After the movie night, the anxiety Edwin has been harbouring all these months whenever he interacted with Vincent hides away to bide its time and Edwin hadn't realised how fun it would be to be near Vincent without that looming presence. It turns up the simmering desire and he simultaneously hates and loves how he replaced one kind of tension with more of another kind. It demands too much space in his mind, but he wants to bask in it, too. Let yourself be attracted to men, Ellen said. Vincent suggests a shopping trip in January, after the holidays, and 2018 is still too distant to fire up his nerves.

So he and Vincent keep meeting up, for running once a week, and sometimes for LGBT movies, like today. Edwin presses the buzzer again, but there's still no reaction. It was today, wasn't it? He checks the calendar on his phone. Definitely today, and definitely 8 pm. He glances at the shop, but it's dark and both the shutters and the grate are down. Should he call?

He unlocks his phone before he can second-guess. It rings, and rings. Edwin steps back to see if there's light in the windows of Vincent's apartment. His right hand worries the inside of his coat pocket. Finally, Vincent picks up.

"Is it urgent? I don't have time for queer panic right now." Edwin almost takes a literal step back. Vincent's voice is tense, angry. Where is the joke, the flirtatious tone, the petname? Edwin had thought Vincent understood how he hurt him, but he is mocking Edwin's newness, his uncertainty, all over again.

It's not right. If Vincent wanted to make fun of him, he would provoke Edwin. He'd drawl "sweetheart" or "girl". It'd be like a caress, but all wrong. Is Vincent ... stressed?

"Are you alright?"

"Peachy, pumpkin. Is there a reason why you're calling? Like I said, I'm a little busy right now." Edwin hears stumbling and Vincent curses. "Make it short, please."

"We were going to watch a movie today. I'm downstairs at your door, but you didn't open."

"Fuck. I had forgotten that. Sorry, darling. It's not a good time. Rain check."

"Is something going on?"

"I —" There is a splashing noise. "I've got a leaky pipe in my bathroom and I'm trying to save what I can. And I really need both my hands for that, so I'll call you back tomorrow, okay?"

Edwin looks up again at the façade. If Vincent is in the bathroom, that explains why he can't see a light. "Can I help?" he asks on a whim. Vincent inhales sharply. "Have you closed off the water?"

"I'll let you in," Vincent says. "You can do that." He hangs up and a minute later, Edwin can enter. He jogs up the stairs to a closed door, but it isn't locked. As soon as he steps inside, his shoes squeak on the wet tiles of the hallway. The door to the bathroom is open and Vincent is draining a bucket in the shower. There is another bucket awkwardly blocked in the cabinets under the sink, where water is gushing from the seam between two parts of the pipes.

"Is the main valve in the kitchen?"

"How should I know?" Vincent bites out. He doesn't look up, changing the bucket under the sink for the one he just emptied.

"I'll check."

Edwin opens the cabinets under the sink and takes out the trashcan and the cardboard box with dish soap and rags. The main valve is indeed in the back and he twists it closed. When he moves to get up, he hits his head against the kitchen counter. "Shit." His hand flies to the back of his head and then his neck.

"The water stopped!" Vincent calls. He appears in the door frame of the living room. "Everything okay, darling?"

"Fine. Just hit my head. Got a stitch in my neck." He grabs the edge of the sink and pulls himself up. His knees hurt, too, from the tiles. "Are you alright? You sounded stressed."

"No kidding, girl." Vincent rolls his eyes and then grimaces. "Sorry. I'll cut them out. I don't really have a filter right now."

"Cut out what?"

"The petnames. Because they make you uncomfortable."

"I don't mind. I've gotten — I know it's just how you speak."

"Edwin! You are always full of surprises. Have I gotten you to like it?"

"I think we should clean up," Edwin says. "You'll feel better." Vincent smirks. It's a clear evasive manoeuvre, but Vincent doesn't insist. It's not that Edwin likes it. He's just ... no longer uncomfortable and he doesn't want to stifle Vincent. Vincent wouldn't be himself and Edwin has given up on not being flustered around him.

Vincent gets two mops and a floor wiper from a supply closet in the hall. Some water has crept in under the door and he curses. It's barely anything, but he starts cramming a full plastic bag on the overflowing shelves. When he sinks to his knees to check the vacuum cleaner, he curses again.

Edwin lays a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Let me. I'll clean the hallway and our footsteps. If you start on the bathroom, I'll join you when I'm done."

Vincent tenses under his hand and moves forward until it hangs by Edwin's side again. "I can't let you ..." Help, when Edwin is a guest? Move through his home as if it's Edwin's too, touching everything? Take over what he could do on his own? Edwin would understand if Vincent doesn't want to leave him alone in his home. Helping out in someone's home implies trust, closeness.

"I don't mind. I don't want to leave you with the mess or sit and wait while you work. It'll be quicker."

Vincent pushes himself up and grabs a mop. "Fine, we'll do it your way, darling. I'll do the bathroom. If you need anything, it's probably here." He swipes a hand at the closet. Edwin smiles to reassure him, but he doesn't get one back.

Cleaning the hallway is quick and easy with the floor wiper and mop. He opens the door to Vincent's bedroom to sweep over the threshold, but he tries not to look. He doesn't want to invade Vincent's space, when he's already so uncomfortable. There's a pair of crocs in the supply closet, clearly meant for cleaning, and Edwin sets his own shoes by the door, so he doesn't leave more dirty footsteps. Those turn out to be harder to clean because the floor isn't wet and the living room doesn't have tiles. He considers getting a bucket in the bathroom, but he should probably give Vincent some space.

While he's cleaning the kitchen, he tidies up some stuff on the counters too, sorts the trash. He's far surpassing what a guest might do, now. And then he no longer has a reason to stall. The bathroom is no doubt the worst off and he can't let Vincent do it on his own.

He knocks before he enters. Vincent left him the floor wiper, so he's on his knees with the mop, wringing out excess water in the bathtub. The floor is not as wet as it was earlier, but still glistening with water. The cabinets and everything in them might be ruined, everything that wasn't waterproof. There's also a bath mat that will need to be washed, a trash can and a basket with towels on the floor and the bottom part of a tall cabinet in the corner, that have been affected by the water.

"You can use the wiper," Edwin says. "I'm done."

"Thanks." Vincent grimaces. "You'll excuse me my impoliteness. You chose to be here."

"It's fine. I understand." Edwin looks between the cabinets under the sink and the floor. "Maybe you should check the stuff in those and I'll do the rest of the cleaning." Vincent's lips thin into a straight line, but he agrees. Edwin makes quick work of the mess and finds a dry basket where Vincent can put the things from under the sink. The bathroom will need a proper clean later, but right now, it only matters that everything is dry and won't dirty anything else.

When they're done, Vincent gets up and looks down at the basket still on the floor. His pants are wet and dirty, and his shirt is wrinkled and rides up unevenly on one side.

"You should call a plumber," Edwin says. "There might still be someone you can reach at this hour."

"I know," Vincent snaps. He sighs and grabs his phone from his pocket. When he mistypes his pin code, he bites off a curse and stabs every digit. Should Edwin leave him alone for a second? He could be making it worse by being here. Vincent squints at the screen, and turns away from the light. He taps something and squints again, moving the phone farther away. It's a glaring signal for an ophthalmologist, but Edwin stays silent. Maybe later. Vincent would only snap and deny right now.

The plumber can come by tomorrow. Vincent will have to manage without water until then. Edwin doesn't know how to switch off the water supply of only the bathroom, so the main valve will have to stay shut until the pipes are repaired. Vincent looks uncertain and exhausted when the call ends, avoiding Edwin's gaze and his hand with the phone hanging by his side.

"Maybe you should wash up and change. There's still water." Edwin gestures at the one bucket they didn't drain. "I'll find us some food and drinks."

"Don't —" Vincent exhales heavily and doesn't protest further. "Knock yourself out, pumpkin."

Cooking is limited without water, but Edwin finds some bread and cut meat and cheese, and he adds a few raw vegetables and fruits. He mixes a dip and brings a platter to the coffee table. Vincent appears in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a pale pink shirt. He took off his make-up and he still doesn't look put together, but he's calmer.

"You prepared all that, darling?" He sinks down on the couch. "Do you want a change of clothes? I could probably find you something that fits."

"I'm fine." If he wears Vincent's clothes, his brain might short circuit. Whether that's because they are no doubt outside his comfort zone or because they're Vincent's, remains to be seen. "Are you alright?"

Vincent looks at him long and hard and only looks away when he leans forward to grab food. "Nothing I can't handle. Thanks for the help, sweetheart. I know this is not what you signed up for."

Edwin shakes his head. "We're friends," he says. "Friends help."

Vincent stares again, until he seems to peel off all of Edwin's layers and see the attraction underneath, the mess of desire and anxiety he evokes. His gaze softens and Edwin wants to lean over and kiss him, stroke through Vincent's hair and down his back, make him smile.

"You're a good friend," Vincent says, low and serious. It's the wrong moment to think it, when Vincent has had an awful evening, but he really wants to have sex with him. And not in the way he wants to have sex with some famous guy. Not in the way he's been attracted to any other man since he came out. Passable. Something he could ignore.

He doesn't know what to reply. Thank you? This is what he does. He takes care of people, makes food for them. Vincent holds up a piece of carrot. "That dip is great. You made that?"

Edwin shrugs. "I like cooking. I cook a lot with Ellen."

"Really? I didn't peg you for the type. You should teach me, darling. I can't cook to save my life, to the despair of my mother."

"Sure." He still doesn't understand why it's Vincent of all people, and not anyone else that he desires this much. Vincent is not the first and only guy he's been attracted to. Caroline was right that he was probably attracted to Peter, physically. And by all rights, Vincent's personality should have put him off like it did with Peter, but instead it has fanned the spark into a blazing fire. It's natural that the spark died before, when he didn't even know it was there, but somehow Vincent has broken through all his habits that taught him to only ever see men as friends, to suppress and quench his desire. Maybe that's why it's Vincent: he flirts so blatantly and he never even appeared on Edwin's radar as 'just a friend', not like Robert or his other gay friends. He's known from the beginning that Vincent wasn't straight, that he was an option. Vincent never let him get comfortable, so he could only feel and feel, let it happen.

"Can I ask a question?"

"I guess I have time for your queer panic after all," Vincent answers lightly. Apologetically. "Since you helped. Go ahead, darling. You can stop asking every time."

"It's not that type of question. I just ... Do you have trouble reading on your phone? If you don't hold it far enough?"

"Where does that come from?" Vincent frowns.

"I saw, in the bathroom. And I'm an ophthalmologist. I can prescribe you reading glasses if you need them."

Vincent looks away and Edwin bites in a slice of bread. He'd like a drink, but Vincent might need to make another one of his cocktails for that, since tap water isn't an option and there's not much else. Vincent doesn't look like he's up for that. The lines in his face are pronounced and he looks closer to Edwin's age than he ever has before. Edwin abruptly realises that when Vincent is flamboyant, it's because he's happy. It's not just a shield to hide his vulnerability. Or maybe it is, but Vincent is letting him see the layers underneath. Or maybe he's too worn down to put up an act.

"I can't," Vincent says eventually. "I wouldn't be able to pay you right now. Not with the plumber."

"So pay me later. Or wait. I can book you an appointment whenever you want. If you've managed until now, it's not urgent. It's just for your comfort, for the future."

Vincent smiles at him. "Thank you, really, darling. I owe you. You keep doing things for me today and I'm paying you back by being awful company."

"You've had a stressful evening. I understand. I don't mind if you're quiet or not looking your best."

Vincent laughs. "Way to make a guy feel good about himself." Edwin's face heats up, but he doesn't say Vincent looks fine because it'll sound too much like, I want to touch you everywhere and I definitely have a crush on you. He can't ... Vincent is not ... They might be friends, Vincent might have apologised, but Edwin is not comfortable. Confident. Nowhere near the trust he'd want with a hook-up, if he ever chanced it. And a relationship ... That goes a little far for some sexual attraction. When he imagines a faceless partner, he imagines someone familiar, steady, like Ellen. With Vincent, there's always an undercurrent of tension, of anticipation. Freefall. Vincent wouldn't fit into his life, or he in Vincent's. Eventually, his crush will pass and he'll find someone else, someone more suited to him. Vincent never has to know.

"Don't act like you're insecure," he teases. "Do you still want to watch that documentary now?"