Nate was quiet while Beau sorted through what he assumed must be very swirling, chaotic thoughts. He'd known Beau for a long time, and he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen him get to this level of drunken introspection. His thumb stroked lightly over the back of his hand, the touch a comfort to him as much as he hoped it was for Beau.
"If that's true," Nate began slowly, his free hand coming up to rest on the nape of Beau's neck when he dropped his head, "then they already do, they just don't know it yet. But maybe they won't hate you. Or maybe they'll have to suck it up and face their own bigotry because they love you. Either way, it's not fair to you to have to hide who you are." He was starting to wonder if he'd done Beau a disservice by not outing him years ago, but it was something he'd sworn he would never intentionally do.