Ellen ordered him to seek Vincent out, but Edwin still waits for the next weekend. He's not going out midweek, when he has to work the next day, and this way, he can mentally prepare himself for the confrontation. He needs that time because Vincent will tear him to shreds without mercy if he's not honest, if he doesn't know what he's saying and why.

Over the course of the week, the more he thinks about it, the more trepidation stacks up, until it's a wonky tower, more unstable than he feels in Vincent's presence and threatening to crush him when it falls. And fall, it will, because Vincent will push. He always pushes, with or without words. And Edwin will be alone, no Caroline or Eliane to be his refuge when he flees. They won't witness his shame, but without familiar faces, the bar is Vincent's space, not a place where Edwin belongs.

On Friday evening, after dinner, he opens his wardrobe. It's the end of September and autumn has officially started, so Caroline can't criticise him for hiding his body under layers of clothes. He's going out to apologise, not to look nice and attract attention. In fact, he'd rather be invisible until he can catch Vincent. But in an LGBT karaoke bar, what passes for invisible? Since he apparently looks like a straight man.

Edwin clenches his jaw and creases the fabric of his favourite moss green jumper under his fingers. He does not care. He can't trust Vincent's sense of fashion since his standards are so vastly different from his own. And Caroline ... She's right that he never worried much about what to wear, but he's grateful for that. Ellen was never superficial. He doesn't want to impress Vincent. It doesn't matter if he's hiding his assets or if he looks straight. He can apologise without dressing like Vincent. He doesn't have to prove he's gay.

That still stings. Vincent claimed he would never tell anyone who they are, but he constantly stressed how much Edwin looks and acts like a straight man. Is that not invalidating? He's a man attracted to men; that's the definition of being gay. No other requirements.

It takes ten minutes before Edwin settles on his favourite jumper and loose brown slacks. It's comfortable and he needs that today. Vincent can shove his opinion where the sun doesn't shine.

He turns in front of the mirror and studies how he looks from the side. He pulls his shoulders back and straightens his jumper. Confidence is key. Confident and humble, that's how he should approach Vincent. Not feeling guilty for anything he didn't do.

***

When Edwin nears Bonaparte, his dread rises. He's alone, and he's entering the lion's den. With a deep breath - shoulders back - he walks in. The music overwhelms him like an avalanche of sound, without a conversation to distract him and keep up his walls. He glances around, but Vincent isn't anywhere to be seen. Edwin's not sure if that's a relief or a hardship.

He seeks his way to the bar and orders a beer. Perched on a stool, he can observe the entrance and most of the floor, while the wooden counter provides a measure of security in his back. Heads full of hair or shorn or in rare cases balding float over arms and hidden bodies, lapping at the shores of the bar. Edwin's eyes glide over them, but they all blur together. He sees flashes of skin as dark or darker than Vincent's, and glitter and colourful clothes, but not the man himself. Maybe he won't even show up today. This might be his home, but maybe he is skipping this one Friday. Maybe he's not a regular like that and doesn't come on the same day at the same time every week. Edwin glances at his watch. It's still early. He should wait another half hour.

While he sips on his beer, the music doesn't attack his senses anymore, like his brain has given up on pushing back and screaming. Instead, it passes through him in waves, lifting him up and weighing him down. Looking at the crowd, it seems less like a sea where he will drown and more like a lake where he can swim.

When he orders a second beer, the bartender asks: "You here alone?" She's young, with short lilac curls and painted eyelids. If she's the bartender from back in May, she dyed her hair again.

He nods and she hands him his glass. "Just here to look? Or to meet new people?" She smirks. The assumption wiggles into Edwin's thought. He hates it, but he could. If Vincent is not here, he could. The crowd is mixed; he could find an older guy who would be willing to help him out. "You could get on the stage, you know. Always a good conversation starter." She waves at the back of the bar, where there is a karaoke stage and a DJ. Edwin had noticed them before, but as long as nobody was screeching horribly, he had ignored them. He was also a little preoccupied last week.

He grimaces. "I might be a musician, but that doesn't mean I can sing."

The bartender has a tinkling laugh. "Shush, you can't come here without risking your life - or dignity - at least once." She catches the eyes of someone at the bar and holds up her hand. "One moment." Edwin looks over at the stage. It seems like something Vincent would do. He has no shame anyway.

When the girl comes back, she leans on the counter with a challenging grin. "So?"

Edwin shakes his head. "I'm hoping to catch someone I know." Knowing seems too generous to describe his relationship with Vincent, but it's the best he can do.

"Oh? Are they a regular?"

"Yeah. Vincent, if you know him."

"Vincent! Of course I know him. He's not here yet? No worries, he'll come."

"That's good. I wasn't sure."

"You hadn't agreed on a time?"

"Ah, no, I just -" Edwin cuts himself off before he can say: I wanted to see him. That has way too many connotations. And he's not gonna air his dirty laundry by revealing his true reasons.

Despite his silence - or because of it - the bartender winks. "It's like that, I see. If I swung that way, I'd try my chances too." As an afterthought, she adds: "And if I didn't have a girlfriend. But you know, polyamory. She'd be down for it." Edwin's mouth is paralysed. How can he convince her it's not like that? She continues: "If you succeed, be good to him. He's had enough bad experiences, being as open as he is, and we are very protective of our darling."

Open. That's one word for it. Why does everyone like him so much? Then again, if he's had bad experiences, not everyone likes him. Definitely not the homophobes. Edwin settles on: "I'll do my best."

The bartender grins: "And you're in luck, he's there!" She waves at someone over his shoulder and when he turns, Vincent strolls through the masses like Moses parting the Red Sea, smiling and waving at a dozen different people.

"Helen. Looking lovely tonight, I see!" Edwin tenses up. He glances down at the counter, at his left hand that is rhythmically clenching on his knee, but when he looks up, Vincent is still focused on Helen.

"As do you! You even have an admirer waiting." Their gazes meet and Vincent's eyes widen. Edwin's hand stays clenched around his knee like a claw.

Vincent is fast to shake off his surprise and smiles with a sharp edge. "Edwin, darling, already missing me?"

"I wanted to talk to you." A statement, not a question. Is he making this apology about himself? "Could we ... uhm?"

"Talk? We can arrange that." He winks. "Helen? A virgin mojito, please." He leans against the bar in front of Edwin. The make-up transforms his eyes into a sultry gaze, but not predatory. Nonetheless, Edwin feels no less scrutinised and puny than if he'd sat there naked. He is not prepared for this, even though he has grown to expect Vincent's intensity. The music pounds in his temples.

Once Vincent has his drink, he offers: "You want some privacy?"

Edwin nods. "I'd appreciate that. I ..." No, he should wait until they have some privacy before he says his piece.

"Let's go. I'd go outside, but it's too cold for that." Edwin glances at Vincent's shirt with see-through sleeves. The sequins catch the light and accentuate his subtle muscle tone. Edwin shivers.

There's no true privacy in a busy bar, but they find a place close to the wall where nobody will easily overhear them since they are all talking in their own groups.

"So why did you want to talk to me? Don't tell me you've changed your mind about me and are interested." Vincent cocks an eyebrow and his lips curl into a flirty smirk.

"That's not ..." Edwin exhales. Vincent is just riling him up. "I wanted to apologise. I was ... I talked to my wife - ex - and daughters and they, uhm, shared your opinion on make-up. I judged you too harshly and well, I thought I should apologise for saying what I did."

Vincent's eyebrows steadily climb higher while Edwin stumbles over his words. How is he supposed to be coherent when the man is dissecting his words and face like that?

Edwin crosses his arms. "But I think you should apologise as well."

Vincent's eyebrows rise impossibly higher. "Why should I apologise?"

"For judging me and making me feel unwelcome in this space." Edwin straightens so he has a little bit of height over Vincent. He doesn't elaborate because this should be enough. He would be stripping off layers that guard vulnerable pieces of himself that he doesn't want to show anyone, least of all Vincent. Vincent's all-knowing gaze might pierce through armour, but Edwin will fight for this even if it's hopeless.

Vincent tilts his head. "Alright, I can see why you would say that. At least the second part because you sure proved my judgement right, even if you are apologising now." Fair enough. Edwin can live with that. "I'm honestly sorry that I made you feel unwelcome. Even if you were straight, you would be welcome here. I should know better than anyone not to judge people on how they express their identity. I really meant it when I said I don't want to tell you or anyone that they're right or wrong about who they are."

Edwin couldn't care less about Vincent's opinion of him and yet, those words soothe him. The ultimate gay man, who screams it to the world, accepts him, so now he has passed an unknown test. "I will take that lesson to heart as well. I'm sorry for my comments about make-up."

Vincent opens and closes his mouth before he replies: "I won't say it's fine because it's really not, but you're forgiven, darling. An apology is more than I've gotten from any white cishet type before. Goes to show the good influence of your gayness." His slow smile is teasing and Edwin chuckles at the joke it is. He's starting to understand he should take Vincent a little less seriously.

"And my wife and daughters. Always knew Ellen was smarter than me and your children are bound to be smarter than you."

"Behind every great man is a greater woman. Isn't that what they say?"

"I think they usually just talk about a great woman, but chances are she'll be greater than the man."

"I'm glad we can agree on that, sugar. You've got some internalised misogyny to work through, but your heart is in the right place."

Edwin reminds himself that this is constructive criticism, not an attack. "I always thought of myself as a feminist," he admits. "But apparently I don't understand."

"Honey, of course you did. You understand the basic stuff just fine. It's the subconscious subtle bits that are hard and those are really fucking insidious. You don't think I didn't have to fight internalised prejudice, did you, sweetie?"

He did think that. Vincent doesn't seem like someone who could ever be ashamed of who they are. He has always known who he is, never had to fight himself. But apparently, that's an illusion. "How did you overcome it?"

"A lifetime of learning, sugar. There's no other way. Confronting my biases, accepting myself, asking why. It's work, sweetheart. Are you prepared to put in the work?" Vincent's eyebrows rise. His eyes shine in the light, bigger than they normally are.

An automatic "yes" almost slips out, but Edwin holds it in. He's here to apologise, yes, but this goes further. On the other hand, if he says no, he's going right back where he came from. "Will you teach me?" he parrots.

Vincent breaks into a startled laugh. "You keep surprising me, darling. You want me to teach you? Me?"

"You're the one who keeps saying I'm wrong." It only occurs to Edwin now that he could have asked someone else to teach him. Kim, Eliane, or even Caroline. But maybe learning from the most opinionated of them all will be good. Someone whose friendship he doesn't desire.

Vincent laughs. "That I do. You sure you can deal with me? I won't hold back on calling you out." Those perfect eyebrows arch again.

"I can take it. I'm not a bigot. If I'm wrong, I want to know and do better."

"That's the spirit, baby!" Vincent turns serious. "I genuinely admire that attitude, actually. Not accepting everything at face value, but willing to change your mind. It's rarer than you'd think."

Flames rise to Edwin's cheeks. "I wish I could disagree, but I've discovered too many homophobes since I came out."

"You could say they came out of the closet." Vincent smirks and a laugh flies out of Edwin's mouth.

"I'm not sure if that's a terrible or a perfect joke."

"It's perfect, darling. Like me." He winks.

"I can see how that joke is as perfect as you." Either terrible or funny.

"As you should! First lesson if I'm gonna be teaching you: my sense of humour is flawless." Another signature smirk.

Edwin's lips curl up. "And if I don't agree, that's my internalised homophobia?"

"What else?" Vincent's eyes are bright, his jaw less tense. "Internal biases can affect every part of your life and behaviour, even your sense of humour." Despite his light tone, Edwin notices the weight of those words.

"That doesn't seem like a joke."

Vincent shrugs ruefully. "It's not. I can't count the number of sexist or racist or homophobic or transphobic jokes I've heard. They might try to play it off as 'just a joke', but nothing exists without context. If it degrades people, it's rarely 'just' a joke."

"I'm not saying that I would ever make jokes like that, but can't it sometimes be just a joke? Not everyone is out to get you."

"You ever heard of power dynamics? If you're a cishet white man, you're privileged as fuck and if you're making fun of people with less privilege than you, you're always punching down, no matter your intentions. Even if it's just perpetuating harmful stereotypes. Unconscious biases, baby. They're everywhere and the less privileged you are, the more you start to notice them. Or you might have them about yourself, as we established."

"It's that bad?"

"Sweetheart, you're so naive. I just agreed to help unmask your biases because of your internalised homophobia. Has your old age affected your memory already?" His last remark flusters Edwin. He jokes about being old all the time, but when Vincent does it, it's different.

"No, I meant -" He stops. "I can't imagine so many people hate themselves. I'm not ashamed."

"But it's never as simple as hate. Some people hate themselves for who they are, but if you think you should be a certain way to be valid or accepted, that's internal bias too. Or judging other people for who and how they are. Unfortunately, a lot of oppressed people have not yet figured out that punching down on other oppressed people to climb up on the social acceptance ladder is not the best strategy." Judging other people for who and how they are. That's what he did. But he doesn't want to be the one to punch down because hearing it like that, it sounds really fucking stupid.

"We should stick together."

"Exactly! Healthy debate is good, but I've been an activist for 20 years and you wouldn't believe how many people waste their time with infighting and then the bigots exploit that and we get nothing done. Not that I'm blameless, but I've got my values that I'm not compromising on and that includes not shutting up. Silence implies compliance and nothing's more deadly than that if you want to change the status quo."

"You're an activist? I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"Fuck, am I becoming predictable?" Vincent's laugh is delighted and Edwin shakes his head.
"So you educate people like me all the time? No wonder you have little patience for it."

"That's got nothing to do with it. Just that this is my time off and my safe space and by the time I get here, I have used up all my patience for people being stupid. So I guess it's got everything to do with you, baby." The jab doesn't sting like before.

"And yet you're willing to help me."

"Must be my masochistic urges." Vincent's sensual smile hits Edwin low in his belly. "But you're not too bad, as long as you're not spewing stupid shit about make-up. It might even be fun to shock you. Scandalise you, even. You don't seem like the adventurous type in bed, so I'm gonna blow your mind! Without actually blowing you."

Edwin wants to deny Vincent's statement, but the heat on his cheeks at the last addition betrays him. "Is shock value what you need to set me straight?"

"Never straight, darling, never straight. But a little shock value might burst open those gay glitter balls inside you." Sweat gathers in Edwin's neck. Is that another innuendo? It's Vincent, after all, who seems to wear seduction like a diaphanous dress, curling around him in spirals that capture the eyes of his audience.

Vincent's voice reclaims his attention. "For maximum shock value, I should take you to a gay sauna."

"A sauna? That doesn't seem shocking."

Vincent chuckles. "Believe me, you wouldn't believe what goes on in there. It's not any sauna, sweetheart, it's a gay sauna. But that might be a little much for your first time."

Edwin suddenly catches on and yeah, he'd prefer ... something tamer. "Do you want to ... take me somewhere? For this? This conversation is not enough?"

"If I'm educating you, I'm gonna do it properly, darling. Queer history, the gay scene, that stuff. Maybe homework too." He grins.

"I don't think I need that much of a teacher. But the other stuff is fine, I think."

"Don't worry, darling, it's just gonna be some reading and watching material. No exercises in gayness. And I won't punish you if you refuse. Except if you like that, maybe. Surprise me."

"I ... don't think I will do that. But I'd like to learn more about gay culture? I guess?"

The whole time they've been talking, Vincent has kept a polite distance, but now his hand lands on Edwin's shoulder and its warmth speeds through his whole body. "Excellent, honey, we can work with that! I love a curious man."

Edwin swallows. Let's do this.