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How to Turn a Straight Guy Gay
Epilogue
In just a year's time, everything seems to have changed.
Edward Senior had a heart attack and died, which meant Edward was free to go back to Carlisle and Esme. He inherited his half of the Cullen fortune, thanks to Carlisle. Technically, he didn't really inherit anything, Carlisle just made sure he got his fair share.
Which made Edward fucking rich.
As soon as he was off of his leash, we flew down to Texas together and he met my parents and he met his mother.
My parents were as supportive as they could be, I suppose. They loved Edward―who wouldn't?―and he fit in pretty well. My parents just have a hard time accepting the fact that there won't be a Mrs. Jasper Whitlock and a herd of half-mes. They never really understood how I was gay; explaining that vagina made me nauseous wasn't exactly my top priority so I just let them continue to be confused. They accepted Edward for who he was and what we were together, and that was all I really could ask for, even if they didn't fully understand.
Edward's mother was another story. I made him promise not to bring me up or mention the fact that he was gay, not right away. The very last thing I wanted was for him to lose his mom immediately because she couldn't wrap her head around having a bisexual son who was in love with a man. Does he ever listen to me though?
Of fucking course not. The blank look on his face when he walked back into the hotel room broke my heart and told me the whole story. I went to him and wrapped him up in my arms and kissed him and told him over and over that I loved him and that he needed to remember that, I would always love him.
He took me to the bed and sat me down on it, looking directly in to my eyes as he said, "I don't think we should date anymore. It doesn't sound right when I tell people that you're my boyfriend."
I remember thinking that I had to be hearing him wrong, I had to. There was no way he was saying what I thought he was saying. He didn't mean it, not that... Oh God. "W-what?" I stuttered.
"I don't like telling people that you're my boyfriend, it just... It doesn't sound right at all, Jasper. Neither does saying that we're dating, I don't want to tell people we're dating. I don't want to date you anymore, I don't want to be your boyfriend."
"Why?" I cried, growing quickly hysterical.
He dropped down into a crouch in front of me, looking almost patronizingly as he took my hands in his. "Because it's not enough for me anymore, Jas. I want more, I need more."
I remember the burn of the tears, the twist in my heart and in my gut. Oh, fucking God, it hurt. "I'm not enough for you," I repeated back to him quietly, brokenly, turning my head away so he couldn't see that he was killing me.
How the fuck could he do this? Now! Here! How was... What... Why?
"That's... no! Jas, are you... Jasper, are you crying? I haven't even got to the good part yet!" he said excitedly.
I remember wondering just how much he was like his father. Did he get off on this, hurting people, hurting me? He was ripping my fucking heart out and he was... laughing? What the fuck was wrong with him?
"Wait, Jas, why aren't you looking at me? Jasper, what's wrong?"
"What the fuck do you mean what's wrong? I love you and you're telling me we're not supposed to be together anymore, suddenly I'm not good enough to be your boyfriend and you're too good to date me!" I yelled.
And his face went pure white, sickly, and he grimaced. "Oh Jesus," he muttered, looking at the ground.
That was when I started to wonder if maybe, just maybe that I was mistaken and he used the wrong words―again. Because he looked humiliated and terrified and not at all excited like he'd been before. He was no longer crouching, but down on one knee, in front of me, something... something in his hand.
I started to wonder, why he was on his knee like that, because he had been crouching before and there was really only one reason for him to be kneeling like that in front of me.
Oh, fuck. "Were you just going to propose?" I asked confusedly.
He simply set the ring box on my knee and kept his head bowed forward.
I didn't open the box, I just sighed and put my hand in his hair. "Oh, Edward."
"Why do I have to ruin everything?" he asked. "Why, just once, can't I fucking do this the right way? This was supposed to be sweet and... God, Jasper, I'm so fucking sorry," he groaned, leaning his face into my knees.
"Shh," I urged, then I gripped his hair and stood up, bringing him up with me.
I shoved the ring box back into his pocket and his eyes went wide and uncertain, frightened as I pressed him backwards, further and further until he was outside the door again. Then I closed it in his face. The tables were turned on him and he was definitely the one who's heart was twisting and racing, he was the one who probably felt like he was going to throw up all over the fucking place.
"Jasper, please, baby, I'm―"
"Edward, you're back!" I said cheerily, pulling the door open. "How did it go? Is your mom awesome?"
His brow wrinkled and he looked utterly fucking confused and I raised my eyebrows at him, trying to get him to move on, forget the ridiculous almost-proposal he just fucked up royally. Forget it happened and try again, do it right.
"Um. It went good," he said slowly. "She's like I remembered, I guess."
"Tell me all about her," I gushed happily, dragging him inside.
We sat and he talked about his mom for a long time. His hand kept nervously reaching for the ring box in his pocket and my eyes would follow his movement every time. Finally, the conversation started to sway.
"I didn't even realize I'd said it until she reached forward and patted me on the cheek. She said, 'We call them guy friends down here, sweetie, you may want to be careful with the term 'boyfriend' or someone is going to assume you're dating a boy.' I was going to take your advice, but shit, Jas, you were on my mind constantly, you always are. It's fucking impossible to keep you a secret, especially when I don't want to. So I told her, 'Mom, his name is Jasper, and he is my boyfriend.' She thought I was misspeaking again. She kept patting me in a mothering type of way that made me feel five years old, like I didn't know what that word meant.
"I think she just wanted to believe that she had to explain it or something, like I was still a kid who needed stuff explained. I don't think she was really denying the possibility that I'm gay, but maybe. I don't know, Jas, but either way, I kind of..." he trailed off, grimacing.
"Oh no," I gasped.
"Yeah."
I started laughing and he glared at me in a way that just made me laugh harder. "What did you say?"
"I told her if she patted me like a five year old again I would have to sit on the other side of the room because I couldn't take that shit anymore. Then I told her that I knew what boyfriends are and that she needed to look up the term 'dating' because it meant the same thing everywhere. I told her that I'm gay, that I love you, and that we sleep together, just like every other couple, and that even though you're my friend, my best friend, you're my boyfriend. I might have used the word lover a few times, and I might have told her that if she couldn't accept the fact that you and I are together then she would just have to forget that my visit ever happened."
"Oh no, Edward," I said.
"It's not funny."
I was trying really hard not to laugh. I was, really. But I could tell now that everything had turned out okay in the end, because that blankness from before was a façade so he could propose and not give it away, but he'd screwed that up quite well. I could see his own amusement wanting to come out, but I held in my laughs as I tucked him under my chin and rocked him. "Of course it's not funny," I agreed.
He continued then, telling me how she took a few minutes to absorb that and then everything shifted completely and I guess they spent the rest of their time talking about me. Which apparently led Edward to the conclusion that 'boyfriend' and 'dating' we no longer two words we should use to describe ourselves.
He told me how much his mom wanted to meet me and how I sounded 'perfect'. I seemed to already have the mother's stamp of approval. Edward slid away from me again, kneeling before me on the floor. He started by admitting to having the rings since a month before the trip. He said he'd been waiting for a while to propose because he knew he was going to fuck it up, and he really hadn't wanted to do that.
The second time around, his proposal actually worked and there was no confusion about whether he was breaking up with me or asking me to marry him. I said yes wholeheartedly and we were well into the morning hours before we finished making love.
Looking back, I wouldn't change the proposal for the world. It was just so fucking Edward. He wasn't perfect, he never would be, and there are still times when he says the absolute wrong thing at the worst time possible, but we get through it. It's definitely made me stronger and taught me to not freak out right away, and it's taught him to fucking just stop for a moment and think!
We spent a few days with his mom before we had to fly home and she was really pretty great―and unsurprisingly really pretty. Edward looked so much like her, especially when they laughed. And God, did it make me happy to see them together, laughing. The three of us got along great and she was incredibly supportive, even if it was just because she didn't want to risk losing her son.
She lives in Seattle now, to be closer to us. And she's even met someone that Edward approves of. Of course, she also loves our Calla and Calla loves her back.
Stupid Washington won't let us get married, but we do have our 'everything but', which unfortunately has to be enough for now. One day, we'll have our wedding and we'll say fuck you to injustice. We're fighting for it, for our rights, and I don't think I could possibly love Edward anymore than I do when I see him proudly going up on stage to sing in a 'No H8' shirt―then owns an Elton John song just to rub it in.
He calls me his husband and I do the same and our matching rings solidify it as much as rings can. We still get treated like shit occasionally, but Edward's quick to the draw, and quick tempered, and he usually gets the best of the bigoted assholes.
One day, he'll be my husband and those prejudiced fuckers can suck my dick because it's what they deserve, it's what we deserve.
Just thinking about it now really makes me want to go out into the Space Needle or something and make out with him like we're alone. I'm so sick of the hate, I just want to marry my Edward and stop being labeled as unnatural or whatever the fuck they're calling us these days.
Love is love.
Edward really, really isn't shy about being gay. I never expected him to embrace it quite so openly as he chose to, but I'm certainly not complaining. He just fucking loves to hold my hand in public, and kiss me in public, and stick his hands in my back pockets in public. Usually I'm pretty sure he's just looking for a fight, just begging someone to say something so he can go off on them. He's such a preacher. I really fucking adore him.
He has Carlisle on our side, helping us fight, and since Carlisle is now the head of the Cullen Firm, we basically have that whole practice agreeing that gays deserve rights too. It's not much in the long run, but it's definitely better than having them against us. It has to help.
Edward has dented his inheritance supporting the cause, and we both take time to do what we can. I feel so fucking guilty sometimes for not having done this sooner.
Edward also dented his inheritance by purchasing a house. A big house. With a pool. And Calla now has her own bedroom. And I have my own really fucking awesome art room. And Edward has his own composing room. And our bedroom is fucking huge.
It feels so fucking dirty to be so happy that someone died and made us rich, but I can't even bring myself to feel bad. I can't feel bad for that bastard who alienated his sons so completely that they didn't even cry when he died. Not one fucking tear from anyone at the funeral. Not even his bitch wife could fake a hint of sadness as they lowered him into the dirt, I think she actually fucking sneered.
All I could think was that I really hoped when I died, someone would cry for me. I never wanted to become like him, so hated, so disgustingly angry and resentful. But I didn't think that I would ever change that much.
A year really did change so much though, yet so little at the same time.
Even if Edward refuses to be my boyfriend, he's still mine and I am his. My husband, my other half, mine. I still can't be had, though I made an exception for Edward and he's still as straight as he was before, other than when he's being decidedly gay. He's my straight boy that I wouldn't trade for the fucking world, and I'm his bratty, dramatic gay boy that I know he's hopelessly in love with.
We've learned so much from each other, how to love and trust and live and be. I feel like I never really knew what it was to laugh until I met him, or cry, or anything. He changed everything. My life was altered completely the moment I first looked into his deep green eyes, whether I knew it at the time or not, and just like that I hadn't needed anything else. He's my air and my nourishment, my pulse and gravity. He's the things most important to my life, to me.
I couldn't possibly be happier than I am right here, right now, in his arms, where I intend to spend the rest of my night, my days, my life. I have him, and I don't really need anything else. He's the essential need and everything else is just materialistic. That won't change in a year, even if other things will.
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