The bell rings and Edwin groans, squinting against the late afternoon light. It's Friday and he ended work early, but his nap has lasted longer than planned. He pushes himself up and winces at the cricks in his neck and back. That's what he gets for falling asleep on the couch for so long. Should have taken the nap in his bed, at the least, if he wasn't going to set an alarm.

He opens the door. "Vincent?" Is this another surprise visit? He's not sure he's up for Vincent's antics. He thought they'd just call tonight.

"Hey, darling. Didn't you read my message? I thought we could go out today."

"Oh. I fell asleep."

"You napped? I thought you would just about be done with work."

"I left early."

Edwin steps to the side so Vincent can enter. No use talking in the doorway. "Leaving work early is not like you," Vincent comments.

"And today it was." Edwin sinks down on the couch again and looks up at Vincent, who looks back with a frown around his mouth. Edwin dreads the questions forming in Vincent's head, because talking about the facts would prompt more questions and he can barely untangle the emotions.

"Do you want to visit Eliane, darling?" Vincent asks gently. It's so unexpected that Edwin stays silent and Vincent continues: "Just a nice and quiet evening. You can pet her kittens as therapy."

"You wanted to go out," Edwin objects feebly. "We can go out." He starts getting up again, but Vincent touches his wrist and Edwin plops down as if Vincent pulled his strings. He's too groggy still, too worn to put up any kind of resistance.

"You left work early. You napped. Wouldn't you rather have a quiet evening?"

"But you —" Edwin argues, without finishing his sentence. He doesn't have an argument, other than the desire to do what Vincent wants. It was just an annoying day; he can deal with that. They can go out and Vincent can have fun. Edwin doesn't want to hold him back.

"See? You know I'm right. Let's visit Eliane, sweetheart," Vincent states. Edwin huffs, both in fondness and relief. He doesn't want to go out, but he doesn't want to be alone either. Eliane has mentioned the newly born kittens of her cat a few times, but he hasn't had the chance yet to go over and see them. Petting the soft fur of a kitten and Eliane's steady company sound perfect right now. Therapeutic, as Vincent said.

"I'll call if she's free."

Eliane has no plans tonight and they can come over. Even just talking to her, Edwin feels a little better. He digs up leftovers for dinner and Vincent is quiet while they eat and drive over. Edwin's headache has disappeared and he just feels hollow now, after the day he's had. He doesn't want to think about it, and yet his mind keeps returning to the facts, the way it's been all week. It's worse today, after he spent an hour calling the hospital and being led in circles to get an appointment with a specialist.

Vincent asks about his day, but when Edwin's answers are short and vague, he doesn't push. Edwin is relieved. Maybe Vincent has finally learned when he shouldn't push. He doesn't want Vincent to prod and poke these soft spots, not when the argument with Ellen is still so fresh on his mind. He hates when he argues with her. He doesn't want to argue with Vincent, too, and if Vincent would push him on this, he would push back. Just the thought makes him anxious because if he argues with Vincent, he will lose. Vincent will steamroll over his arguments and make out his side to be the only right side, and Edwin will feel like a terrible human being for being on the other side.

But this is about him. His body, his health. His side is the only right side because only he has the autonomy over his body. Even Ellen can't tell him what medical decisions he should make. It stems from worry, but that's not an excuse.

Eliane smiles when she opens the door for them. "Hey Edwin, Vincent." She leads them to the living room and there, in a corner on a pile of towels on top of several layers of cardboard, her cat is decadently stretched out, surrounded by tiny bundles of fur.

"Can I go over?" Edwin asks. His fingers itch with the urge to touch.

"Of course. You can pet them. Mama bear is used to it. Especially if you pet her too."

Edwin kneels on the floor, ignoring how the hard floor presses into his knees. He reaches out and strokes Nanou from head to tail, repeating the motion until he's lost in the rhythm. She purrs and Edwin holds his hand on her flank, just to feel her rising and deflating belly, before he pets the first kitten with one careful finger. It mewls and Edwin's heart melts just a little.

"Do you want to hold her? Or any of the others?" Eliane asks.

"I'd love that," Edwin confesses. He sits on the couch and Eliane hands him a kitten that he holds on his lap. He strikes her tiny tail and her soft belly and her fuzzy ears. It feels like a healing experience more than anything else he could have done this evening, meditatively caressing this small living being that trusts him. Her heart beats strongly under his fingers, and he wants to cradle her close. She's beautiful, too, brown-grey with white tufts at the tip of her tail and her ears and her tiny paws.

When he finally looks up, Vincent sits stiffly on the other couch, watching in silence. "Do you want to pet her or hold her?"

"No, thank you, darling," Vincent says. His shoulders are rigid and the words come out as if they don't fit quite right in his mouth.

"She won't hurt you," Edwin says, closing his fingers around a single paw.

"I know that," Vincent snaps. His mouth draws into a straight line. "I don't want to do something wrong, okay?"

"It's hard to do something wrong when you're just petting a kitten," Eliane laughs. "Do you want to pet the mother? You definitely can't hurt her."

Before Vincent can reply, she lays the cat down over his lap. She and Edwin take the kittens and two kittens is somehow even better than one. Edwin uses one hand for each kitten and each of their breaths fills his heart. They're so small, and so perfect.

Vincent stiffly puts his hand on Nanou's back. "You can stroke her," Edwin instructs. "Like this." He demonstrates on the kittens in his lap. Vincent mimics his movements. He gradually relaxes, but he's still not smiling.

"Do you not like cats?" Edwin asks.

"I like them well enough." Vincent resolutely stares down, not taking his eyes off the cat in his lap, as if he's waiting for her to bite him, after all. "People are easier. But animals can't tell me what they want."

"But they do! And it's so much clearer than with people. Animals don't hide or lie."

"Well, I've never had a pet, so don't judge me, darling."

"I've never had a pet either," Edwin says. "But I've always wanted a cat." Unfortunately, his parents didn't want to deal with a pet, and Ellen was mildly allergic and so she didn't want to deal with it either. It's one of those things that's always been a fact of life, a mild regret and forgotten wish.

"Would you like one of the kittens?" Eliane asks, as if reading his mind. "They haven't been adopted yet, so you can choose."

"You'd give me one of your kittens?"

"Sure. They need a home anyway. You'd take good care of a kitten."

"Oh." Edwin looks down at the kittens in his lap, and then at Vincent. Vincent might not like a cat. But they don't live together. Who knows how long their relationship will last. But a cat will stay with him for more than a decade. He's always wanted a cat and he never could, and here is his chance on a silver platter. "I'd love one of the kittens."

"Which one would you like?"

Edwin looks down again at the two perfect kittens on his legs, quiet and sleepy. How is he supposed to choose? "Can I think about it?"

"Sure." Eliane laughs. "You can even come back to play with them, when they have more energy than now."

"Thank you," Edwin says earnestly. Warmth blooms in his chest at the idea alone, that he could have his own cat at home, something warm and alive to cuddle and care for. Even if it wasn't one of Eliane's kittens, he can't imagine not getting a cat now. "Really. Thank you."

***

When they arrive back home, two hours later, Edwin says: "Thank you for taking me out. It was just what I needed." He feels much calmer, as if he can handle the world again. The sharp edges of frustration, of worry, of guilt have faded. Sure, his recent test results weren't good, but he'll talk with the doctors and cholesterol is not a death sentence.

"No thanks needed, darling. I just made the suggestion." Vincent opens up the top button of his coat. "If anything, thank Eliane and her cats."

"You don't mind that I will get a kitten?" Vincent didn't object, but perhaps he just didn't want to do that in front of Eliane. Hopefully it's not a dealbreaker.

"It's not up to me, pumpkin. You can do whatever you want with your life."

"But we're in a relationship. You're going to be in my apartment."

"Sure. And I can be in the same space as a cat." The reply is terse and anxiety wells up in Edwin's stomach again, dragging the other emotions of the day with it. He's only asking for Vincent's opinion. Vincent didn't seem that uncomfortable with Nanou in his lap. Maybe he should have asked Vincent's opinion immediately, before saying yes to Eliane, and that's why Vincent is so passive-aggressive now.

"Have I done something wrong?" Maybe Vincent is angry that he didn't want to go out. That could be why he was unusually quiet during dinner. "I'm sorry we didn't go out like you wanted."

"I don't care that we didn't go out, sugar. Are you feeling better?"

"I'm fine. Are you — Did you have a bad day?" That'd explain why Vincent is so quiet, his replies so short. Maybe he's not angry, but he needed the distraction. Edwin couldn't give him what he needed, so now Vincent needs another outlet. "Is Kim okay? Do you need me to drop you off in Antwerp?"

"Kim is fine. I'm fine. More fine than you, darling. I didn't leave work early and nap for a few hours and then didn't say a word about what was going on."

"It's nothing," Edwin quickly protests. "We could have gone out if you wanted. I don't need to get a cat if you don't want one."

"It's not about freaking going out or the cat, darling! I couldn't care less about that. I would have gone out for you because you like it more than me." Vincent punctuates his words with an accusing finger to Edwin's chest. "But you are pretending to be fine at the merest suggestion I might want something that requires you to be fine. You didn't want to go out, and yet you tried to say yes and you are apologising. You seemed ready to tell me you wouldn't get the cat if I said no just now. But you want the cat. So get the freaking cat, honey!"

"Why are you so angry about the cat? I just care about your opinion. We're in a relationship. I just want you to have a nice evening. To be comfortable here. Is that so wrong?"

"No, sugar, I'm angry that you don't tell me your opinion, what you want. What you need. How am I supposed to know that you've had a bad day if you don't tell me? If I hadn't noticed and insisted that we visit Eliane, you would have tried to go out and neither of us would have had a nice evening. And what if I hadn't come over? Would you just have stewed in your misery?"

"That's rich, coming from you. You didn't tell me when you had a bad day. You tried to pick a fight instead of telling me you had a bad day." While he's speaking, Edwin's anger gains steam and the words keep coming, one after another coming loose and dragging more down the slope. "Sometimes I think you're just waiting for me to make a mistake and stop putting up with you, so you can feel high and mighty about ending the relationship and you can blame me. Because I did or said something wrong, and you can ignore that you baited me."

"Are we really back to this again, girl? You thought my make-up and personality were a personal affront to you when we met. You think I want to end the relationship?"

"Sometimes it sure feels like it. You always provoke me. You always know how to hurt me. I'm surprised you've even humoured me for so long when I'm clearly not feminine or confident or flashy enough for you." Edwin heaves and turns away so he doesn't need to look at Vincent. He's so angry. Vincent is so infuriating. He's a hypocrite and Edwin deserves better than a partner that thinks he's not good enough.

"When have I said you should be more feminine?"

"When we met. And half your comments on how I look. You constantly push me to try feminine things, say you'll teach me. Like the heels. You told me I should have more flair a few weeks ago, that I hadn't earned my gay badge yet! But I'm never going to be like you. I don't know why you agreed to a serious relationship when you know I'm still learning and I'm never going to —" Edwin wants to say "scream my sexuality to the world", but he's actually paid attention to what Vincent has taught him. He's not going to give Vincent any ammunition to claim that Edwin judged him, that this is in any way about how Vincent looks and not how he treats Edwin. "I'm never going to be as visible and confidently queer as you. You need to accept that."

"I know that, darling. You think I expect you to be someone different than you are?" Vincent no longer sounds angry, only upset. It takes the wind out of Edwin's sails and he looks at Vincent, at his very serious face. They're still standing in the hallway and haven't even taken off their coats.

He sighs. "Let's sit down and talk."

They take off their coats in silence and when their arms brush, Edwin suppresses the urge to jerk back. He only has the one couch, so they sit down on opposite ends and stare at each other. Vincent's hair stands up and his gaze is inscrutable. Edwin holds his hands together to stop them from twitching and trembling.

Vincent breaks the silence. "I already apologised for what I said when we met. You can't drag up old issues, honey! I thought we talked it out that you can be whoever you want to be."

"You say that, but you make me try all these things and make all these little comments. You didn't stop making them after December. It's clear that what you really want is someone who is more feminine and confident than me. You claim I don't need to conform, but if I conform to society, it's bad."

"Because we're all brainwashed by society and I want you to question that."

"And if I don't want to question? Does that make me a bad person?"

"Of course not, darling. Being a bigot makes you a bad person. But you're not a bigot."

"Great," Edwin says. "So maybe trust me a little more. You can't constantly assume I'm out to get you."

"I don't assume that. And I didn't know what kind of person you were when we met. You can't keep blaming me for assuming."

"But we're not strangers now. I understand that you sometimes need to protect yourself, like that guy at the beer tasting, but I'm your partner! You can't keep assuming when you know me."

Edwin glances away. His hand clenches on air. The one thing he didn't want today was another fight and here he is, fighting with Vincent, pushing. They're probably going to break up. Vincent won't put up with Edwin's accusations, when he could find someone more like him, who would understand. Because Edwin is never going to understand what it's like and his attempts to be a good partner are clearly not enough for Vincent, when Vincent keeps treating him like this, baiting him into insults, picking fights instead of telling Edwin what he needs. Maybe their breakup will be for the better, even.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart" Vincent offers softly. "I'll pay more attention that I don't treat you as if I don't like who you are, as you are. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You need to trust me and talk to me, too. You said you would try a serious relationship, but then you can't treat me as if I'm only here for the good moments. If you don't want to do that, maybe we should break up."

"I don't want to break up. Giving up that easy, darling?" Vincent cajoles, but it's half-hearted.

"I'm not giving up. But if you only talk to Kim and Sumaya when something's wrong, why are you in a relationship with me?"

"Now you're being hypocritical. Why didn't you tell me you had a bad day? Or that you wanted to stay home?"

"You were going to be bored."

"So what? I want you comfortable. I'm not going to break up with you because you have a bad day. I shouldn't treat you like you're only in this for the fun, but you shouldn't treat me like I'm only in this for the fun. If I need to talk, so do you, darling."

"Okay," Edwin acknowledges. He learned to talk about his feelings with Ellen, but maybe that's something you need to learn anew with every partner.

"We're in this together. I don't want you to be uncomfortable, but you need to tell me in the moment. I can't guess. I don't want you to say or do things just because you think I will like it. Frankly, I find it quite hurtful that you keep talking as if I will end our relationship over something as superficial as a night in, when I might have liked to go out. Trust needs to be mutual."

"You're right," Edwin admits. "We should trust each other. It's not fair if I assume the worst of you, and it's not fair if you assume the worst of me. It's not your fault that I get nervous around you."

"Why are you so nervous, darling? I know you have some fire when you want to."

Edwin shrugs. When he wants to is mostly when he's angry, and he doesn't want to be angry with Vincent, just to have the courage to push back. "I want to do right by you. Be the kind of man you deserve."

"And you think you can be that man by fearing my judgement of every single thing you do or say? That's not going to work, darling. Didn't we talk about this in December, too? I will tell you if I'm insulted. I'm not going to resent you for being flawed like all of us."

"Ellen said that too. That if a relationship breaks at the first mistake, it wasn't very strong and if I was too obsessed with all the ways I could mess it up, it would ruin what we have."

"You had the same problem with her?"

"No, I told her about you."

"Hanging out our dirty laundry here? How dare you," Vincent says lightly. "But you haven't ruined anything yet. I think you're delightful when you're not desperately trying to do only things I would like. You can be a little more confident. I like that."

"I'll try." Unfortunately, when it's a compliment, that's when he can't care as much what Vincent thinks. When it's anything potentially negative, hestill cares too much. "You don't only make me nervous. You make me happy, too."

"Perfect. I say we have make-up sex now for the happy hormones and then we cuddle and talk about our bad days. If you're up for that?"

Edwin laughs. "You're good at cheering me up. Thank you."

"If you give me an orgasm, the thankfulness will be mutual."