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It’s not that he didn’t know about being bisexual; He’s been at friggin’ Samwell for three and a half years. He knows tons of gay dudes and lesbians and bisexuals and pan folk and queer people and, well, Shitty. He’s just never been given a chart and asked to think about where he fits on it. He's just always pretty much assumed he was straight. Or mostly straight. If someone pressed him he'd probably say he'd be flexible if need be, but no one had ever pressed. No one’s ever asked him if he’s bi, so he’d never really asked himself if he was bi. He’s always known he wasn’t full-on gay-- he loves women.
Holster loves: big eyes, plush lips, long legs and he is definitely an ass man... yeah. He loves women; that’d never been a question. Holster has never had to think about his sexuality before. That’s privilege, brah, he hears Shitty’s voice in his head. And now he's in HDFS 332, staring down at his worksheet, where he's been asked to place X marks on the charts where he feels his own orientations fall.
Lardo is in the seat next to him, and he spies on her paper a little, where she’s putting some X’s toward the feminine/woman/female side and a whole bunch smack in the middle. She leans back in her seat and raises an eloquent eyebrow at him, like what? With her awesome Lardo-patented I will fight you, glare.
He looks at the chart in front of him-- well, charts. The first several are pretty easy for him. Holster knows he was assigned male at birth and that he has male genitalia (and probably male chromosomes, but no one’s ever checked him) and that he identifies as a man (well, he identifies as a bro, but it’s not on the chart). But the next scale throws him for a loop: Romantic and Sensual attraction. Includes spending time, snuggling/cuddling, light kissing, intimate nonsexual touch (such as hair stroking, non-sexual massage, sleeping together).
Well, Holster couldn’t possibly give less shits who he snuggles with. Dudes are just as good as ladies for that. Being on the hockey team pretty much means there’s always someone in his space, and that someone is almost always a dude (unless it’s Lardo). Actually, that person is almost always Ransom. He’s never thought of wanting to be close to Ransom as anything other than a reflection of how truly awesome Ransom is, or how awesome their friendship is.
But it is true, he looks forward to being close with Ransom-- they hug in a way that would definitely merit no homos on another team. They share Holster’s tiny bunk when it’s freezing in the attic. Ransom is his emergency contact. Ransom is the first person he sees in the morning and the last person he sees at night. Ransom pets his hair when he’s freaked out and Holster is the only one who can bring Ph balance back to the delicate fucking coral reef which is Ransom’s mental state back to rights.
Holy shit, he thinks, as the professor tries to bring their attention back to her PowerPoint, assuming that everybody has made it through the chart without having some sort of crisis without even getting down to the Sexual Attraction bar. Jesus.
Holster ends up quickly putting the X almost in the middle, but closer to the “prefers feminine/female/woman.” side. Does really liking snuggling and being "casually intimate," with your male best friend mean he's biromantic? He turns back to his notes and leaves the last scale untouched. The revelation that he’s sensually/romantically attracted to Ransom is way more than enough for one day, thanks.
When he gets back to the attic, it's almost eleven, and Ransom is laying out on his stomach on their ugly shag rug in a threadbare pair of boxers and a dark tank. He twists his head and smiles at him when Holster reaches the top of the attic stairs.
Big eyes. Plush Lips. Long Legs and... Hockey Ass. Wow. Okay. Shit.
He stands there with his mouth hanging open for just a moment before he shakes his head and tosses his bookbag down.
And there goes his answer on the sexual attraction chart. Wow.