They stay in Brussels until dinner time, moving from the Pride Village to the Rainbow Village in the Saint Jacob Quarter. Edwin drifts between conversation with Vincent, with Ellen and his daughters, with Kim and Sumaya, Roos and Jules and Sabine, Mona and Annick, Tom and Brent, Marc and Guido and Leo and Patrick. He knows so many LGBT people now. At some point, he overhears Tamara talking with someone he doesn't know, about being aromantic, and he smiles. She deserves to know people like her.

Edwin's conversation with Roos peters out and he falls back to join Vincent, who is not talking to anyone. There are tight lines around his eyes and mouth, and his smile seems forced, his joy turning from genuine to slightly manic.

"You okay?" Edwin asks in a low tone.

"I'm fine, darling."

"Do you want to go home? I could do with a quiet evening." It's not even a real lie because Vincent will know what he's doing, but he's more likely to give in immediately if it's ostensibly for Edwin's benefit.

"It's too late to cook dinner."

"We can pick something up in Antwerp."

Vincent lips press into a thin line, but he gives in. That, more than anything, is a clear sign that he's exhausted and not doing as fine as he pretends. He's been functioning on 200% all day, and now the day and the mental exhaustion from the past few weeks are catching up to him and he can barely hold up a smile.

They say goodbye to everyone else and Edwin hugs all of them, while Vincent stands to the side, only hugging Kim and Sumaya. Ellen is last and squeezes him tight.

"Don't forget the play on Friday."

"I'll be there," Edwin promises. "I'll call."

They don't talk on the train ride to Antwerp, but Edwin holds Vincent hand and sits close to him, touching him in one long line from shoulder to knee. Vincent is an affectionate person and Edwin has learned that touch is one of the easiest ways to take a weight off Vincent's mental load. Without touch, he tends to retreat and bury his emotions, bowing under their mass. So while Vincent looks out the window, Edwin watches him, occasionally squeezing his hand. He orders their food on his phone when they're still on the train, and Vincent waits outside while he picks it up.

"Still alright?" Edwin asks when he walks out with the bag out of food.

"Tired," Vincent admits, now that they're not surrounded by friends. His smile is small, but it's there, and Edwin grabs his hand again.

"Do you want to start that new puzzle tonight? The one of Van Gogh's Sunflowers?" Puzzling is something they only started doing recently, but it's been a hit. It's something they can do together, in silence, without much need to talk, but also perfect if they do want to talk. The repetitive and artsy qualities of it fit perfectly in the row of Vincent's other hobbies like knitting and colouring, and Edwin has found it surprisingly meditative and fun.

"That'd be nice. Thank you, sweetheart."

"Of course."

Edwin sets out the food on the table in Vincent's apartment. Vincent attempts to help, but Edwin argues that it's quicker if Vincent just sits and rests and Vincent doesn't protest. It fills Edwin with warmth that he's allowed to take care of Vincent, that he can soothe Vincent and offer him quiet, that he can distil this slice of domestic happiness for both of them.

They eat in silence and they start puzzling in silence as well, but Edwin presses their legs together under the table and deliberately brushes Vincent's hands as they move puzzle pieces around. He can feel Vincent gradually relax until, finally, he slumps back in his chair.

"I really am fine, you know."

"I know. But I like taking care of you."

"You don't say, darling." Vincent smiles tiredly. "You're good at it. It's nice."

"I'm glad."

"A good meal and a full night's sleep and I'll be good to go. You've already provided half of that, so you've done your duty." Vincent lines out pieces of the bottom border, shuffling and testing until he has a string of yellow. "I think I've pushed myself too much the past few weeks." He doesn't look at Edwin as he says it, still focused on selecting puzzle pieces.

"You've seemed a little ... obsessive with doing everything yourself," Edwin suggests carefully. "Maybe you could let other people handle some things."

Vincent sighs and pushes his chair back, walking to the sink. For a brief second, Edwin wonders if he's pushed too much and he'll need to try again later, but Vincent comes back with a glass of water. "If not me, who's going to do it? Everyone already does what they can."

"I could help."

"Yeah? You go to one Pride parade and you decide you want to be an activist, honey?"

"I volunteer for one charity meal and listen to my partner, and I decide I want to help out," Edwin corrects.

Vincent's eyes crinkle at the corners as his lips stretch into a smile. "You are too nice. I can't tease you when you're so genuine."

Edwin pulls up a shoulder. He'll take 'too nice' as his character flaw. "You don't seem to mind."

"I don't." Vincent turns Edwin's head towards him and kisses him softly. "You're a sweetheart and that's how I like you."

Edwin smiles stiffly and turns to the puzzle. Even after all these months, it still embarrasses him when Vincent stops teasing and gives him a compliment in that serious tone. They're literally in a relationship and he knows Vincent likes him, but hearing it out loud is intimate, as if the sun has pierced through the trees and now illuminates the soil in startling clarity.

"So you want to help me, darling? Are you ready to start announcing your sexuality everywhere?"

"I meant the practical stuff. Something that helps you and that helps people. Like the library." The library is very nice, not only because he loves children, but also because it's something he does with Mona, with a friend. It's not about him, it's about the stories, and he knows it matters, in small and concrete ways. He's started reading some fantasy novels with gay characters that Mona recommended, and it was a more emotional experience than he expected. "I don't want to be in the spotlight. But people can draw their own conclusions. I don't care."

"You don't care, darling? That's new."

"I try not to care. I didn't care today, about how I looked and the rainbow flag and what people thought. I liked that everyone there was a little like us or there to support us."

"That's definitely the best part about Pride. So many queer people that the cishets become the odd ones out." Vincent reaches out to play with the short hairs in Edwin's neck. "If you want more of that, we can go to Antwerp Pride in August. We can up the stakes and put make-up on you, darling."

"No." Edwin doesn't even hesitate.

"No to the make-up? Or to Antwerp Pride? I gotta say, I'm a little hurt." Vincent clutches his chest. "You go to Brussels Pride with your ex-wife, but not to Antwerp Pride with me? Are you ashamed of me, pumpkin?"

"No. You know I'm not ashamed," Edwin reproaches. "Don't joke about that. You can look however you want and I'll hold your hand and kiss you in public, but I'm not wearing make-up. I'm not your doll."

"Ah, darling, not even for me? Just a little rainbow. I can give you nail polish and earrings to match."

"Vincent. I don't even know if I like the earrings." They didn't bother him today, but that might just be the buoyant joy of belonging. "I don't want to wear make-up."

"What about the wedding? Nothing fancy, no colours, just to make you look more handsome in the pictures."

Edwin hesitates for a moment. It's Sandra's wedding next month, of course he wants to look his best. But still — "I don't think I want to try. I just — Don't care about other people's opinions, right?"

Vincent laughs. "It was only a matter of time until you'd throw my own teachings back in my face again. No make-up, I understand. I'll stop asking." Vincent lifts Edwin's hand and kisses his knuckles apologetically. He rubs his thumb over the wet spot and leans in to kiss the corner of Edwin's mouth as well, following a line up to his ear. "Will you wear earrings to the wedding? And if so, can I pick new ones for you?"

Edwin shivers under the warm breath on his ear and huffs. "You don't give up, do you? I don't know. Maybe. Let me see if I like these first."

"Alright, I can live with that. Thank you for indulging me, sweetheart. Even with your long-suffering looks."

Edwin shoots Vincent one of those looks, but at this point, it's just banter. He knows that Vincent doesn't want to actually pressure him into anything. Vincent is not going to ask him again to wear heels. He's not going to think less of Edwin for saying no, or assume that Edwin is just biased against feminine men. He's sufficiently proven that he's very much into feminine men and that he can dabble in some femininity without hating himself.

"Hey," Vincent starts, "do you think Sandra would like jewellery as a wedding gift? I suspect she's not in want of an old-school watch."

"I don't think that will help her to be more on time. But you can give her jewellery. You want to give her a separate wedding gift from me?"

"Well, I haven't been around long enough to be her step-father, so I can't claim your gift as mine, too. Besides, you and Ellen have a joint gift. I don't want to turn up without anything."

"You can bring something if you want. But you're family now. I don't think Sandra and Luis expect anything from you."

"I'm family, huh? Are we at that stage, sweetheart?" Vincent leans back, holding Edwin's gaze with faux nonchalance. His eyes seem extra dark and deep in the lamplight, twinkling with faint amusement. He still has the make-up on from Pride, but it's a little smeared. It's rather charming, if Edwin's honest.

For a split second, Edwin wonders if he should go ahead, if maybe this is too fast to talk about commitment in terms of an enduring future, to talk about being part of a family. But no, Vincent has been clear that he's serious about their relationship, that he, too, wants a future for them beyond casual dates and sex. They've been living that future already, haven't they? They take care of each other. Vincent tries to accept help — it looks like he might even let Edwin take off some of the load from his busy schedule in the next month — Edwin tries to speak up. They are solid together, during fun and hard times; they are good for each other.

So the only way ahead is to be very clear, to find common ground and decide which trail they'll take. And one of them needs to take the first step.

"I am," Edwin says. "I care a lot about you. I trust you." He reaches out to touch Vincent's hand. "I love you."

"You're doing it again," Vincent says. "That whole sincerity thing. How am I supposed to deal with that?" He turns his hand up and his fingers graze Edwin's wrist. His palm is sweaty, but so is Edwin's. "I love you too, pumpkin. Honoured to be part of your family."

Edwin loses his veneer of confidence and looks away, flustered. "You're a great person. Everyone likes you."

"Are we exchanging compliments now?" Vincent jokes. "If so, Kim says you're their favourite of my exes. Not that you're my ex. You know what I mean, darling. Do you want to meet my parents and siblings, to complete the family checklist?"

"You haven't met my parents and brother either."

"But I'm going to meet them at the wedding, right? Seems only fair. I can tell them on my next visit and then we'll give them a few months to get used to the idea."

"You can do that if you want. But I've already met Kim and Sumaya."

"And I've met Ellen and your daughters. Your point?"

"Arno won't care, but my parents won't come around. They're not going to be nice to you. They think like I did, but worse."

"That's alright, darling. I'm not going to think less of you if they treat me poorly. If I am your family, I will deal with the good and the bad. I know what people are like. I'm not going to be hurt by some garden-variety homophobia or racism or misogyny or whatever you think they'll throw at me. I was talking today with a few people about discrimination within the queer community and I find that a lot harder to digest. Those are the people who should be on my side."

"Like I was."

"Eh, you were the mild type. At least you didn't make racist comments or hate women. But there's a whole group of people who will put "no fats, no femmes, no Asians" on their Grindr profile."

"Isn't that just ... Grindr? It's very shallow."

Vincent laughs. "And where do you think those people go when they're not on Grindr? They walk around in society and I've met them. You were the insecure type who will judge but tolerate. They're the hateful type whose masculinity is threatened if you even express interest in them."

"I'm glad I met you," Edwin says. "So I didn't turn out like that. We should stick together, all the 'queer' people, because we are all human and if we keep judging each other, we're never going to change society."

"You sure you don't want to start giving speeches, darling? You can be an activist within the community."

Edwin shakes his head. "I really just want to live my life. But I'm not going to be ashamed of you or shut up while people are being stupid."

"A respectable decision. You know I mean that, right?"

"I think being happy is also a form of protest," Edwin says. "You make me happy and I'm not going to hide that, and I think that's enough."

***

One more chapter left!