever he was right about something.
He sometimes wishes he could be just more emotional.
