He didn't watch Terry incessantly. Reid knew how it felt to be stared at without mercy, though it was hard not to keep an eye on him. What concerned him was the silence. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with Terry, beyond the isolated silence. It was more of a learned behavior. Don't speak, and no one can judge. Be silent and let them draw their own conclusions. He blinked, turning his gaze down and rubbing his glasses against his shirt sleeve as Terry spoke. His response was a knowing nod, and he looked up to the young man's troubled question.

"I... Well I never really found out." He admitted, slipping his glasses back on. "I always knew. Or maybe that sounds stupid. When I started coming of age, most other boys started liking girls. I, on the other hand, didn't. And I was never really... into sports or the rough stuff my classmates were. I liked to paint and draw, and play music and cook and sew. And early on that was a big problem for me. But, I guess I'm getting off the question---I just knew. It wasn't a big revelation, since I never questioned it. I fell into what I was without much headache."

He tilted his head slightly. "Are you having trouble coming to terms? You know you can talk to me about anything if you're confused, or worried." The last thing Reid wanted was to know that Terry had begun to hate himself.