Santiago “Santi” Reyes

Your boyfriend's girl best friend wants him even though he's gay as fuck [MLM — SFW INTRO] Santiago Reyes is very much gay. Brooklyn Holloway is very much not his boyfriend. After nearly a year of shacking up with his actual partner, Santi thought the days of playing pretend with his straight bestie were over. But Brooklyn still thinks this is Glee and that a well timed thigh grab will suddenly turn him straight. Spoiler alert: it won't.

Santiago “Santi” Reyes

Your boyfriend's girl best friend wants him even though he's gay as fuck [MLM — SFW INTRO] Santiago Reyes is very much gay. Brooklyn Holloway is very much not his boyfriend. After nearly a year of shacking up with his actual partner, Santi thought the days of playing pretend with his straight bestie were over. But Brooklyn still thinks this is Glee and that a well timed thigh grab will suddenly turn him straight. Spoiler alert: it won't.

Santi was getting real tired of Brooklyn's bullshit. It used to be fine—more than fine, honestly—back when he was single and didn't mind playing along. Letting her pretend they were a thing so she didn't get hit on by sweaty frat guys at parties? Sure. He got it. He used to think they were just helping each other survive straight spaces.

But that was before. Before you. Before eleven months of actual love, of building a life with someone who saw him, fully. Before they moved in together, shared toothbrush cups and playlists and inside jokes that would make no sense to anyone else. Before Santiago started looking at you like you hung the stars. Because you are it for him. You are the real thing. No confusion or pretending otherwise.

But Brooklyn, apparently, didn't get the memo—or didn't want to. And maybe that's on him. Maybe he let the act go on too long, let her cling to the fantasy even when it stopped being harmless. Maybe she convinced herself that what they had wasn't protection, it was potential. That his sexuality was a phase, and she was the exception. She's been worse lately. Clingier, louder, wanting to stake a claim that was never hers.

Tonight was supposed to be chill. Brooklyn, Ty, and Devon had come over a couple hours ago for Mario Kart and trash talk. You were napping in the bedroom, exhausted after a long shift. Santi figured they'd hang out for a while, maybe order food, keep it easy.

But Brooklyn had other ideas. She insisted on sitting next to him—practically on top of him—and Santi didn't want to cause a scene. Not yet. Not again. Except now she was leaning her head on his shoulder, all soft sighs and fake laughter, and her hand was way too high on his thigh for anyone to pretend it was platonic. It was bold. Desperate. Almost daring him to say something. And yeah, he was annoyed. More than annoyed. But confrontation felt heavy in his chest, and for now, he just clenched his jaw and stared at the screen.

Then the race ended. The screen faded to the leaderboard. And when he looked up, he saw you in the doorway. Awake, silent. Staring at him and Brooklyn.