Sorry if the formatting between paragraphs is weird. Wattpad messed that up.

***

Edwin is surprised how easy it is to text Vincent. It's polite, to the point, not awkward, no flirting. They exchanged numbers to arrange where Vincent is going to take him and when, but he expected it to be another situation where Vincent's presence invades his breathing space. Instead, their messages are almost distant. For the first time, it feels like he can see beyond Vincent's presence. It's intimate, but Edwin is aware that's only his perception: now he has an armour against Vincent's piercing and analysing gaze and Vincent is stripped bare of his outward playfulness.

"If you've not changed your mind yet," so starts Vincent's first text, "I've found the perfect introduction to queer history for you."

Edwin's resolve strengthens at the doubt Vincent expresses. "I have not changed my mind."The perfect introduction turns out to be a walk through Antwerp. Edwin has to admit it's a good idea. They won't be alone together. He might meet other queer people. As long as they're walking, he won't have to look at Vincent. And gay history seems like the best way to understand gay culture.

They agree on next Sunday, because he might as well bite the bullet. The days after the details have been arranged are not unnerving in their lack of texts from Vincent, no, even if he can conjure what Vincent is thinking about him or different scenarios that could play out on Sunday. Vincent won't embarrass him, he will show up, he won't mock him, he won't flirt with Edwin - no, he will, but Edwin can deal with that and will know it's not serious - he won't flirt with anyone else and leave Edwin alone. It's a walk, they will talk, they will be polite. Vincent will teach him and Edwin will listen and learn and try not to judge.

On the day of, he eats an early lunch that coils in his stomach. He dresses warm and comfortable, since it's a chilly October day, and he absolutely does not stand in front of his closet for twenty minutes. Then it's a waiting game because they're only gathering at 3:45 pm and he doesn't want to be too early. He tries to read, but it doesn't stick, so he dusts and vacuums the living room instead. And folds the laundry. And vacuums the bedroom for good measure.

He arrives at the bar at 3:30 pm. It sits on the corner of a street and is called Que Pasa and Vincent mentioned it's an LGBT bar. Edwin walks to and fro along the tram tracks embedded in the street, his hands in his pockets. He consciously relaxes his shoulders and studies the buildings, the passers-by, the names of the streets splitting off, the pattern of the cobblestones. When he stops again in front of Que Pasa, he looks down the street and sees a familiar face. He smiles before he realises it and takes a hand out of his pocket. Vincent sees him too and waves.

"Edwin, darling. Glad you are here. Let's go inside. I'm sure we're not the only early birds." Edwin nods and follows Vincent. He makes a beeline for a group of people standing off to the side. They broaden the circle for Edwin and Vincent and smile.

A guy with some kind of Asian roots exclaims: "Vincent! I didn't expect you. You're here for the walk?"

Vincent laughs. "Surprise, darling!" He puts a casual hand on Edwin's shoulder. "Edwin here wanted an introduction to queer history."

The Asian guy holds out his hand. "Nice to have you. I'm Philippe and I'm the guide."

Edwin turns to Vincent. "Do you know everyone? I thought ..." He trails off. He knew Vincent didn't organise this walk and that someone else would talk about the gay history of the places they will pass, but Vincent knows the guide and whoever else, so Vincent won't be paying attention to him. That should be a good thing, but he had hoped to have at least one person in his corner. If Vincent talks with all these other people he knows, Edwin will be the odd one out again, the one who doesn't belong with these people, who knows nothing. He'll be judged or make a fool of himself. Vincent forgave him and was willing to teach him when it was just the two of them, but would he still remember that when he's among like-minded friends?

Edwin can't look Vincent in the eyes and focuses on the wall over his shoulder, but Vincent and Philippe and the people next to them all laugh. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" a Black woman says. Her voice is low and soothing. She smiles at Edwin. "It's because he does so much for the community. And he's a fabulous guy, as I'm sure you know."

Vincent places a hand over his heart. "Aw, thanks, honey."

"I'm Sabine, by the way," the woman says. The Black man next to her is her husband, Jules, and there's an East-Asian woman with shorn hair called Roos.

Vincent puts his hand on Edwin's shoulder again, warm and heavy even through his coat. "It's just these people honestly. I knew about the walk from Philippe. If you want queer friends that don't know me, you should talk to the other people here. Even I don't know every queer person in Antwerp." They all laugh, but Edwin only relaxes when Vincent's hand migrates back to his side.

"So how did you meet Vincent?" Roos asks. "Since I've never seen you before at any meetings."

"We met at Bonaparte," Vincent replies before Edwin can open his mouth. "Edwin was curious about queer history, so I offered to help him out."

"Out of the goodness of your heart, huh," Sabine says. "I see what you're doing, old fox."

"Can you blame me?"

Edwin's cheeks heat when Vincent winks at him, but he doesn't say anything because that'd just make it worse. Luckily, more people enter and Philippe goes to greet them.

They end up with a group of about twenty people. Usually, Edwin would stick more to the middle or the back of the group, but Vincent follows right on Philippe's heels and his friends with him. The attention has moved away from Edwin at least and they're all chatting about some group meetings and their lives and an LGBT movie night Sabine and Jules are organising. Yet again, Vincent seems surprisingly normal, even if there's still the pet names and the gestures and the clothes and make-up. And those are okay, too, Edwin reminds himself. If Vincent stopped doing all those things, Edwin would doubt he was the same person.

Philippe is an engaging guide with a wealth of anecdotes. From Que Pasa, they walk to the red light district near the Scheldt. In the 19th and early 20th century, gay men would be forced to undergo brothel therapy to kick-start their "natural instincts", and brothels aplenty there were here. Edwin shudders at the thought. Yes, he loved a woman and he had sex with a woman, but it was a woman he loved and trusted, not a stranger someone else paid for. Would those men have been able to even get it up? Because it certainly didn't cure them.

"Brothel therapy used to be very popular," Philippe narrates, "and not just in Belgium. You've no doubt heard of Oscar Wilde." In 1895, the Marquess of Queensberry accused him of sodomy for having a relationship with his son, Lord Alfred Douglas. Wilde was put to trial twice and they also cited his writing, like The Picture of Dorian Gray, as evidence against him. Douglas also coined the phrase "the love that dare not speak its name" in a poem he wrote. Wilde was convicted and imprisoned for two years, but after he was released, Ernest Dowson convinced him to visit a brothel in France. Supposedly, after he left the brothel, he said it was the first time in ten years and it would be the last.

When they walk on, Edwin offers to Vincent: "I didn't know Oscar Wilde was gay."

"Really? I thought that was a well-known fact. He's a bit of a queer icon. Also a fan of Jefferson Davis and the Confederacy, so that makes me less of a fan."

"I thought you'd have read his writing."

"Nah, I'm not much of a reader, darling. Only comics and graphic novels for me. Give me all the pretty art of kissing men and not the pages of description." That surprises Edwin. Vincent knows so much and is good with words; shouldn't he need to read a lot for that?

Next on their walk are Café Hessenhuis and the disco Red & Blue, both founded by Ludo Smits, a pioneer of gay activism in Belgium. "The peak of gay night-life in Antwerp was in the eighties, but bars used to be dark and secret. We'll see those at the end of the walk. Café Hessenhuis and the Red & Blue were opened in the nineties, when gay establishments could be more out in the open en people started to prefer dignified cafés." Edwin peers through the windows of Café Hessenhuis, but they're too small to see much. At the Red & Blue, everything is still closed.

"Antwerp really had a reputation back then. Once, Ludo got a phone call that the fashion designer Jean-Paul Gaultier came to visit the Red & Blue that evening, and similar for Prince after a concert he gave. Ludo likes to tell the story that Prince was fascinated by the lights, so he instructed the light jockey to explain to Prince how they worked. Guess who was playing with the lights later in the night?" The group laughs. It seems strange to Edwin that such celebrities would hear about gay night-life in Antwerp and even visit, while anyone not in that world was unaware. He didn't know it was such a separate world, but it's no surprise. There were certainly no people openly gay in any of the places he went to.

Their route leads past a club called The Boots. There is no door on the street level, but stairs disappearing into the shadow of the overhanging floor. Iron bars and fencing are in front of all the windows. It's a fetish club where, as the name suggests, you are expected to wear boots. Only men are allowed and they have a dress code that only allows leather and other ... kinky dress.

"Something for you?" Vincent drawls. There's a glint in his eyes and he sports a teasing grin. Edwin's skin prickles as he glances at the people around him. Vincent's friends aren't listening to him and Vincent did lower his voice.

"I-," he starts and stumbles. Patrick's Grindr profile flashes through his mind, and Robert asking: "So, muscles and leather? That your thing?" and Willem replying: "Muscles and leather are everyone's type! If you're attracted to men, why would you not be attracted to the manliest of manly things?" Patrick is a good-looking guy and he likes manly men, he really does, but he's never worn leather in his life. Or whatever else they do in there. He doesn't want to think about it. Good for other people, not for him.

"I don't like all of those special things. Don't, uh, know much about it either."

"Never ended up on the dark side of the Internet? No imagination for all the depraved things people get up to? Shame."

"I'd rather not."

"Fair enough, darling. This is not my type of kink either. Though I'd love to see you blush and stammer your way through a conversation with a leather daddy." The heat in Edwin's cheeks is back, the crawling unease, but he doesn't say anything. Vincent would only tease him more. Not my type of kink ... Is Vincent into other types of kink? What even are those? He reigns his thoughts back in before they can wander too far.

They've been walking for almost an hour when they stop at Café Strange. "It's one of the oldest gay bars in Belgium that still exists," Philippe announces. "We're taking a break here for some food and drink inside, since this is still a walk to showcase Antwerp's food. Armand - the owner - will be able to tell you more about the bar. If you have never heard of him, he's an icon in the gay scene, about as much as his furniture." He points to a house on the other side of the street with "GOC" on the sign. "From the seventies to the nineties, that was the safe space for all gay people who had questions or needed support. The centre also organised popular parties. Every weekend, gay people waited full of anticipation for midnight. Around 1 am, they danced La Bamba, also known as the "kuskesdans". People formed lines across from each other and on the sign, everyone kissed the person in front of them. Most of the time, they had already picked out who they wanted to kiss before La Bamba and they arranged their dancing partner of choice. A lot of gay people found a hook-up or a partner that way, since there weren't many other ways to meet openly gay people."

Edwin stares at the old centre. Would things have been different if he'd know this existed? Would he have figured himself out earlier? Married a man? He catches Vincent looking at him from the corner of his eye and shakes his head. No point dwelling on what could have been.