April is turning into May and when Edwin and Vincent go on their weekly run together (often followed by sex and a movie, in whatever order their mood requires), they step on the fallen petals of looming trees and flowers, instead of the dead leaves from when they started. Their relationship is nearing the four-month mark, and they haven't had a big fight again. They haven't really talked about the crux of the conflict again either, not in so many words, but this time, Edwin has no doubt that they're both trying. This time, they've actually pierced this bubble of resentment and distrust, and it has flowed away, leaving them naked on fertile ground. Only stray anxiety is left behind, like stones in the field, more fossilised habit than festering emotion. It feels like April showers did not only bring May flowers, but sowed new life into their relationship as well.

May is also Brussels Pride. Pride has only ever existed at the edge of Edwin's awareness, but Mona brings it to the front when, one Saturday morning after their shift, xe asks if he's going.

"Uh," Edwin stutters, because he's never considered it before. In his mind, Pride is for people who are loud and, well, proud, and no matter how much he's grown, he's still not that. "I don't know. Does Vincent usually go?"

"We usually go with the whole volunteer group, but Vincent likes to walk with Merhaba. He hasn't mentioned it yet?"

"No. I'll ask him." Vincent can be a little forgetful when it comes to mentioning plans that are more than a week in the future. He's mentioned a breakfast for IDAHOT and he has a concert coming up, but nothing about Pride.

"Well, you don't need to go with him. You can walk with us. Or not be part of the parade at all. You can be in the audience."

"I don't think I want to go on my own."

"But you don't need to! Ask Caroline. Or Ellen and your children. Any of your friends, really. This is a celebration of diversity! Anyone's welcome."

"It's not weird to go with Ellen?"

"Of course not! Ask her. Ask your daughters."

So Edwin does, that same evening when he goes to dinner with Vincent. To his slight surprise, all of them are happy and excited to go with him. Sandra looks up rainbow flags on her phone, so she can buy one, and she wonders out loud if she should wear a T-shirt with a message or make a sign to hold up. Edwin quickly shuts that down, but Ellen jokes that she'll wear a T-shirt proclaiming 'Proud ex-wife of a gay man' (to Vincent's amusement and support). Tamara is more quiet about it, but she asks Vincent questions about the Pride parades he's been to, what it's like, how was his first.

The day of the parade, they meet up at the train station in Antwerp. Ellen is there first, thankfully without an embarrassing shirt calling her 'Proud ex-wife'. She did find a discoloured shirt with a rainbow, that must be three decades old, at least. Edwin is pretty sure she had that shirt when they weren't married yet. She has also pinned up a button with 'she/her' in big white letters on a black background.

"I thought that would be nice," she explains. "I was looking at things I could wear to show I'm an ally and they sold these." She's brought one for Edwin too and pins it on his shirt. He'd never even considered putting his pronouns anywhere because, well, he's obviously a man, but it's a good idea. Mona and Kim probably need one of these, and it's nicer for them if they're not the only people wearing a button.

"You're looking good, by the way," Ellen states, smiling at him.

"Yeah?"

"It suits you."

Edwin resists the urge to touch the clip-on earrings he's used only once before, or the green nail polish Caroline had gifted him. This time, he's applied it all on his own, after Vincent left this morning. He'll be part of the parade with Merhaba, the organisation for queer people with immigrant roots, so there were still details to finalise, arrangements to double-check, people to hype up, fun to have during the pre-party.

"Thank you," he replies. He can't say anything more because Sandra and Tamara arrive together, barely in time to catch their train to Brussels. They hurry to the right track and cross two wagons in search of four seats together. The train is busy, and Edwin can spot several other Pride-goers, decked out in rainbow and neon colours. Sandra has brought a bag and she fishes out two rainbow flags.

"One for me and Tamara and one for you two. You can put it around your shoulders or something. I thought more than two would be overkill."

"I think you thought right," Ellen says, unfurling a corner of the flag and then rolling it up again. "What are those colours on your face, Tamara? Is that a flag?" On both her cheeks, Tamara has painted two green stripes and a white, grey and black stripe. With the crowd and Sandra's flags, Edwin hadn't registered yet that Tamara never wears colourful make-up, that this was not a rainbow flag. Sandra would be more likely to put a rainbow flag on her face as a show of support.

"Ah," Tamara says, twitching and suddenly seeming shyer. "Uh, it's the aromantic flag."

"Aromantic," Edwin repeats. "Like ... asexual?" The words sound strange to his ears, but if this is what he thinks it might be, he doesn't want to show any doubt, anything that could be construed as distaste.

"Yeah," Tamara says. "But I'm not asexual. Just aromantic. It means that I don't have romantic feelings for anyone. I only like people platonically."

"Oh," Edwin says, trying to think of something supportive. It would have been easier if she was a lesbian, but this is also fine. He doesn't want Tamara to think it isn't fine, even if he doesn't know much about what it means. Ellen and Sandra remain silent and even though it's only been a second or two, it feels too long, bordering judgemental. So he says: "That's nice. If it makes you happy. That's the only thing that matters."

"Yes," Ellen agrees, coming out of her stupor. "If you're happy, I'm happy for you."

"Me too," Sandra says. "Is that why you never wanted to let the dolls kiss when we were kids?"

Tamara laughs. "Maybe? I don't know. I'm still learning what this means because I only figured it out last month or so."

"Is that why you're only telling us now?" Ellen asks.

"I thought that with a gay dad, I could afford to do a casual coming-out. And it was dad who helped me figure it out."

"I did?"

"In February. When we talked in the car, about what attraction feels like and how you know you don't just want to be friends with someone."

"Oh. I'm glad it helped."

"So am I."

"I'm not," Sandra protests, failing to keep a straight face. "Now mum and I are truly going to be the odd ones out today."

"Tough luck," Tamara fires back.

From the moment they step out of Brussels Central Station, they are surrounded by LGBT people decked out in all colours of the rainbow. Music is blaring from somewhere, even though the parade hasn't started yet. People are dancing, as if this is one big party in the streets of the city, in rainbow theme.

The sheer joy on all these faces is like a wave, washing over the crowd, over Edwin, until he, too, is smiling, soaked with it, giddy. These are his people. He's never been surrounded by so many of his people. Not only that, he's surrounded by his family too, the people that he loves most in this world, that he thought he would have to give up in order to live with himself in honesty. In his mind, his sexuality would irrevocably separate him from his family, but he forgot that new things grow in empty spaces. Nature is resilient, and so are people.

In the fault line that was created by his coming-out, a community sprung up, new friends, new family, because that's what Vincent is. He's happier now, happier than he ever thought he could be if he lost his family, except he never lost them. He's standing shoulder to shoulder with Ellen, holding a flag around their shoulders. His daughter is part of the same, broad community. Instead of being alone in the abyss, they have all joined him and climbed up side by side, pushing and pulling and cheering him on.

Being here feels like a culmination, a celebration of how far he's come. If Vincent were here, Edwin would kiss him to spill some of his joy, to tell him how grateful he is to be here, that he loves him. He wants to hug Caroline, Patrick, Guido, Mona, everyone, and he's not even a hugger — show them how much it means to him that they welcomed him, that they taught him, that it's thanks to them that he stands here, sure of who he is and where he belongs. If not for them, he wouldn't think to celebrate his sexuality at all.

But standing here, there is an energy pulsating through the streets that all of them are worth celebrating, that they shouldn't be ashamed of being different. Here, standing out is not a bad thing. His nail polish, his earrings, his rainbow flag are unremarkable. Here, surrounded by people like him, it's not so scary to try something new, to deviate from the masculinity he's practised his whole life.

"I'm happy you are all here," he confides.

"Aw, dad, we love you too," Sandra coos. Ellen squeezes his arm.

"I'm happy we're here, too," Tamara says, turning around to take in all the people. "Everyone is so happy. I thought Pride was a protest."

"I think it was," Edwin replies. "But maybe showing that we're happy and that we can celebrate who we are is also important. I think that's also a form of protest."

"Damn, dad," Sandra whistles, "you're getting deep."

Edwin shrugs self-consciously. "I've talked a lot with Vincent." Vincent might never have said those exact words, but he would agree that being out here, unapologetically different, is a statement. And nothing is more unapologetic and visible than a celebration.

He smiles at his own thoughts. Look at him being radical and saying they should be loud and impossible to ignore, that their existence out in the open is a protest in and of itself.

They find a spot among the crowd alongside the trajectory of the parade, from where they'll hopefully be able to see Vincent and Mona and their other friends. They're lucky with the weather; it's not very warm, but the sun is shining. In the press of bodies, no one can be cold.

Edwin watches the crowd, the families with children, the adolescents, the two old women holding hands, a man with a prosthetic leg. There is someone wearing the trans colours, who he suspects is a trans woman, even if she doesn't look like a typical woman yet. Maybe she doesn't want to look like a woman and she's just happy being one. That doesn't seem as outrageous now as it would have months ago. Now, he smiles when they cross gazes and she smiles back.

As much as the crowd, the parade seems to have all kinds of people when it passes by. There are different floats for organisations, but also people walking with signs and banners, chanting or singing along to the music. There are the gays and lesbians Edwin expected, clad in all kinds of outfits, some of them living and breathing rainbow flags. There are the drag queens in extravagant wigs and tight dresses, the bisexual people with a man and woman who kiss and hold up a sign: "This is not straight". There are the transgender people, with an infinite range of genders and expression, and parents holding signs to say they love their trans children. One group gives out condoms and Edwin refuses, blushing.

There are the political parties, the police and army, sports clubs and choirs, the Rainbow Houses with Çavaria, and hairy men in revealing leather outfits. For a moment, the thought pops into Edwin's head that kink doesn't belong in public, not in front of families with children, but it's just a moment. It's just clothing, no more skin than you would see at the beach. If two kissing men in leather don't belong in public, it's only a few more steps to gay people not belonging in public.

Vincent would be proud of him for not falling victim to what his parents, what society has taught him.

Vincent, who is walking with Merhaba, decked out in a bright yellow skirt and a long, light grey shawl. He's hard to miss and Edwin cheers when he spots him, blending with the noise of the crowd. Vincent blows him a kiss when they pass, and Roos, Sabine and Jules return Edwin's wave. When Mona passes with the other volunteers, he waves as well and he resists the urge to run out into the street and join them. Maybe next year.

When the parade has passed, Edwin is hoarse and thirsty, so they walk to the Pride Village on the Mont des Arts in search of drinks and maybe a snack because Sandra is hungry.

"I didn't have time for lunch," she says defensively. "I had to pick up Tamara."

"And you were still almost late," Tamara volleys back, bumping shoulders.

"You would be too, if you had ADHD."

"I would."

Tamara treats all of them to Brussels waffles with a bunch of toppings, "as a birthday treat but for my coming-out". They wander through the market and watch a few acts on the stage. Edwin's phone buzzes with a text from Vincent and ten minutes later, he emerges from the crowd, friends in tow.

"Darling!" he shouts. "How was that for your first Pride?"

"I'm happy," Edwin replies, and on a whim, he hugs Vincent and smacks a kiss on his mouth. For good measure, he twirls him around too, even though he doesn't have the right hold to lift Vincent. Vincent goes along, laughing breathlessly and almost tripping on the cobblestones. Behind him, Edwin hears Ellen and his daughters laughing, his friends laughing, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care at all.