The charity event Vincent organises on Christmas Eve is not for gay people or trans people, like Edwin assumed. Well, not just. Vincent explained that it's for everyone who doesn't have anywhere else to go, but they do put in an effort to invite poor LGBT people, through advertising and whisper networks of LGBT people and prostitutes and doctors and street workers. They also pasted a paper version of the rainbow flag and the transgender flag onto a window on the street side and another next to the door — small enough that it's not glaring, but large enough that the people who need that reassurance will notice. If you're marginalised, you look for those signs, Vincent says.

The event takes place in the cafeteria of a school, which faces the street, but Edwin needs to go through the gate and cross the schoolyard to find the entrance. People are setting plates on the long tables and decorating the walls in a winter theme. Someone has put on bigband music through a speaker and one of the wall decorators twirls with a long red ribbon trailing through the air around her.

Finally, Edwin spots Vincent, who is talking — giving instructions — to the people around him, pointing and gesturing. He waves at Edwin. "Kitchen's over there!" Well, that's as clear a sign as any that Vincent is too busy to cater to Edwin's needs. He can introduce himself to a bunch of strangers.

The school has a decently large industrial kitchen. There are instructions and pictures of students on the wall, smiling with their teachers and classmates or cooking for a class. Several volunteers are setting up stations. Edwin knocks on the doorframe. "Hello."

The people near him look up and a short and stout guy wearing an apron with pink hearts exclaims brightly: "Hi! You're new! I'm Brent." His voice cracks on his name, as if he's in puberty.

"Edwin. I'm — Vincent asked me."

"Oh, you're Vincent's friend! Great! I hope you brought an apron because we have so much work and only a few hours."

Brent introduces him to all the kitchen volunteers, explaining what everyone's task is and what Edwin will be doing. They're presenting a 3-course meal, with soup, a main dish and dessert, with a vegetarian — vegan? — option for those who want it. Edwin gets his own station next to an elderly white woman who definitely has at least a decade even on him. They're the two oldest people in the kitchen, he guesses. Everyone else is more Vincent's age, or even younger. The event might not be only for LGBT people, but he suspects all the organisers and volunteers are some form of gay or transgender. Figures.

The woman's name is Annick. Edwin's other neighbour is a young Japanese guy named Tatsuo and on the other side of the kitchen isle, only one station has been filled with someone called Mona, who has a top knot and smoky eyes.

"I use xe/xem pronouns," xe says, pointing at the name tag pinned on xir apron. Edwin nods and smiles at xem, silent. At least he won't need to use those pronouns when directly addressing Mona because xe/xem seems even more confusing than they/them, even if he knew people had invented their own pronouns.

The four of them are responsible for roasting the seasoned turkey in the ovens. Edwin also has a large pot for making sauce and Annick and Mona will be making a vegetarian alternative for the turkey. Tatsuo is cooking potatoes in several enormous pots.

"The hardest part is keeping everything warm," he says. "We can't wait until the guests are here, but there are only so many burners."

They chat while cooking and Edwin relaxes. They're nice people. Fun. It doesn't feel like other times he's been surrounded by Vincent's friends, because Vincent is outside and they like him just for him. They like cooking, and Mona promises him a recipe for falafel in exchange for Edwin's broccoli soup.

"Edwin! I didn't know you were going to be here!" a voice calls and Edwin knows before he turns that it's Kim. They wrap him in their arms and kiss both cheeks. "Merry Christmas. Did Vincent rope you into this?"

Edwin laughs. "He asked and I volunteered." If Vincent asked, he would volunteer for a lot of things, just to earn more of his respect, his goodwill and affection. "I take it you are in the same boat?"

Kim nods and draws a young girl in front of them. "This is Anna, my daughter. My husband is ... somewhere."

Edwin crouches. "Hi, Anna. I'm Edwin. I'm Vincent's friend." He holds out his hand and she shakes it shyly, turning her face into Kim's leg.

"Hi," she says.

"Are you two also going to help with the cooking?" Edwin glances up at Kim.

"Maybe," Anna says. "I brought drawing." She holds up a colouring book and a plastic bag of pencils.

"Oooh, you are well prepared! So you're on the decorating team?" Anna shrugs. "I think you're going to be amazing."

Anna nods and Edwin straightens to stir his sauce. Wouldn't do to let it burn and waste two litres of it. Kim installs Anna at a low table in a corner and picks the station in front of Edwin. They gently elbow Mona.

"Are we the gender outlaw team again?"

"Of course." Mona laughs. "No binaries in our cooking."

They go back to chatting and even with Kim there, Edwin doesn't feel like an intruder in Vincent's space. These people could be his friends. Friends like Patrick and Robert and Leo, except these people are visibly ... different than straight people.

"So you're one of Vincent's minions?" Annick asks. "Are you trans, too?"

"What? No! I don't mean ... It's not a bad thing. But I'm not. Why would I be?"

"Vincent has a soft spot for taking trans people under his wing," Kim says. "Especially trans men." They nod at Tatsuo. "Tatsuo is one of them."

Tatsuo shrugs. "We're not friends or anything. But he helped me out, gave me some advice. So now I pay it forward. Isn't that what most of us are doing here?"

Annick nods. "You're right. Even I'm here because my mentors were here before me. Vincent is here because he's paying forward what I did for him."

"So you were his ... teacher?" Edwin asks.

"Mostly Violetta, but yes. I've been doing this for a long, long time. I've known Vincent almost as long as Kim has. He's like ... my nephew. I've seen him grow up from a rebellious teenager into, well, a rebellious adult. But he has a better purpose now than pissing off his parents."

Edwin thinks of the story Sumaya told two days ago. "He did that a lot, I take it?"

"Oh, you don't know the half of it." She points at Kim. "And that one there wasn't much better, but they have calmed down a lot more than Vincent has. Vincent doesn't know how to stop fighting because he thinks the world will burn if he leaves it to other people for a second."

A hand lands on Edwin's shoulder. "Are you gossiping instead of cooking? Tsk, I would have expected better from you, darling." For a second, Edwin thinks Vincent is talking to him and his heart sinks, but he's looking at Annick.

"Just about our misspent youth," Kim says. "That you're basically still a rebellious teenager, except in activist form."

"You too, ruler of my heart? Ah, you wound me. I do very serious work." He flutters his eyelashes at Edwin. "You believe me, right?" Edwin can only nod, his heart in his throat. It's so much worse to be subjected to Vincent's flirting, now that he's aware of his own feelings, how much he wants Vincent to mean it, to trust Edwin to be on his side. He wants to be special to Vincent, to be a pair for more than a joke.

"You do great work," Annick says. "Come here. I've barely seen you, busy bee that you are. Everything is going to run smoothly." She stands on her tiptoes to hug him. When they release each other, she steps back to her station and shoos him off. "Go bother someone else. We can take care of ourselves."

"Go sit with Anna," Kim says.

Vincent laughs. "You don't even need to ask, darling."

Edwin looks after him as he sits down on a child-sized chair and grabs a pencil. Anna laughs up at him. The way his heart squeezes, it could have been Sandra or Tamara with Ellen.

Kim sees him looking. "He's great with children, isn't he? He's the fun uncle. At least he also cleans up the paint when he and Anna have gleefully ruined my kitchen table." They grin while they say it.

"I didn't expect him to be so good with children. I guess children like someone who's not afraid to be silly, to dress up and look like whatever he wants."

"They really do," Kim agrees and Edwin recounts the time Sandra's princess dress ripped because Tamara had tied it around her waist like a skirt while running around in a cowboy hat and it caught on a branch. Tatsuo doesn't have children yet, but he wants to. He's starting up ivf with his wife soon. Edwin takes out his phone to show pictures, to mention that Sandra will be marrying in June, that Tamara's volleyball team is doing very well in the national competition. He can't hide his pride.

It's fully dark when the first guests arrive. Edwin can hear Vincent's voice, without understanding the words.

"Can I ask why this is not an LGBT event?" he inquires. "Because everyone here is, right?"

"Would you refuse people a meal because they aren't gay?" Tatsuo asks.

"No." Of course not. That would be little different from refusing people a meal because they are gay.

"There's your answer." Tatsuo leans against the counter. "We don't want to exclude anyone, not for this. People aren't just queer. They're always a lot of things, and different people have different needs. Some queer people don't need this, and some straight people do. Not as if you can know who is and isn't queer either. So we just try to help everyone we can, and we try extra hard to find the people who think we wouldn't want to help them, because they are queer or don't have legal documents or don't speak Dutch. And sometimes they're all of those things."

Edwin feels a little stupid again because of course you can't separate those things. Vincent himself is gay and transgender and Bangladeshi, and Tatsuo is transgender and straight — bi? — and Japanese. So many of Vincent's friends and acquaintances are more than one thing.

"What if there are homophobic people?"

"Then we ask them kindly to still treat people with respect, or we move them to another table," Annick replies. "We've never had any real problems."

Edwin smiles. "That's great." The smile even feels sincere on his face. The anxiety has faded as fast as it reared its head. It's okay to ask questions. These people can be his friends. He wants them to be his friends.

After that, there's much less time to talk because they're heating up food and bringing it out in smaller pots and bowls and platters as fast as they can. Edwin passes Vincent, who squeezes his bicep and winks at him. There are so many different people in the cafeteria, from small babies to 80-year-olds. Families and people who came alone. White, Black, Middle-Eastern, East-Asian, Indian, he doesn't even know. The chatter booms and Vincent uses a microphone to give a very short speech about the menu and how every table can serve themselves and they can ask for more.

Edwin feels full when he sees people eating, laughing. He soaks it up, as if it is the first sunny day after winter, when everything seems brighter.

"It's a great feeling, isn't it?" Mona says to him. "We can always use more volunteers."

"I might," Edwin says. "I hadn't realised ..."

"You should ask Vincent about it. He'll know where you can help, but tell him I want you with me on the library program. Books for disadvantaged children and teens." Xir eyes twinkle.

Edwin laughs. "I'll tell him."

Finally, when people are enjoying their dessert and the dishes are stacked high everywhere, waiting for the dishwasher, the kitchen crew gets a chance to eat. They're all high on exhaustion and satisfaction and everything is funny. Edwin feels warm, squeezed between Kim and Annick. Kim's husband Carl and Anna are on Kim's other side and Anna has fuzzy headphones on, her head in her dad's lap. It feels like Christmas, and he wishes he hadn't told his parents he would visit for a few hours. He just ... couldn't bring himself to refuse, to have that argument, to tell them why. They think he went to a friend's party. Not a lie, because he is surrounded by friends, but a friend's party can't be as important as visiting his parents on Christmas Eve. Bad enough he's not coming over for Christmas, as they remind him every year. It's easier not to remind them that he's gay now, that he has gay friends; he will take the anxiety of ignorance about his community over the anxiety of leaving part of himself unspoken, taken off at the door like a coat. He wants to be here, where he feels welcome.

There are games and presents now for the children — mostly sweets, some socks and pencils and a few fancy ribbons — but those volunteers ate earlier. He doesn't know when Vincent will eat. Should he make him a plate? Kim agrees, and he finds Vincent sitting on a bench against the wall with a sullen teen boy. Vincent shows him something on his phone and the boy nods, not looking away from the screen. Vincent offers him the fabric of his shirt — a long-sleeved blouse with a flower pattern — and the boy touches it with the tips of his fingers, no longer than a second. He looks up at Vincent and Edwin realises it's longing on his face, longing to wear something like that instead of the sweatpants and oversized hoodie.

Vincent notices him standing at a polite distance and beckons him over. "This is Kamil," he says. "Kamil, that's Edwin. I'm gonna take him on a shopping trip in January because he's a little like you. Still exploring." There is no sting behind the words and Edwin thinks that yes, he's still exploring. That's not a bad thing.

"Are you gay?" Kamil asks.

"I am. But it took me a long time to realise that. More than fifty years. So I'm still learning."

"Oh." Kamil rubs his elbow. "I don't really know yet. I think I am. But I ..."

"You want to experiment," Vincent supplements. "You want to feel like yourself."

"Yeah."

Edwin sits down on the other side of Kamil. "Do you know ... what that would look like?"

Kamil shrugs. "Dunno. Just not this. I ..." He looks at Vincent. "I didn't even know men could dress like that."

"Neither did I, until I met Vincent." Edwin smiles gently at Kamil, who chuckles. It'd be more accurate to say that he knew, but he didn't think men should, that they were allowed. He didn't know men could dress like that and it didn't make them attention seekers, provocative, people who couldn't be happy just living their life.

"I wish I wasn't the only one," Kamil mumbles. "I don't want to be different." Edwin's heart aches. Me too, he thinks. I don't want to be different either. He only wants to live his life, and the life he wants won't ever be normal to some people. People like his parents.

Vincent wraps an arm around Kamil's shoulders. "It sucks. It sucks that when we are at our most happy, it also marks us as different. But you gotta think of it like this: it won't ever be normal until more people do it, until everyone looks so different that nobody knows what 'normal' is."

"It can just be something for you," Edwin says. "Nobody needs to know, if you won't be safe, if you can't trust them. You'd be braver than me."

"But you're gay."

"And scared of what people will think, even if they can't see. If you want someone gay and brave, you have to look at Vincent. Or some of the other people here. There are a lot of nice people who are very brave."

"He's lying," Vincent stage-whispers. "He's also brave." He continues at a normal tone. "It's often harder when you're older. Or when you're your age. It'll be easier when you're an adult and you have found people who like you for you, without any conditions. But you should try to be happy before then too, right?" He squeezes Kamil's shoulder. "You're not making any irreversible decisions if you test out what you like, how you feel most like yourself. Edwin is right that nobody has to know. Or maybe we'll organise a dress-up party for teens. Everyone will be different."

"I'd like that," Kamil says, looking at his shoes.

"I'll write it down." Vincent stands up. "Go make some friends, honey. Have fun. You could make some little children very happy if you tested out that dress." He gestures at a corner of the room and Kamil's face relaxes. He doesn't move over to the corner, but he wanders to a group of teens, who make space for him.

They both look after him for a second and then Vincent turns to Edwin. "Did you need me for something, darling?"

"Have you eaten? You should have some food. People can handle it here."

Vincent presses his lips together and looks over the room. He relaxes. "Wouldn't do to faint from hunger and dehydration, would it? It's a good thing I have you to take care of me, sweetheart." Edwin ignores his heated face and follows Vincent to the kitchen, feeling much like a cat begging for scraps of attention. He needs to snap out of it, if he ever wants to get over his crush, but his brain is still stuck on Vincent saying he's brave, on taking care of him.

"Vincent!" several people exclaim when he enters the kitchen. They shuffle their chairs around the table and laugh when nobody can agree where to make space. Eventually, a spot opens up next to a middle-aged guy in a tight short-sleeved T-shirt, his muscles on display.

"I'll fetch you a chair," Edwin offers. Vincent accepts it with a squeeze of his forearm and a "thanks, honey" that really should stop making Edwin blush. Everyone here knows what Vincent is like. They know he doesn't mean it.

Vincent shuffles in close to the muscled guy and he gestures at the spot next to him. "Come sit with me, pumpkin. You've eaten, right?"

Edwin is helpless to obey and grabs his chair, while Vincent's neighbour makes him a plate.

"Have you met Tom?" Vincent asks, before he takes a bite of the turkey, with the sauce Edwin prepared. "He's our finances guy. Looks tough, but a real softie, aren't you, darling?"

Tom chuckles. "As long as you keep me well fed." He holds out a hand for Edwin behind Vincent's back.

"Edwin doesn't need to worry about that. He can cook."

"Sure," Edwin says, "but I don't carry food around." Everyone around them laughs, and Edwin pastes on a smile. Vincent is sitting close to Tom and touching his arm to ask for a napkin and Tom is pressing into it, touching back. As if they are a pair. Edwin doesn't want Tom to be here. He wants to be alone with Vincent, or sit with Kim and Tatsuo and Annick. He feels like a third wheel, for some reason he can't name, irrational and overwhelming.

"So how's it going out there?" Tom asks. "You charmed everyone as usual? Everyone happy?"

Vincent flaps his hand in front of his face as if to waft air towards him. "You know me, darling. I got everyone wrapped around my pinkie."

"That's because they don't know you!" someone shouts, and the table devolves into laughing.

"Lies! I am very charming." Vincent looks up through his lashes at Tom. "If I ask very nicely, I bet Tom will bring me a glass of water. Won't you, a nice strong man like you?" He pats Tom's biceps and puckers his lips to smack an air kiss on Tom's cheek for good measure.

"Yes, your Majesty," Tom says and he stands up, grinning, eliciting another round of laughter. I would have fetched you a glass of water, Edwin thinks. You could have asked me. He's immediately horrified at his own jealousy. This is just Vincent's personality. It doesn't mean anything. Not with Edwin, not with Tom.

"Thank you, noble knight," Vincent says when Tom hands him a glass. "How can I ever repay you?"

"I would accept another kiss from someone as pretty as you."

"Your wish is my command." Vincent blows an air kiss over his handpalm to Tom, who pretends to catch it and hold it over his heart. He flexes his muscles and Vincent swoons dramatically, falling into Edwin, who ends up holding him by the shoulders. He fights the urge to pull Vincent further to him, away from Tom.

"I'm surrounded by handsome men. Whatever shall I do, darling?" He looks up at Edwin, whose mouth is dry.

"Nothing, if you keep only flirting," Kim teases, passing behind them with a stack of dishes. "Where's your promise of eternal love?"

"Ah, but only my love for you is eternal, dear. You and Anna. How could you ever ask me to love another? I am wounded, sugar."

"I love you too, but too much of a good thing is still too much. So how about you don't deprive the world of some of that love?" I want your love, Edwin thinks. Would Vincent ... Could Vincent ever ... He's had relationships, Caroline said. His type is sporty, like Edwin. He wouldn't pick Edwin, not with their history, not when Edwin's so plain and he could have Tom, who plays along with his dramatics, who is confident and well-liked by his friends. Tom is sporty. They were flirting. What if it wasn't a joke? What if the flirting was real?

It hurts to consider it, to imagine Vincent with another guy in front of his eyes, while they're still friends. It hurts more than the idea of getting over Vincent while Vincent stays happily single. He doesn't want to witness Vincent in love with another man while he's still nursing his own feelings, but refusing to see Vincent because of his crush would be silly.

"You are absolutely right," Vincent says and he sits up again, speaking to Edwin. "What do you think, darling? Who should I pick?"

"I don't know. You've already used me as a pillow, so I think that speaks in favour of me," Edwin says, surprising himself.

"And he got you a chair and he fetched you, so that's quite a bit more than a glass of water," Kim says, winking at Edwin.

Vincent turns to Tom. "What do you have to say for yourself? Can you top that?"

"I don't know about topping that, but I can top for sure."

Vincent looks Tom up and down. "I think I'll stick to staying single after all, if that's all on offer. That's what hook-ups are for." He stands up. "How about we get back to work? Those dishes won't clean themselves and I have people to entertain."

Edwin grabs Vincent's arm before he can walk away in the resulting bustle. "I'm going to my parents, after the dishes. In an hour. If I don't see you before then."

Vincent smiles at him. "Of course, darling. Leave whenever you want. I'll see you for our run, or do you want to skip this week?"

"No, no. We should run extra, with all that food."

"My my, Edwin, are you saying you only want me if I'm slim and slender?"

Edwin allows himself to look for a second, to linger. "I don't think a few kilos would ruin your beauty. You would still have your charm." Vincent blinks and a slow smile grows. Edwin adds: "I'd be a hypocrite anyway. I have a bit more meat on me than you."

"And you're plenty handsome." He leans over the dirty plate he's holding and kisses Edwin's cheek, barely touching, but it burns there. "Merry Christmas, darling." He walks away and it takes Edwin a few seconds to gather his wits. He starts loading a dishwasher and catches Tom's gaze across the room. Tom pulls up his eyebrows and Edwin shakes his head. Tom smirks, shrugs and goes on with his own stack of dishes.

Edwin is too old for this.