After their Disney marathon, Edwin thinks a lot about who his family would be, if he could choose. Ellen, of course. His daughters. Arno is more supportive than their parents, but he's wrapped up in his own life. If they weren't brothers, they would merely be acquaintances.

Beyond that, there's only Caroline. She's not his sister, how Edwin imagines it'd be to have a sister, but she's his oldest friend. They met when Caroline briefly dated one of Edwin's friends and their friendship persisted beyond the relationship, beyond secondary school. His other teenage friendships dissolved under the pressure of different degrees, dorms, new friendships and relationships. He made new friends at university, met Ellen. Fun friends, who only turned out to be homophobic or to like Ellen more after the divorce.

But he and Caroline travelled together, read the same epic fantasy books, nerded out about Middle Earth. His other friends were sports friends, party friends, couple friends, group friends, but Caroline was a one-on-one friend, a friend he trusted with the softer and insecure pieces of him.

They both married in the same year, one month apart. She was Ellen's friend too, by then, but she and Edwin still did things just the two of them. When Sandra was born, she became godmother. She'd never wanted children of her own, but she delighted in Edwin's joy, bought him dad mugs and took pictures when he wasn't looking. Half of his most cherished pictures of Sandra and Tamara growing up were taken by her. She leaned on him during her divorce, not Ellen, and Edwin had never been someone's first choice of emotional support before, except maybe Ellen.

Yeah, if he could pick his family, Edwin would pick her, a thousand times over.

Since his divorce, they've been calling almost every Sunday. Sundays are the hardest because everyone used to be home on them and now no one is, and Caroline gets it, how the silence makes him restless and he starts a thousand things. They've gone to Bonaparte a few Fridays, or out to dinner, or just at home, but on Sundays, Caroline often goes over to her parents to help them around the house. Her mum has been diagnosed with the early stages of Parkinson's and stresses too much about doing everything and her dad has a bad back, so Caroline cleans and does laundry and keeps the garden from turning into a true wilderness. After such a day, Edwin would also rather sit at home, so he deals with the physical emptiness where there should be someone else sitting on the couch, walking around the house, humming, talking, being present.

But today, Caroline is coming over directly from her parents to cook with him. It'll mostly be her watching and eating because she doesn't cook if she can avoid it, but cooking for someone is just as fun as cooking with someone. Doesn't hurt that Caroline is very enthusiastic about whatever he feeds her.

They chat about her parents, Tamara's job, Sandra's wedding, the book Caroline is reading, all throughout the prep work. When everything is on the stove, Edwin sits down at the table with half an eye on the pots and the other on Caroline.

She waggles her eyebrows. "So serious. Are you tired?"

"I'm fine. Just been thinking a lot."

"Always a dangerous activity with you." She doesn't say anything more, but she keeps looking at him. Edwin glances at the pots, that don't need his attention for at least another ten minutes.

"How well do you know Vincent?"

"Vincent? Well enough, I suppose. We're friends, but I mostly see him in Bonaparte. What about him?"

"I ..." Edwin relays the story of his opinions about make-up, the fight, his apology. "And now Vincent has been teaching me. About the history, and gender, and all the labels and words."

Caroline nods slowly. "Damn, Edwin. So much drama for quiet little you." She cracks a grin.

"I know. It's my own fault."

"Definitely a mess. Where did you even get the idea that men shouldn't wear make-up? You're not exactly the picture of conservatism or sexism."

"I ... Everyone? My parents? There is a consensus to blame my parents for never realising my sexuality before." If two people who don't know each other — and of whom only one knows his parents — can reach a consensus. His opinions might have been wrong, but they're not so out there, are they? It seems too easy to blame his parents.

"Solid consensus," Caroline affirms. "They are definitely the picture of Flemish conservatism, you're right."

Edwin contemplates his hands on the table, the cleanliness of his nail beds and the worn brown wool of his jumper. "Do you think I should try to dress differently?" She also told him he didn't have much style, after Vincent did, so maybe they're right, if there's two of them. "Vincent wants me to try and see if I like it. But I'm ... He can pull that off. I look like this." He gestures at his chest, his broad build. Where would he even find something that fit?

Caroline laughs. "That's not an issue. You just need to find something that's right for you, that flatters your looks. You don't need to wear what Vincent does. That man has got a whole style of his own." At least that's not just in Edwin's head, his bias. "Do you really want to wear something feminine?"

Edwin presses his lips together. He just wants Vincent to not judge him on his clothes, but he has no idea how he needs to look for that. "Maybe not feminine. Just ... more stylish. Looking better."

"Oooooh, are you ready to subject the gay men of Antwerp to your charms?"

"Caroline." Edwin wipes a hand over his face. "That's not why."

"So what, it's just for Vincent?" His face must hide nothing because she exclaims: "It is! How did that happen? You learn some things and you see him in a new light? Vincent is hot when he explains something?"

Edwin's face burns and he gets up to check on the food. "I don't even know. I didn't like him! Honestly. I didn't think I'd like a man like him. So ... flamboyant and flirty and feminine. Did you know he's transgender?"

"Sure. That's not why you didn't like him, right?"

"No no! I didn't know. He only told me last week. I didn't expect it because he's so ... I've tried not to think about it too hard because I know he's a man and the rest of it doesn't matter and I don't want to accidentally start thinking differently about him. I learned the whole gender spiel. I even researched." He'd already done some research after Marc, but Vincent's coming-out prompted him to spend several evenings reading websites and watching YouTube videos from transgender men, to understand what it's like, what it means, what kind of things Vincent must have gone through.

"So why do you like him now?" Caroline asks. "He's not gotten any less of him, last I saw."

"No, I know. It's not that I like him. Even if I understand better now why he does it. It used to make me really uncomfortable, the flirting and the pet names, but he flirts less with me now." Except Vincent got very close when he demonstrated gay subtext. It's a special kind of torture to still be on the receiving end of flirty remarks and acts, but to know that they're just part of Vincent's persona, that he's not sincerely flirting with Edwin. Maybe he should have taken that kiss and passed it off as a joke, playing along, so he'd know and it'd be over and done. "He took me to Que Pasa to see a drag show last month and I saw him dancing and I don't know, it struck me how masculine he is? And we've gone on runs together."

"On runs? Edwin, I've never seen Vincent outside Bonaparte or his charity work and the activities he organises. Are you friends?"

"I guess so, but ..."

"But what? If you're doing things together for fun and not your little teaching arrangement, I think that makes you friends. Or a couple." She pulls up an eyebrow and smirks.

Edwin shakes his head. Why are all the women in his life so invested in his love life? Always asking and teasing. "It's not like that. I don't even know if I genuinely like him as a person. You know how he is. He just ... sweeps you away while you're near him."

"I think that's just you, Ed. Sounds like a crush to me."

Edwin sighs. Caroline is like a dog with a bone, sometimes. She'll never believe anything he says to the contrary now. But he's nothing if not more bullheaded, storming down the road, no matter the use of it. "How do I say this? Vincent is ... a lot to be around. And he ... I always feel insecure around him. Like I'm going to say the wrong thing and he's going to judge me for not knowing. That I'm not gay enough, not good enough, not the kind of person he'd want to be around."

"That doesn't sound like something Vincent would want you to feel."

"You think so?" He glances away at the stove and inhales the smell of the herbs he'd put in the pot. "I asked Ellen, but she doesn't know him, so she couldn't tell if it was me or him. But she thinks I should tell him — ... He made me feel like I didn't belong, in Bonaparte. I always feel so out of place around him. Ellen thinks I should tell him and he should apologise."

Caroline mulls that over. "Telling him can't hurt. I don't know if you should expect an apology. He's not the type to apologise if he doesn't mean it."

"He apologised when I, uh, apologised."

"Really? Well, that's a good sign. I think you just feel out of place because you're comparing yourself to him. But you don't need to be like him if you don't want to. You're not really the type to handle everyone looking at you."

Edwin huffs out a laugh. "I'd rather not. You might be right. We talked about how ... He does it on purpose, being like he is. He doesn't want people to act as if they accept gay people. I don't want to hide or be afraid of trying something new or maybe I am still bigoted, but I don't want to be like him. But I don't know what the other options are."

"Why would you still be bigoted? You're not transphobic, you're not homophobic, you don't think make-up is only for women, ..."

"But it could be subconscious. Internalised. Maybe I don't want to look feminine because I secretly think it'd make me less of a man." Or that he'd look like less of a man. "I don't know how Vincent does it because he wasn't even born as a man and he's so confident in looking feminine and knowing that people will still see him as a man. He doesn't care what people think and I always care."

Caroline shakes her head and reaches out to touch his hand. "You don't need to think so hard about why you don't want to do it. If you don't want it, that's it, period."

That's a good point, but ... "What if I want it? What if I don't know I want it until I've tried? Maybe it's like canyoning." Caroline had canyoning in the Pyrenees on her bucketlist when they were in university and Edwin had been very sceptical about how safe it was, but as soon as they started, he knew he wanted to do it again. It was all the rush of hiking, climbing and rafting combined.

Caroline shrugs. "Guess you'll have to try to know then. I can't decide what you want."

Edwin laughs. "If only it were that easy. I am clearly not very good at knowing what I want, so it'd be helpful if you could tell me."

"What, are there any other fires beside your crisis of masculinity?" Edwin minutely shakes his head and busies himself with the food. "Edwin! Come on, let me hear it. How many crises has Vincent given you?"

"I've lost count. Pretty much every time I see him."

"And you still want to tell me that's not a crush?"

"I don't know. I've never had a crush."

"Really? Not even in secondary? Or that one dorm mate before you met Ellen? Peter? You were pretty blind to anyone else after that, with all your stubborn loyalty to not be attracted to anyone else."

"Peter? Definitely not." The guy was attractive, but you could only have a decent conversation with him if it was about soccer and Edwin liked a little more variety. "I know I'm attracted to Vincent. Physically. But I don't know if that means something or if he just happens to be the first available guy I'm attracted to, who flirted with me." He lets Caroline taste the sauce he made and she groans approvingly. "Maybe I need to get used to it, that I'm allowed to find men attractive. And then I'll be attracted to more people than just the first guy who infuriates me. Even if he can also be kind and quiet."

"Quiet? When's Vincent ever quiet?"

"He told me, that he likes quiet and alone time."

"That's the first I hear of that. I think that means he likes you too." Caroline grins wide, triumphant.

"No, definitely not. Not like that. I'm not his type. He tolerates me, but it's just to teach me."

"And how many times have you met up now when it wasn't to teach? Not like it's only teaching going on. You're definitely his type. I know his hook-ups and what his previous partner looked like. He likes them a little sporty, strong."

Vincent did flirt with him when they first met, but Edwin thought that was just to mess with him, part of Vincent's provocation. He has toned it down since then, since Edwin's apology. He hasn't stopped, but it's teasing, a joke that Edwin is now in on. "That's physically. He is teaching me all these things that are basic for his friend group. I'm still making up for my wrong opinions. I still have wrong opinions."

Caroline purses her lips. "Fair enough. That might change things."

"Even if he was attracted to me, I don't know if I would want to do anything about it."

"Why not? It's not a stranger, he's experienced, he'd show you a good time, he knows your background and he wouldn't be an asshole during or afterwards. Is it because of that whole "he makes me feel not gay enough"? I bet that's solved as soon as you tell him."

"Maybe. I never know how I feel about him."

"But does that matter? It's not a relationship." Edwin pulls a face and turns off the stove. "Or do you want a relationship?"

"I'm not the hook-up type. I know you do it, and a lot of gay men, but it just ... The idea makes me uncomfortable."

"You want the security of a relationship."

Edwin shrugs and puts the pots on the table. He doesn't know why the idea of a one-night-stand, even with someone he knows, is so uncomfortable to him. Maybe that's also an internalised idea from his parents, that sex is for marriage and if not marriage, at least a steady relationship. He doesn't judge Caroline or Vincent or Patrick, though. It's fine for them, but not for him.

Like the femininity. Fine for Vincent, not for him.

***

Edwin catches Leo when they're leaving the café. It's late, and he'll feel it tomorrow when he has to get up for work, but there are few opportunities for a private conversation.

"Do you have a moment?"

Leo looks surprised, but they move to the side, so everyone else can leave. "Sure."

"It's a bit of a personal question."

Leo glances around, but nobody is paying attention to them. "Ask away."

"You've worn make-up, right? How did you ... not care about what people would think?"

"That's what you want to ask? I was already worried you wanted to ask me out." Leo's eyes crinkle and he puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

"Oh. No. Sorry."

"No no, I'm relieved! Letting someone down that you still need to interact with is always hard." Edwin nods. That would definitely have been more awkward than his question about make-up. "Do you want to wear make-up? Or where is this question coming from?"

Edwin hesitates. How much does he want to explain? Leo is kind, but everything is a mess. "I know someone who is very flamboyant and he wears make-up, and feminine clothes. And he's been making me question if I should try it, even if I don't think I'll like it. But I'm not as confident as him. I don't want to — I can't stop thinking what other people would think. Even if I just did it at home and no one would see."

"So you want to try if that guy is right, but you're self-conscious? Afraid?"

Edwin shrugs. "All of that."

Leo nods and hunches against the wind that's blowing a strand of hair in his eyes. "That's hard. I don't even know how I stopped caring."

"But you cared, when you were younger?" Edwin's eagerness to not be alone in this bleeds into his tone. "I thought you might understand better than that other guy because he's so ... It's hard to imagine he ever cared about anyone's opinions about how to live his life. But I've never been like that."

"I don't know how much I can help. It's just an internal click you need to make. Some people stop caring because it's too exhausting to care. It's ... I think you need to ask yourself why you care. Why other people's opinion matters."

Why other people's opinion matters. Because ... Why does he care so much? There must be a reason, a good reason, even if he can't think of anything now. Not wanting to deal with the negative reactions? Vincent said it was less effort for him to deal with the homophobia than to hide himself. But if he had to choose, Edwin would rather have the anxiety of the closet. Or not? He did choose to come out, but that's his identity. He doesn't care so much about how he looks. He only cares how he looks when it would disrupt the norm.

"Thank you. I think that helps."

"Of course. Let me know how it goes. And if it impresses the guy." Leo winks.

"What? Why?"

"Is this not a guy you want to impress?"

Edwin sighs and turns to look down the street. "Everyone sure seems to think so. But I'm ... I didn't think I was attracted to feminine men, you know. I was with a woman for most of my life and I finally realised I'm gay, so I thought I'd like masculine men. Not that he isn't masculine as well. Under the femininity."

Leo laughs and makes an aborted sweeping gesture with his arm, hand still firmly in his pocket. "And there you have it! I like femininity in men, but they're still men. I don't know how our brain does it, but it's totally different. Well, except for me because that's where my bi confusion comes from. But it's natural that it's totally different for you."

"He's also, uh, transgender."

"He's trans? My best friend is trans. Ironically, I never had a crush on her, even though she was totally my type before she came out. Maybe I should take that as a sign." Leo chuckles.

"You know someone who is trans? Besides Marc." If Marc even counts, because he was born as a man and still looks like one. On the other hand, he isn't a man, so that would make him transgender, not cisgender. "I'm ... I know he's a man, but sometimes I'm ... It took me so long to realise I'm not attracted to women and what if I decide to ... do something with him and I'm not attracted to him?"

"As long as you're not repulsed by people's bodies and you're attracted to him now, I think you'll be fine. Kyra has a relationship with a very nice lesbian and she hasn't had bottom surgery. And doesn't intend to because surgeries scare her. And that works."

"That's nice." He didn't know that was possible. This is all so complex.

"What are you guys still doing here? I thought everyone had gone home." Guido closes the door of the café, shutting in the brief flash of light and noise.

"I thought you had gone home," Edwin says stupidly.

"I was talking to the bartender. What were you still talking about? Any interesting gossip?"

Leo clasps Edwin's shoulder. "You should give Edwin a make-up tutorial. You're better at it than me."

"Am I?" Guido turns to Edwin. "Is this for yourself or to do for someone else?"

Edwin shakes his head. "I don't even know if I want to try it. I've always followed the norms, you know? Maybe I should do clothes first. That seems easier."

Guido holds his hands up. "If you want a shopping buddy, it's not gonna be me, sorry."

Leo laughs. "Me neither. Maybe you can ask your guy."

"He's not my guy," Edwin says, but Guido speaks over him: "It's about a guy?"

"Yeah," Leo replies. "Hey, you've been with trans men, right? Maybe you and Edwin should have a talk because Edwin is a little worried."