IF THEY WERE AT the upstairs library in school, Park will be able to pretend Owen isn’t directly beside him. They’ll be separated by a partition and Park will be able to ignore the elephant in the room. However, they’re seated at the usual crammed dining table, CeeCee nowhere to be found. 

Asking the whereabouts of the kitten will be a great conversation starter but it’ll give space to address said elephant. He also stubbornly refuse to admit to himself he wants to see CeeCee. Tickle the back of her ears, the under of her chin and hear her contented meows.

“Everyone shits. There’s no need to be embarrassed.” Owen says, breaking the silence.

Easy for Owen to say. He’s not the one it happened to.

“I’m not,” Park mutters, ears pink. 

“Then why won’t you look me in the eye?”

“I’m marking your work.” He deflects, his pen scratching the paper with unnecessary force. “I’ll let you off with that excuse.”

“Thank you,” Park mumbles, as sarcastically as he can manage.

Bluffing his concentration on the work before him, Park sneaks glances at Owen from the corner of his eye chewing the tip of his pen. The earlier revelation echoes like a lone voice in the dark.

Owen is gay? Is he? He has a girlfriend. A ‘wife’—his best friend. Has Owen told anyone? His girlfriend maybe? Is Park the first to know? 

The burden of being the keeper of Owen’s secret weighs heavy on him. Park doesn’t want that kind of responsibility. Even his duty as a ‘Counselor’ is weak, at best. Superfluous. He doesn’t possess the experience to deal with the potential disadvantage of handling someone being in?—out of?—the closet.

It is a delicate situation. People will tell Park he should feel lucky someone found the courage to disclose that huge secret to him. Honored even. They’ll be wrong. It isn’t luck. It’s the Stranger Effect. People are most comfortable breaking down in front of a stranger than their loved ones. It’s the reason priests and therapists are popular. The power of anonymity is unparalleled.

Besides, if Park scrutinizes Owen enough, the redhead doesn’t look gay. Whatever that means. Park realizes that stereotypes plays a common good-cop-bad-cop roles. If Owen looks stereotypically gay, the coming out wouldn’t have surprised Park.

Owen has a square shaped face he hasn’t fully matured into but gives off a boyish charm. Nice nose. Nicer lips. Freckles that add to the aforementioned boyish charm. Brown eyes that are liquid mud-clay. Molten. Has an athletic build. Tall —about six foot three, maybe four.

“Finished checking me out?” Owen’s amused voice cuts through Park’s thoughts.

Flustered, Park blurts, “Why are you gay?”

Immediately, he regrets his words. Not what he’d wanted to say. 

Owen cocks his head, pops the pen out of his mouth and twirls it between two fingers. “I’m afraid I’ve never thought about it.”

“I didn’t mean why," Park backpedals. “I meant I’d have never guessed.”

“Why?”

Because you have a girlfriend is a can of too many feelings Park isn’t ready to open. He says the next obvious thing.

“Because you’re a jock.”

“Jocks can't be gay?” Owen challenges.

A good question Park absolutely isn’t ready to argue. Thus, he fumbles.

“Yeah. With the exception of female athletes. A lot of them are gay, it’s a rite of passage at this point.”

Owen stares at him with an unreadable expression.

“What? Was that homophobic?”

The twirling pen increases speed. “More amusing ignorance. Male athletes can be gay. Most are closeted.”

Like you. Park wisely keeps that observation to himself.

Sighing, Owen drops the pen. “It isn’t widely acceptable. Being gay even outside of sports isn’t widely acceptable anyhow.”

Owen stretches, his shirt riding up to reveal a glimpse of abs. Girls will cry if they hear this. Most notably, his girlfriend. Or whack him over the head. Cut him out of her life. Ostracize him. Call the mob on him.

Okay. Calm down Park. The appropriate response to the brief mention of Homosexuality Stigma in Sports —great essay topic— should be a sensitive and/or sympathetic uproarious support. What comes out of Park’s mouth on the other hand, is a basic admission.

“This is my first time meeting a gay person.”

“Your first time?” 

Owen sounds incredulous as if Park meets gay people every five minutes. Although, if he thinks about it, that is plausible. He’ll be none the wiser as evidenced.

“I mean, close proximity,” he gestures at Owen.

“Why? Scared you’ll catch the gay?” Owen teases.

Park ignores the comment. “None of the people I’m close to is gay.”

“None at all? Maybe Oyin is gay.”

“Nah, she’s not.” Park says confidently. 

“She might be and haven’t told you.” 

"If she is, she’ll tell me. We tell each other everything, so…” 

Owen hums thoughtfully. “Well, you have a gay friend now.”

“We’re not friends,” Park objects automatically.

Owen shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yes, we are.”

Park doesn’t argue. There is no need. Instead, he scans the open books scattered across the table. “We’ve wasted time as it is. Open to page 94. We have work to do.”

Park is overwhelmed by the depth of their conversation. And by depth, he means barely scratched surface. Stranger Effect or not, Park internally commends Owen for the bravery it must’ve taken to come out to him.

Owen, who focused on the textbook, looks exactly the same he did about an hour ago. Nothing has shifted. Yet, something feels different. The phrase ‘you notice something when you’re looking’ or similar has never been truer. 

In Park’s case, he’s noticing what he hadn’t cared enough to—how softly Owen blows bubbles when he’s concentrating hard, the gentle curve of his smile when he solves a tricky problem, his unwavering gaze on Park when Park is explaining or they’re having a discussion.

The downside of this trick is it gets the looker curious. It is similar to frequency illusion: once you actively take note of something, you’re bound to notice it more.

This is prevalent in Cognitive Bias: how the brain filters information it doesn’t deem noteworthy to catalogue. It compares to Selective Vision. 

Park’s brain should do well in continuing to filter out Owen’s nuances. Owen’s complexities and general existence should only be narrowed to one truth only: Park’s twice-weekly tutee.

Simple. Uncomplicated. Barely scratched surface.