Edwin ruminates on his crush and the charity event all week. He barely recognises himself, swinging between pining and jealousy and embarrassment. What was he thinking, trying to flirt back? He's awful at flirting. He never needed to flirt with Ellen, so he has thirty years of relationship experience and about one day of flirting practice. It's ridiculous. How is he ever supposed to ... to seduce someone, convince them he's worth something? How do people do this, if they're not already friends? He and Ellen had mutual friends confirming that yes, she's interested, and she asked him for a kiss. It couldn't have been easier. Even if Vincent wasn't ... Vincent, this would have been so much more complicated.

He tries very hard to be normal on his weekly run with Vincent, but it feels like he's navigating a minefield where he might betray his position with one wrong word, one look or gesture that Vincent will decipher, and then it's game over. Perhaps not that dramatic, but they will be back to the wrong type of tension. Vincent wouldn't want to lead him on, so he'd stop flirting, but it'd weigh on him. Edwin would have no choice but to avoid him, to get over his crush in quiet. But if he does that, he's not sure they can ever go back to the understanding they currently have. It's ridiculous. He's not a teenager, losing friendships over romances.

By the time New Year's Eve rolls around, he's nearly vibrating out of his skin. He needs people, and a good party. Luckily, Caroline has him covered. She has organised a New Year's party for years and Edwin used to attend with Ellen, when Sandra and Tamara were out with their own friends. This year, he's coming over early, mostly for the company but with the excuse to help. They move furniture to open up space in her apartment and find extra chairs and a few foldable cocktail tables. He has brought over half of the drinks and sets up the bottles on the balcony, where the night air will keep them cool.

She asks him about Vincent, but he doesn't tell her she was right about his crush. Not yet. He's not acting on it, so there will be enough time to ask for her best advice on rooting out unrequited crushes. When he told her about Vincent's apology and that Vincent will take him shopping, that only strengthened her belief that he has a chance, but Vincent is a good friend. He would apologise to his friends, not only to his crushes as some tit for tat. So he only tells her that he went to the charity meal and it was nice, he's going to help out again and doesn't she want to volunteer too sometime? He's sure she'll be able to help with something.

"I'll think about it," she promises. "How are your other crises?"

"I've been thinking."

"Dangerous."

Edwin huffs. He's been thinking about what he told Kamil, about what Leo told him, what Vincent told him. Why do other people's opinions matter? It could just be something for himself. Something only he knows, he and a trusted friend. As far as trusted friends go, only Ellen would come before Caroline, but this seems more like something Caroline will just go along with.

"I want to try something," he admits. His voice doesn't tremble. Neither do his hands. "Something other than the clothes." Because those will just be normal clothes. He won't let Vincent dress him in anything else.

Caroline perks up. "What do you want to try? Am I involved?"

"I hope so. I was thinking ... Nail polish is not a big deal. And if it was on my toes, nobody would see it or know it was there. It'd be just for me. To know how it feels."

"And you want me to paint your toenails?" Edwin nods. "What colour?"

"Uh, I don't know. Not too ... flashy?" Oh god, he didn't think this through. Colours?!

Caroline jumps up and strides to the hallway. "I'll just show you all my colours. Come on."

"What? Now?"

"When else? The perfect time is always now. You can sit at home with your painted nails or you can be at a party, but it's not going to be any different. If you want to admire them, you'll have a few more hours before guests start arriving."

Edwin barely has a chance to be nervous before Caroline makes him sit down on a chair in her bathroom and holds out different bottles of nail polish. "Probably no red? Very classic, but I don't think that's your colour." Edwin shakes his head mutely. "Black? Might be a bit depressive, but also classy. Blue? Ooh, dark green. Your favourite colour, isn't it? Matches your sweater. What do you think?"

"That seems fine." Edwin doesn't want to choose because every moment that passes gives him a moment more to chicken out. Though at this point, Caroline might not let him. He takes off his shoes and socks and puts his naked feet on the cool bathroom floor.

Caroline sniffs from a distance. "Smells clean. Acceptable. This is real teen girls best friend sleep-over. At least according to American movies. I certainly never painted anyone else's nails."

"You're not ... going to do anything wrong, are you?"

"Don't worry, doing yours can't be harder than doing mine, as long as you don't twitch. I can do both my hands and that's much harder."

Caroline pulls a stool over so she can sit, too, and Edwin holds very still when his left foot is in her lap. It's so weird, and awkward. He owes Caroline a drink.

She opens a bottle and starts covering his nails, but it has no colour. "Is this ...?"

"It's a base coat. Protects your nails and makes the surface smoother."

"Oh."

She covers all his nails one by one and lets the base coat dry. It feels ... Well, he can't really feel anything, but psychologically, it feels weird. There is the phantom touch of Caroline's hands and he imagines the base coat as a minuscule weight on his nails.

Caroline rolls the bottle with nail polish between her hands. "I hope you're aware this is going to take a while, by the way. You need two layers of this and a top coat, and everything needs to dry in-between."

Edwin checks his watch. It's only 6:30 pm and the party starts at 8 pm. "At least you're not bored to death now, waiting for the party to start."

"The worst," Caroline says. She opens the bottle and Edwin shuts up and almost forgets to breathe as she puts the little brush on his big toe nail. It's a really nice green colour and it seems like magic to see his nails transform and disappear under a layer of nail polish. When Caroline sets down his left foot, carefully keeping his toes away from the floor, he startles.

"You doing okay?" Edwin nods and Caroline paints the nails on his right foot with the same concentration. Definitely a good thing he didn't ask Vincent to do this.

By the second layer, it feels less weird that Caroline is holding his foot, that his nails are now moss green. Edwin takes deep breaths. It's not so bad, the awareness of his nails. He doesn't ... Well, he does feel different, but not fundamentally changed. It's a stupid thought. Of course he's still himself. Painted nails won't make him gay. Gayer.

He exhales heavily. Caroline shoots him a look but continues with the last nails. It's not a big deal. Nobody will know. Only Caroline and she doesn't care. Or rather, she cares, but positively. She's excited when he tries new things. She won't be disappointed when he wants to take the nail polish off.

"How do I remove it?"

"You already want it gone?" Caroline teases.

"No, I just ... want to know."

"I think it's easiest if I do it for you. I have nail polish remover. But please try to last at least a day. I don't want to start off the New Year with your feet in my lap."

Edwin chuckles. "Promise. I will survive, even if I don't like it."

Caroline applies the top coat and that one dries very fast. Edwin stands up and looks down at his feet, curling his toes. They almost don't look like his feet, but they are. This is him. Him with an extra layer of colour. A little more feminine. Part of him wants to cover it up as fast as he can, forget it's there, that he did this. Another part of him wants to show Ellen, or Sandra or Tamara. They'd like it.

He puts on his socks and his shoes again. His fingers struggle to tie his laces properly and there's a tremor in his legs when he walks to the kitchen. If he can't get a grip, people will see something's the matter even if they can't see his nails. Be normal, he reminds himself. It's just nail polish. It doesn't have to mean anything, not if he doesn't want it to mean anything. It's neutral. Even if people who saw it would think it's feminine, that's not something negative. Femininity doesn't make him lesser. And nobody will see. Nobody will think any lesser of him.

They eat dinner and Edwin keeps wiggling his toes inside his shoes, as if they're going to freeze or fall off. He's very aware of them when he steps, when he takes the snacks out of the fridge. He looks down again and of course he can only see his shoes. They won't suddenly become see-through.

When the guests start arriving, he's so busy greeting and serving drinks that for a while, he actually forgets about the nail polish. The awareness startles back into him when he's getting himself a drink in the kitchen. There are people here too, but it's slightly quieter than in the living room, less people packed so close you can hardly move around the room. Caroline invited a lot of people, friends from secondary school whom Edwin only ever sees at these parties, mutual friends from university, people who became solely Ellen's friends in the divorce, people from Bonaparte, strangers. Some guests brought their children and he has set up a corner where they can play and talk, even though he has no illusions they will be crawling under tables and hiding in the bedroom. They've tried to lock up everything breakable, everything that sticky child hands would grab and put in their pockets.

It feels almost exactly the same as it did in previous years. He's here without Ellen now, he has painted toe nails, but nobody is treating him differently. They've greeted him and moved on to greet other people, and he has stuck with the people he knows are gay or bi because those feel safer now.

He doesn't want to answer questions about his sexuality today, not when his mind has created a shortcut to his green nails. It's tiring and he wants to have fun. He's feeling good and surrounded by people he likes and he wants to start off the year with a great night, happy with his friends. Start as you intend to go on.

As he talks and starts feeling the alcohol, he thinks Vincent had a point, about living life as his fullest self. Sure, he's gay, but he's still the person he was before he realised that. Gay people also have partners, maybe children, friends, fun. He doesn't need to change anything. He's already gay! Whatever he changes, it doesn't change him. The nail polish, or the clothes, what do they matter? He's making this out to be such a big thing, when he really should stop caring.

He can experiment. That doesn't change who he is as a man. He could play basketball with his painted nails and it wouldn't matter. He's talking about sports right now, and he's still one of the guys, even if Caroline painted his nails a few hours earlier like stereotypical teenage girls. His close female friends might be the one gay stereotype he adheres to, but it has never kept him from being a masculine man, too. Nobody has ever mentioned it.

So what that he's gay? There's plenty of people who are not like his parents, not like his old basketball team. They don't care. It's just the gender of his partner. It's just nail polish. He doesn't even care about the nail polish. If he wants his nails to be plain, he's still gay. He's still a man with a job and a family and hobbies.

"Edwin! Happy New Year! Still a little early, but we're not gonna split hairs about those last few hours, are we?" Hilde kisses him on both cheeks. She's wearing bright red lipstick and heels that put her at the same height as him. "Where's Ellen? She isn't sick, I hope?"

"No, she ... we ..." Edwin digs through his memory. Doesn't she know? Didn't Ellen tell her? Nobody else here has asked him about Ellen or his coming-out. "We divorced this year. Ellen is at home. Watching the New Year's conference, I believe."

"You divorced? Since when?! What happened?"

Edwin looks around at the guys next to him, Ellen's friends and husbands of Ellen's friends. They should know, don't they? "I'm gay," he says and it comes out easily, no trepidation. Yes, he is, and he's still the Edwin they know. Nothing has changed.

"Oh," Hilde says and she searches for something to say.

"It was an amicable divorce. We're still friends."

"That's great. Must be an adjustment, right? I imagine not everyone can stay friends in such a situation." Edwin shrugs. "So do you have a new partner now? Is he here? I have a cousin who is gay, you know. But he's still single. I don't think he puts in much effort to find someone."

"I don't have a partner," Edwin says. He's interested in someone, but that's none of her business. She'd keep asking questions, and she wouldn't understand why Vincent wouldn't go for someone like him. She'd probably be surprised there are actual, real-life people like Vincent, that it's not a TV caricature.

"Isn't it a little weird?" Ivo asks. "I can't imagine being attracted to a man. And you were with Ellen for so long."

"I can't compare that." Not when he only knows his own experience, when he didn't know for so long that his attraction to Ellen was not the attraction other men felt towards women. "It is what it is. There are probably men out there who are just as little attracted to women as you are to men." He doesn't want to talk about this, not with these people. He doesn't want to be the guy they ask all their questions. He doesn't want to be the gay friend, like Hilde's gay cousin, who they might tell their friends or wives is still single and who didn't know he wasn't attracted to his wife, haha, can you imagine? That's just weird; you know or you don't. He will no longer be Edwin, Ellen's husband, but he will be Edwin, Ellen's ex, who didn't know he was gay. Their one gay friend, who they fully support, of course.

That's what Kamil was talking about. He doesn't want to be that one guy. His sexuality should be a non-issue, not something that sets him apart. It doesn't define who he is because he has lived for almost 57 years and he knew who he was then. He's still that person, just with added knowledge about himself, but everyone learns new things about themselves. It's just that this is all that everyone can see now.

Is that what it's like for Vincent? All everyone can see are his make-up, his clothes, his appearance. That he's feminine, different. That's what Edwin saw, for so long. That's how he still sometimes thinks about Vincent, as someone who is different. Maybe Vincent doesn't want that either. Sure, there's the protest and provocation, but maybe, in an ideal world, he would just want to exist. Live as his fullest self, without judgement, without needing a shield against criticism and bigotry. Vincent, too, is a full person, no less than Edwin. He shouldn't forget that.

Even if Vincent is special, but that might be his crush speaking.

He migrates back to his acquaintances from Bonaparte, where Caroline is, too.

"Having fun?" she asks.

"I'm doing great!" He feels loose and confident and his earlier thoughts already feel far away, left behind with his and Ellen's old friends. There is no space to wallow when everyone's happiness permeates the room, when he has maybe drunk a little more than he should.

"Found someone to kiss at midnight?" Gert jokes. He is standing on Edwin's other side and one of the people from Bonaparte. Edwin barely knows him, but he seems like a nice guy. He has a well-groomed beard, might be a few years younger, with lean muscle like Vincent and long fingers that are holding his glass. Edwin wouldn't mind touching his chest.

"Are you offering?" he parrots. He can hardly believe the words coming out of his mouth, but he's floating on the noise of the crowd, on the alcohol in his veins. Anything could happen here. He can flirt. It might not be good, but if he never does it, he won't get better. It doesn't matter that Vincent might still never be interested. Vincent isn't here to judge him, to tease him. It doesn't mean anything, he doesn't want anything. There's no pressure here.

"Seems like I am," Gert says.

Caroline subtly nudges his back and Edwin steps a little closer. They're almost touching now and since they're about the same height, he can look directly in Gert's eyes. They're light brown, surrounded by wrinkles.

"Why did you not yet have a partner to kiss if that's what you wanted?" he asks. "There are plenty of people here who might be willing." There are not that many single gay or bi men among Caroline's friends, but still a fair few. Gert wouldn't need to pick Edwin, a guy he barely knows.

"I wasn't looking. But if I get the chance to kiss a handsome man, I'm not going to say no. Seems like a good start to the year."

"I agree." Edwin lets himself look, deliberately, the way Vincent has done to him. It has been an eventful year, so it seems fitting that he'll end it kissing a man and start the new year kissing a man. There is something satisfying in that, a confirmation of his self-discovery. It might not be Vincent, but it doesn't need to be Vincent. Maybe this is what he needs to get over him.

"Like what you see?" Gert says and he preens a little.

"Would I have said yes if I didn't?"

"Well, I don't know what your standards are. Maybe you are so desperate you'll take anything you can get." Gert's tone is light and it washes over Edwin.

"I've waited 56 years to kiss a man. I think I can wait a little longer if the alternative is to lower my standards."

"You haven't kissed anyone yet since you came out?"

Edwin shrugs, a flush creeping up his cheeks. "Not really been in a position. I've just been trying to make new friends."

"Alright. I'll be honoured then. Try not to mess it up for you."

"Can't be so bad. It's just a kiss. I have kissed before. I really don't mean to put any pressure on you."

Gert waves that away. "It's fine. I'm joking."

"Okay." It's still at least ten minutes until midnight and Edwin doesn't know how to continue the flirting. It'd be awkward to kiss now, wouldn't it? But it'd be worse standing around not doing or saying anything at all. "Do you want to find a spot with a little less people?" Something more secluded, where not everyone can look on.

"Sure. Lead the way."

The best they can do is the kitchen because the balcony is too cold. Edwin gets both of them a glass of water to wash out the taste of alcohol. He takes his time, stretching the minutes until midnight.

"How long have you known Caroline?" he asks and he picked the right question because that gives them five minutes of small talk, longer. He ends his story of how he and Caroline are travelling together this summer, in Austria, and it's two minutes to midnight, maybe one. He doesn't have a digital clock, only his old-fashioned watch. He sets his glass down on the counter with a clink.

"How punctual are you?" Gert asks.

"Rather too early than too late," Edwin says, and they lean in, kiss.

He mostly notices the beard, which scratches around his lips, against his chin. They let go and reconnect to find a better position. He breathes in the warmth of Gert's skin, Gert's breath in his mouth. He reaches out a hand to clasp Gert's shoulder and Gert touches his hips. It's a nice kiss. He hasn't kissed anyone in almost a year, since he came out to Ellen. He has missed it, to be able to show affection in such an intimate way. This might not mean much to either of them, not be something that could be called 'affection', but it still says: "Hey, you're pretty cool. You look good. I like you."

For one long second, he misses Ellen viscerally. He wants to hug her, bury his nose in her hair, tell her how much he loves her, always. Even if he's kissing other people now. For so long, she was the only person he kissed, as familiar to him as his own body. He wonders if she's changed, if there are new aches in her body, new likes and dislikes that he won't learn now.

Distantly, he hears everyone cheer and wish a happy New Year. He could step back, but he's not ready to say anything yet, so he renews the kiss. Who knows when he'll have this chance again, if he sticks to his "no hookup" rule. Certainly not with Vincent, even if he might want to.

Well, that's not true. Vincent would probably kiss him if he asked. He'd tease Edwin, but he'd do it. It just would be as meaningful as this kiss, and if he kisses Vincent, he wants it to mean something. He wants Vincent to know why.

It'd be a great kiss, though, even if it was a one-off. Vincent doesn't have a beard, so it'd be less unfamiliar than this kiss, and he has very full lips. Edwin bets he'd be a good kisser. Seductive, fun, skilled. He'd figure out what Edwin liked. Maybe it'd be worth it.

Maybe if he kisses Vincent and is rejected, he will be able to get over him. Maybe he needs to shoot his shot, so he won't be stuck hoping, despite knowing better. And then, finally, he will find the confidence to ask out a guy who won't reject him. This wasn't so bad, so he can do that again. He can do a little flirting, a joke. He will stop being irrationally jealous when Vincent is his flirty self with other men. Without his attraction between them, they could be better friends.

He breaks the kiss. "That was nice."

Gert shoots him a crooked smile. "I agree."

"We keep it at this, right? Just a kiss for fun."

"Sure. Let's go wish our friends a happy New Year."