Sabine and Jules organise a local LGBT movie night in December. Vincent told him there was also an LGBT movie festival in Leuven in November, but the dates didn't fit into his schedule. This movie night is just in an upstairs room of a community centre, with a beamer and a white screen, and folding chairs that have clearly seen a lot of use.

Edwin finds Vincent standing on a table to solve a problem with the beamer. His sweater and shirt have ridden up and Edwin can see his bellybutton, before he turns away his gaze. Vincent has made him a prude, when he never used to bat an eye at men walking around half-naked on the beach or at the swimming pool.

"Can I help?"

Vincent looks down. "If you can fix the beamer, go for it, darling." He jumps from the table instead of using the chair, and leans on Edwin's shoulder for balance.

Edwin does fix the beamer. "Thanks, sweetheart!" Vincent blows him a kiss. Edwin's cheeks burn, but it's almost a constant when he's around Vincent. At least he's coming in from the cold, so that'll hide his blush. It's just Vincent's usual demeanour, he reminds himself. Not a sign Vincent is attracted to him.

Vincent leaves the rest of the start-up to Sabine and Jules, so they pick their seats while other people filter in. Edwin struggles to get comfortable on the hard plastic and keeps shifting.

"Should have brought pillows," Vincent says. "I suggested we'd just throw a bunch of blankets and pillows on the ground, keep it cosy and seasonal, but I was told that wouldn't be accessible for older or disabled people." His mouth curls up. "So if you can't sit still, I can only offer my lap, darling."

"No thanks," Edwin replies while he looks straight ahead. Vincent is only joking. Caroline is wrong. "You wouldn't see anything."

"If that's your only objection, you don't need to worry." Vincent laughs. "The real queer movie experience is to cuddle up close and pine away for your straight best friend. I've already seen everything anyway."

"You know what we're watching?"

"I have an in with the organisers, sweetheart. Of course I do. I always know everything."

"And you know it," Edwin says, but it sounds more reproachful than teasing.

Vincent pulls back his face. "Something wrong?"

"No," Edwin replies automatically. "Well, not wrong. This is maybe not the moment." He shoots a meaningful look around the room, where people are chatting, hugging, laughing. The seats next to them are still empty, but it won't be long.

Vincent checks his watch, the one he personally customised. Edwin knows it's easily the most expensive thing he wears. "You've got fifteen minutes, sugar. You want to throw it out or sit with it until after the movie?"

"I don't think fifteen minutes will be enough."

"That serious? Now you got me curious. Are you breaking up with me?" Vincent clutches his heart. Edwin shakes his head and smiles, but it's half-hearted. "Alright, then you've got ten minutes to forget because I need you to pay attention and enjoy."

At that, Edwin chuckles more genuinely. "It's not going to be another Disney marathon with quiz, is it?"

"You're safe this time, friend of Dorothy! I will only test your enjoyment."

Edwin lets out an inelegant noise of laughter and relaxes. "Will you make me sing Somewhere over the rainbow? Or your anthem?"

"Who knows. But I think I'll save that for karaoke at Bonaparte."

Somehow, with a few jokes, Vincent has turned Edwin's mood back to what it was when he entered. Vincent's humour can be edgy, flirty and over the top, but something has clicked since September and now his jokes hit a sweet spot inside Edwin more often than not. There's a rush in knowing how to interpret and navigate Vincent's performance, in turning into it and letting it flow over him, to flush him clean.

Vincent waves at a few people and Edwin smiles awkwardly at all the unknown faces. He'd much rather watch movies with Vincent at home because Vincent is softer there and he doesn't imagine the constant scrutiny of the crowd, who all know Vincent and he knows them. Spending time with Vincent alone is its own torture, because it's so intimate, but it feels impossible to make friends here, to ever be more than Vincent's friend. He doesn't want a repeat of only being Ellen's husband.

"Hey Edwin, nice to see you again!" a voice says next to him. Edwin turns and looks up at Roos.

"I don't get a greeting?" Vincent exclaims.

"No, you might as well be part of the décor. I'd much rather talk to Edwin." Roos sits down. She's wearing glasses tonight, and a long blue skirt. "How are you doing? Not tired of Vincent yet?"

"Uh." Edwin glances at Vincent, who has the look of someone who knows that whatever the answer is, he'll come out the best. "I'm doing well. Vincent is still, uh, educating me on things."

Roos laughs. "Does he want you to get a PhD in Queer Studies or what? Never leaves his inner activist at home, that man."

"Lies, darling, lies and slander! Showing Edwin the best of queer culture is just a little bit of fun." Edwin's face heats up and he doesn't know what to say. If you're doing things together for fun and not your little teaching arrangement, I think that makes you friends. Or a couple.

The door closes and the conversation hushes as Sabine steps up. The final crowd is a few dozen people, and with everyone sitting down close together, the white walls of the room feel much less harsh. Behind Edwin, a few people giggle and shush each other and it reminds him of Sandra and Tamara, arguing and laughing when the movie was about to start.

Sabine does a short introduction, welcoming new and old people. The movie night is now up to its sixth edition and one of their most popular activities. It's just some fun, just watching movies, having a drink and eating snacks. No documentaries or analysis, because they do a separate activity for that. Vincent pulls a face as if he hates that and Edwin fights to keep in his smile.

Under applause, Sabine sits down and the first movie starts. Pride centres a group of gay and lesbian activists who support a miners' strike. Edwin glances at Vincent. Despite their arrangement, Vincent doesn't talk much about his activism, how he became an activist. Is just the constant rejection by society enough to make you an activist? What does Vincent even do? The activists in the movie raise money for the miners, but they also debate whether they should even offer help, when the miners have mistreated them in the past.

Edwin gets it. He wouldn't offer help to people who have only shown him contempt. If any of his old basketball friends turned up to his door, he would send them away. Where were they when he needed support? And yet, some miners, some women, support the gay and lesbian activists. Is it because they get something in exchange? Still. Other miners and women reject the money because they don't want to be associated with gay people. It's stupid to not at least be practical about things. Even if you disagree with other things, you can work towards a shared goal. Edwin will never understand those hardcore homophobes. It's one thing to have your opinions, and another thing to act on it to your own detriment. Like refusing to make wedding cakes for gay couples. They're literally losing business.

But the activists. Why do they subject themselves to the harassment? Gethin had refused to participate because he knew how bad it could be, but he changes his mind and is beaten for it. Why would he do that? Why don't they give up after the first pushback? You can't help people who don't want to be helped. Surely that's true for activism, too. This activism seems more stubbornness against the odds, disagreements. Is that what activism is like?

The movie ends with a triumphant Pride Parade, but it seems ... utopian, that miners and gay and lesbian activists would come together like that. And yet, the miners vote for gay rights, Jonathan lives despite the odds and Mark dies young. It hollows out the happiness of the ending, but it makes it real too. If Edwin knew he wouldn't live long, maybe he'd stand up for people who rejected him, too, because if he couldn't fight the illness, he could at least improve someone else's life.

After the movie, there's a twenty minute break and everyone moves en masse to the bathroom.

"Is this based on real events?" Edwin asks Vincent.

"Yeah, fictionalised, but a lot of those characters were real people."

"So there were actual gay activists who supported the miners, even though those didn't want their help?"

"That's one way to put it, honey. Sometimes the help needs to come first before people realise it's good for them. They're not forcing the miners to do anything."

"And not all the miners refused help," Roos says. "They wouldn't have known it was an option if the activists didn't offer it first. People don't realise that things could be better, that help is available, all the time." Edwin nods. He is like that all the time. Doesn't realise he's not happy where he is until something jolts him out of his steady strut down the road.

"Is real activism like that?"

Vincent laughs and squeezes Edwin's bicep. "I guess you'll have to come with me and see for yourself. Best way to learn."

"And I could ... help? I don't need to know things?"

"You're not going to give a presentation, pumpkin. I do that sometimes, but I like to hear myself talk. It's the least useful thing I do. If you don't have plans on Christmas Eve, I could use another volunteer." He points at Roos. "That goes for you too."

"You know I would if I could. But if I don't want my parents to change their mind and reject me, I need to be home." Her tone is light and Vincent laughs, so Edwin joins in. He still doesn't understand why people joke about these serious things, or when they're actually serious.

"If I'm not going to my parents' house, I could help," Edwin says. He hadn't considered not going, but he could. His parents definitely would judge him even more, but would it even matter? He wouldn't feel welcome if he went. Ellen is spending Christmas Eve with friends and he hasn't heard yet what Sandra and Tamara are planning. Christmas is their day as a family, but Christmas Eve ...

Vincent picks up on his tone because he asks: "Are you sure? You can think about it and let me know.

"I'm sure," Edwin says, even though he isn't. He doesn't want to stop talking to his parents at all. He wants them to offer him the warmth of growing up, safe in his ignorance of the magma under his surface that would inevitably bubble up and cause a rift. The fault line. There are only two events in his life that have a clear 'before' and 'after'. The first was becoming a father, but the second was his coming-out. First the cracks of admitting it to himself, then seeing the gap widen when he told Ellen, when he told his children. He's lucky Ellen and his daughters are like him, that they can come to appreciate the beauty of a raw landscape. It's not an abyss, it's just going down the canyon as he has done so many times, accepting and learning to enjoy the road he hadn't planned.

But his parents ... That fault line is ugly. Painful. A wound that might never heal, but he wants it to. He doesn't wish he wasn't gay, that he hadn't changed, but he wishes nothing had changed in the way they look at him, the way they treat him. It's tempting to smooth it over sometimes. Vincent is capable of always pushing back, but Edwin doesn't know how to live with that tension. He goes downstream, not upstream.

They return to their seats for the second movie. Edwin immediately recognises the opening scene of Moonlight. He leans over to Vincent and whispers: "I've seen this movie."

"You have?" Vincent whispers back, and Edwin wasn't prepared for that, for Vincent's breath, his voice so close, darker and warmer and sexier. Why is this turning him on?

"It's ..." Edwin glances at the screen, the people around them, because he doesn't want to disturb anyone. "It made it click for me. That I was gay. Let's watch now." Vincent nods and squeezes Edwin's thigh. His hand doesn't stay, but the phantom warmth does. Edwin wants to take Vincent's hand, put it back on his thigh. Or even hold it. That'd be romantic, but it's not about romance. He wants to know how Vincent's hand feels, explore the space between his fingers, the texture of his skin. He has nail polish on today, a bright blue with a pink star on each nail. It seems complicated. Ellen or Sandra only ever did a single colour.

Maybe he could ask Vincent to paint his toenails. It's not so scary as make-up, not visible, but he'd know. Then he thinks about Vincent holding his foot and painting each nail and that's ... It twists up inside him and he doesn't know if he wants it or if it's too much, too intimate. He doesn't know if he can sit there, with all this attraction bundled up inside and still keep it in.

A shudder runs through him. He can barely keep a lid on it now. What would he do if he sat face to face with Vincent, for the long minutes where Vincent would paint his nails? He doesn't have a foot fetish, but you don't let just anyone hold your feet. A foot is ticklish, both soft and hard, not beautiful. Vincent's warm hands would be on his skin, more than a fleeting touch. Vincent could look up at him through his eyelashes, an unintentional seduction, but he'd be aware of it and it'd become an ironic flirtation, designed to fluster Edwin.

He tries to enjoy the movie because it's good enough to warrant a second watch, but his head is filled with Vincent, desire mingling with nerves. He's going to ask Vincent to apologise, properly. He will stand up for himself and they will clear the air. He won't let Vincent distract him with a joke. Vincent's previous apology was too quick, too casual. They didn't know each other yet. He wants to know that Vincent, this Vincent who can be kind and funny, understands why he still carries this hurt and tension.

Turning it over and over in his mind, a knot of anxiety is building in his stomach. It's not much better than daydreaming about his attraction to Vincent, but he'll take it.

Vincent stretches when the movie ends and a hand lands on Edwin's shoulder as he stands up. "Let's get our drinks and you can tell me how the movie was for you now, without the gay panic." His eyes twinkle and Edwin shrugs. Gay panic. He hasn't heard that before, but he was definitely panicking, almost a year ago. At the same time, there had been a calm acceptance. The realisation was so immediate and complete that he could never deny it. It must have been building up before, the subconscious knowledge that he liked men, but in the moment, it felt sudden.

"Less panic." Only anxiety. "Still good. I enjoyed it the first time, too." Vincent and Roos laugh.

They get their drinks and migrate to their own bubble in the room. Roos leaves soon, to talk to Sabine and Jules and this is Edwin's moment.

"So," he starts, hardening up around the sense of insecurity that Vincent has given him.

"So," Vincent repeats. "Do tell what you couldn't say in fifteen minutes because I am suffering here, sweetheart." No, you're not, Edwin thinks. Can Vincent never be serious, never stop exaggerating?

"I ... Well, you ... I want you to apologise for making me feel not gay enough. In Bonaparte, the first times we met."

Vincent blinks. "I didn't expect that. What did I do then?" He doesn't even remember. Never realised the impact of his words. That somehow amplifies the hurt.

"You assumed I must be straight, that I could never be gay. You told me I looked straight. You ..." He shakes his head. How can he even sum up what Vincent said, how it made him feel? "Just all these assumptions. You made fun of me for not being like you. But it's not funny if I'm not in on it."

"That's it? I need to apologise for some jokes when I didn't know you? Didn't I do that already? I wasn't trying to insult you, not before you started insulting me."

Edwin crosses his arms. "You're doing it again. You're dismissing me because I must be wrong and you must be right, because you know everything and I'm new. But you told me it's never just a joke. I know I judged you on your looks, but you did the exact same thing and if you can't admit it, you're a fucking hypocrite." He spits out the last words and it gives him a vicious satisfaction when Vincent takes a small step back. Let him be uncomfortable. Let him know what it's like to be in the wrong.

Vincent stays silent for several long seconds, until Edwin has the urge to continue talking about all the ways Vincent has made him feel bad and anxious, and when he speaks, his tone is low and serious. Edwin doesn't think he has ever heard Vincent talk like that.

"You're right. I still ... If I hurt you, I shouldn't dismiss that. I'm sorry. I know I never meant to doubt your sexuality or wanted you to feel unwelcome, but if I made you feel like that, I did something wrong." He looks up and holds Edwin's gaze and Edwin doesn't know what to do now that he has the acknowledgement, the apology.

"I always feel stupid around you for not knowing things," he says. It's a more vulnerable confession than he intended. "That I should have known earlier that I was gay and that I should know all these things and that I should be more like you. Confident."

Vincent snorts. "Well, can't deny that I am more confident than you, can you? Give it some time. I wasn't born confident. Well," he amends, "I have always been confident, but I also grew into my identities and expression. I also had to figure out what I liked, who I wanted to be, learn the history."

"So don't judge me for not knowing," Edwin says and his discomfort morphs into a harsher tone than he intended.

"I'll do my best," Vincent promises. "Not to make excuses or anything, but maybe I can explain. Because I know now that you are genuine and well-intentioned, but I've had to deal with a lot of bigots in my life and unfortunately, a lot of them looked like you and said very similar things. Some of them were gay or queer, but a lot of them were straight. And I already do enough educating in my life, so sometimes I assume it's a lost cause because trying requires more energy."

"But you shouldn't assume before I've even done or said anything bad!" Bad experiences are no excuse. "I might have confirmed your fears, but literally the first thing you said to me was if I was lost. That I must have come with my one gay friend. And I told you I was gay, and when you learned about Ellen and that I had children, you were back to assuming. I could have been bisexual."

Vincent stares at him and then he bursts out laughing and hides his face behind his hands. "Sorry. Not laughing at you. Promise, darling. How the tables have turned! Student teaching the master."

Edwin starts chuckling too, despite the knot still in his stomach. He is lecturing Vincent, isn't he? "I learned from the best."

Vincent shakes his head with mirth. "You are one special, special man. You deserve the non-existent badge of gayness that I don't have any authority over."

Edwin sobers up. "You made it feel like you did. I know I don't like fashion or leather and I don't look as good as you do and I don't have your confidence, but I think it's homophobic to say I look straight. It's not better than me saying you look gay."

"But I do look gay. That's just not a bad thing." Vincent waggles his eyebrows. "But you're right. I assume I can't claim now this was all a deliberate test to see if you've really listened to me and learned something? You'd have passed with flying colours. Even picked up on the bi erasure. Guess this was a good illustration of why that whole confrontation with your biases is a life-long process and nobody is above it." He rolls his eyes.

"I know I'm not suddenly ... I'm always afraid to make another mistake." And that you'll be angry and judge me. "I don't want to insult you."

"If I feel insulted, I'll definitely tell you." As if Vincent ever wouldn't stand up for himself. "And then you apologise and learn and I forgive you. I can be very magnanimous. Occasionally. If I like you enough. I'm also very good at holding grudges."

"Is that a joke?" Edwin asks. "Because I ... Sometimes I don't know if I insulted you or if you're joking. Teasing."

"Everything is a joke, don't you know?" Vincent puts his hand over his heart.

"But it's not. You're ... It was a 'joke' that I look straight, but it wasn't funny for me. You didn't know then that I had only just come out, but nobody wants to hear he looks straight when he's spent his whole life thinking he's straight and is going out for the first time as a gay man."

Vincent frowns. "It sounds so much worse when you say it like that. I'm sorry. Genuinely."

Edwin nods because he can't thank Vincent, can he? He doesn't want to thank Vincent. "It bothered me a lot." Maybe even more than he realised before this apology. "When I thought I was straight, I knew I wasn't like the other guys. That I should act a certain way. Say certain things. And then I knew it was because I was gay and I still didn't belong. I still should be different. Into leather, or make-up, or how I behave. Visibly gay."

"Oh Edwin," Vincent says, and there are lines in his face, a mask of sadness. "Can I hug you?" He moves in and Edwin accepts the embrace before he can overthink it. The last person he hugged must have been Ellen, or one of his daughters. This feels very different. Even in this serious conversation, when it's meant as comfort, an apology, he's acutely aware of his body, Vincent's body, that he wants this and doesn't want to let go, even if he barely dares to touch Vincent's back.

Vincent takes a step back. "This is now going to sound like a prime example of 'do as I say, not as I do', but the whole point of me being as visibly gay as I am is that I'm living life as my fullest self. So whatever your fullest self looks like, that's how you should live your life. If you're gay, everything you are and do is automatically gay. And as far as gay stereotypes go, you do have some very close female friends, don't you?"

Edwin laughs and the knot has already faded, somewhere in the past minutes. "I hadn't even thought of that. That's true." Those female friendships have always been part of him. He will gladly claim that stereotype. And maybe ... He hesitates. Should he say this now? "You've made me think. If maybe I should try out how it feels to look different. But I don't know where to start."

A slow smile spreads over Vincent's face. "Is this you asking for help? Because I would be delighted."