For the Fans

“Reaching for my phone, I open the camera and aim it at myself, posing for the perfect shirtless selfie. While I don’t plan on posting this one, I still take the picture. And I stare at it afterward, for minutes on end. Examining myself, frame and physique.”

This private selfie introduces the gap between Kyran’s outward confidence and his intense self-scrutiny. The mirror metaphorically represents the duality of his character, as he methodically checks over his “frame and physique” to ensure that he is projecting the person he wants others to see. This moment develops the theme of The Burden of Maintaining a Public Image as his carefully constructed persona requires constant reinforcement, even when no one is watching.

“You’re the stoner kid who laughs it all off because it’s easier than admitting you have no clue who you really are. Nothing holds your attention, and you tell yourself it’s because of your artist brain, but that’s just an excuse to slack off and flit around like a careless buffoon.”

Kyran cruelly assesses Avi, projecting his own deep-seated insecurities about identity and purpose onto him. The second-person “you” address makes the attack feel direct and personal, but the accusation that Avi has “no clue who you really are” is a direct reflection of Kyran’s own internal crisis. Ironically, Kyran’s own struggle with identity will soon emerge, as qualities he cannot tolerate in himself become reasons to attack Avi. As a result, the attack therefore helps characterize Kyran’s hostility as defensive without excusing the harm it causes.

“‘Fuck…you…’ I whimper, with tears pushing behind my eyes. Squeezing them shut tight, I scream into my bed, as loud as I can. I’m twelve years old again…Screaming into the mattress. Screaming until my lungs hurt.”

This passage is one of the novel’s earliest indications that Kyran’s anger is connected to an unresolved experience from childhood. The abrupt declaration, “I’m twelve years old again,” connects past and present, showing that emotional distress can make the earlier experience feel immediate. The repetition of “screaming” creates an insistent rhythm, while the image of screaming into a mattress suggests pain that is expressed but is still effectively silence. Because the story has not yet explained what happened to Kyran, the scene also shows the novel’s use of delayed revelation: Readers encounter the consequences of Trauma and the Cost of Secrecy even before the full cause is given.

“In the Catholic Church, especially in South Boston, funerals are an opportunity to warn the still breathing. To make sure we know that God has no problem smiting down whoever He wants, so while you’re still here, you better give your confession, and take your penance with an almost masochistic glee.”

This passage establishes the origin of Kyran’s rigid need for control and his deep-seated fear of judgment. The author uses vivid imagery of Catholic ritual to create a somber, oppressive atmosphere that reflects Kyran’s internal state. The oxymoron “masochistic glee” captures the disturbing idea that suffering is something to celebrate, showing how religion in his community turns guilt into a performance. Ultimately, the angry, bitter diction foreshadows later revelations about Kyran’s abuse within the church.

“‘Okay, ground rules. First off, this is about money, not feelings,’ she announces. ‘Just think about all the yummy cash we’ll be making, and it’ll help your cause, I promise. Second, you need to sell it.’ She sets up her video camera, peeking at Kyran. ‘Do you think pornstars actually like each other? No. They’re acting. We’re all aware that you two aren’t besties. Get over it.’”

Frankie establishes a deliberately transactional framework that allows Avi and Kyran to treat performance as separate from emotion. Her colloquial, breezy diction—“yummy cash,” “besties,” “Get over it”—reduces the seriousness of the situation and reinforces her pragmatic attitude toward online content creation. The italicized contrast between “money” and “feelings” visually separates the two ideas, creating irony as the novel repeatedly dismantles that distinction.

“Final term…No touching.”

This rule represents Kyran’s desperate attempt to maintain control and emotional distance in a situation that threatens his identity. The sentence fragment “No touching” is blunt and rule-like, mimicking the language of a contract. The ellipsis before it creates a hesitation, as if Kyran is bracing himself to say the one condition he needs most. The brevity of the entire quote reflects Kyran’s attempt to sound firm and unshakable, even though the shortness also hints at how fragile the boundary really is. It foreshadows how his walls will inevitably collapse.

“‘Lock it,’ he demands, sliding his tongue into my mouth to pet mine. ‘The door, Avi…Please lock it.’”

Kyran’s repeated demand to lock the door captures the sharp division he maintains between private desire and public exposure. The repetition of “lock it” gives the line urgency, while the shift from a command to “[p]lease” reveals how quickly his apparent control gives way to fear. The lock door becomes important as a metaphorical boundary between the two versions of Kyran’s life: what he can permit himself in secrecy and what he believes must remain invisible to others. This tension develops the theme of The Burden of Maintaining a Public Image, as the ellipsis and abrupt dialogue convey the anxiety underlying a moment that might otherwise be purely intimate.

“I’m broken. Damaged. He fucking ruined me.”

This short, staccato series of sentences provides a raw glimpse into Kyran’s internal crisis. Each sentence is shorter and sharper than a full thought—“Damaged” is a one-word fragment—which mimics the way painful truths often come out in bursts. The escalating intensity, moving from “broken” to “damaged” to “fucking ruined,” builds through emotional climax, with the curse word marking the peak of his shame. This moment develops the theme of Trauma at the Cost of Secrecy by showing how deeply Kyran has internalized the belief that his sexual awakening will become a destruction of his former self.

“We’ll flip for it.”

Avi’s casual suggestion to flip a coin sharply contrasts with Kyran’s intense need to control the situation, which infuriates him. The casual, colloquial phrasing—just four words—matches Avi’s easygoing personality and playful tone. That contrast reinforces their role as character foils: Kyran responds to vulnerability by imposing rules and hierarchies, while Avi is more willing to experiment without immediately assigning fixed meanings to the experience. The humor of the suggestion also briefly punctures Kyran’s escalating tension, conveying how Avi repeatedly destabilizes the rigid structures Kyran uses to protect himself.

“I’m not bi, I’m broke. And the sooner you get that through your head, the better off we’ll all be.”

The compact, alliterative phrase “not bi, I’m broke” turns Kyran’s denial into something resembling a slogan. The repeated “b” sounds make the phrase especially memorable and reinforce its rehearsed quality, suggesting that Kyran is trying to convince himself as much as Avi. The parallel structure (“I’m not … I’m …”) turns the statement into a forced either/or, ignoring the possibility that both could be true. It is his attempt to re-establish the transactional nature of their relationship after an experience that was deeply personal and emotional.

“And despite how little I want to do this, my lips curl into a satisfied smirk as I choose my username. Not_Your_Baby. Take that, Backwardz_Cap, you smug bastard.”

Kyran creates his online persona as an act of defiance against Avi, yet it becomes the key to exploring his authentic self. The username “Not_Your_Baby” is verbal irony, since Kyran is privately beginning to submit to Avi emotionally and sexually—he is becoming exactly what he claims not to be. The italicized internal monologue, with its colloquial insult “you smug bastard,” gives readers direct access to his petty, competitive thoughts, revealing that his defiance is fueled more by ego than certainty.

“Just leave, loser. No one wants you here.”

Kyran’s public rejection of Avi is brutal, dismissing his presence entirely to maintain his own social standing. The two short, punchy sentences use harsh consonant sounds (“leave, loser”) that make the insult feel like a verbal punch. The absolute language “No one” is hyperbole—an exaggeration that Kyran knows isn’t true, since, ironically, he himself wants Avi there. This starkly contrasts with their private intimacy, developing the theme of The Burden of Maintaining a Public Image: There is a painful dichotomy between Kyran’s hidden desires and the straight, tough-guy persona he performs for his teammates, friends, and father.

“Everything we had was on the surface. Wealthy, tons of friends. That smiling family in church every Sunday, thanking God for all our blessings…But it was bullshit. It was an act. Faking shit only lasts for so long.”

Kyran reveals the hypocrisy of his family’s public facade, linking their performative piety directly to the hidden trauma that fractured them. The author uses sentence fragments—“Wealthy, tons of friends”—to make Kyran sound like he’s listing off a résumé, which mirrors how his family treated their image as a checklist. The tone then breaks with the crude, colloquial word “bullshit,” a jarring shift that shows Kyran finally speaking plainly. His insistence that this façade “only lasts for so long” evokes The Burden of Maintaining a Public Image, as appearances may temporarily conceal dysfunction but cannot resolve what exists beneath them.

“Avi, do you have any idea how much I wish I could be like you? Be fucking different and proud of that fact?? I think that’s why I always hated you so much…Because I’m jealous of how…free you are.”

On their first real date, Kyran confesses the true source of his animosity toward Avi, as their entire history turns out to be rooted in envy rather than genuine hatred. The italicized words “different” and “free” carry emphasis, spotlighting the exact qualities Kyran longs for, which, ironically, were the ones he insulted Avi for having when they first met. This admission marks an important step in the theme of Self-Acceptance and the Process of Healing because Kyran can finally identify what Avi’s openness has exposed about his own dissatisfaction.

“Nothing changed, Avi. You and Kyran have had chemistry from the fucking start. I saw it. The fans saw it. That’s what had them begging for you two to get together.”

Frankie provides an outside perspective that validates Avi’s feelings, asserting that his and Kyran’s chemistry was always real and palpable to everyone. The author uses parallel structure—“I saw it. The fans saw it.”—to build authority through repetition, making Frankie sound like she’s delivering evidence. The italicized “Nothing” at the start functions as verbal emphasis, as if Frankie is raising her voice to break through Avi’s denial. The passage emphasizes the importance of the motif of social media and online personas by complicating the assumption that being watch makes an interaction false; instead, the platforms can be used to show genuine feelings.

“I’m not your baby…My grin widened, and I slapped my hands together, muscles stiffening with determination. I’m his.”

At a critical moment in a football game, Kyran draws strength from his private feelings for Avi. Earlier, the phrase “Not_Your_Baby” is an online identity build around denial; here, Kyran privately accepts the attachment it was designed to reject. The fact that the shift occurs during the game reinforces its importance, as this moment of inward honesty occurs within the public setting most closely associated with this carefully maintained persona. For the first time, Kyran begins to dismantle The Burden of Maintaining a Public Image as he has begun to stop lying to himself about what truly exists beneath it.

“And if we find out that this is you…and that you’ve been producing pornographic videos on school property, you’ll be expelled permanently. Along with anyone else who participated.”

The dean’s ultimatum represents the institutional threat that Kyran has feared all along, making the consequences of their secret life dangerously real. The italicized “is” adds a threatening emphasis, as if the dean is already convinced. The phrase “along with anyone else who participated” establishes the central conflict for Avi: protecting Kyran will require him to sacrifice himself.

“‘Baby, I think I’m in love with you,’ he whispers on my lips, dropping his forehead to mine, clutching onto my body for dear life.”

This quote is key as Kyran’s first explicit declaration of love, moving beyond their physical and secret relationship. The hedging phrase “I think” softens the confession, showing how vulnerable and unsure Kyran feels even in this brave moment. The idiom “for dear life” is a cliché that here regains its literal power—Kyran really is holding on as if he’s afraid of losing everything. The sensory details of whispering, forehead-touching, and clutching create an intimate, tender image that shows his complete surrender to his emotions and identity. This moment advances the theme of Self-Acceptance and the Process of Healing by showing Kyran beginning to articulate feelings he once needed to disguise as performance, rivalry, or financial necessity.

“‘Then do it.’ I slide my hands onto his thigh. ‘Please…’”

Kyran’s plea for Avi to kiss him in public, in front of his sister, is a turning point. The three-word command “Then do it” is a sentence fragment—short, direct, and stripped of hesitation. But the italicized “Please …” that follows completely shifts the tone from command to plea, and the ellipsis draws the word out into something soft and desperate. Earlier in the novel, Kyran repeatedly insists upon locked doors and secrecy; here, he actively asks Avi for affection in another person’s presence, underscoring the change he makes throughout the novel.

“The archdiocese has agreed to dismiss and laicize Father James McAdams of Cathedral of the Holy Cross in South Boston, per out of court settlement with the family of Kyran Thomas Harbor, Somerville, MA.”

This detached, bureaucratic language of the official record contrasts sharply with the personal damage concealed behind it. Terms such as “dismiss,” “laicize,” “per out of court settlement” create a cold, detached tone that refuses to acknowledge Kyran’s experience directly. This contrast develops the theme of Trauma and the Cost of Secrecy by showing how language itself can avoid the emotional truth of what happened to a survivor of sexual abuse.

“So what, just because…You think you know about something my sister told you happened, that means now I’m some fragile, wounded child?!”

Kyran’s reaction to Bridget revealing his abuse reveals that having his trauma exposed creates a new fear: losing control of how others understand him. The broken syntax, ellipsis, and abrupt shift into accusation reflect his emotional destabilization, while the emphasized “think” rejects Avi’s assumption that knowing what happened means fully understanding its effects. The metaphor, comparing himself to a “fragile, wounded child,” underscores the fact that Kyran fears being reduced to victimhood just as intensely as he previously feared disclosure itself.

“You told me I was overreacting. You accused me of making it up. You made me feel like I was sick for being raped!”

In Kyran’s raw confrontation with his father, Kyran directly accuses him of psychological abuse following the sexual assault. The author uses anaphora—the repeated sentence opening “You …”—to build a rhythmic accusation, with each line adding another crime to the list. This parallel structure makes his father’s actions sound like a pattern rather than isolated moments. The escalation from “overreacting” to “making it up” to “sick for being raped” builds toward a climax, revealing the deep damage caused by the invalidation of his trauma. This progression shows how Trauma and the Cost of Secrecy can create damage from several sources, not just the abuse itself. By articulating these consequences directly, Kyran changes from the child who was not believed to the adult who demands the ability to define what happened to him.

“I’m in love with an angel…And his name is Avi.”

This line concludes Kyran’s public Instagram post, where he details his love for Avi. The metaphor of Avi as “an angel” is loaded with meaning, especially for Kyran, whose relationship with religion has been so painful—here, he reclaims sacred language for something that once condemned him. The ellipsis creates a dramatic pause before the reveal of Avi’s name, mimicking the rhythm of a public confession. The line represents the complete integration of his public and private selves. For the first time, social media and online personas are used to make an authentic relationship openly visible.