He’s never been to a gay pride march before, but he supposes this is what he should have expected. He’s already received a handful of condoms (conveniently thrown at his face) and some sample sachets of lube.
The pair of them are sunburnt but Xavier is grinning, his face bright. He enjoys being surrounded by people, enjoys being recognised. His face has been kissed by men and women alike, he’s seen tattoos of their cross, their logo, embedded forever on people’s skin.
As they sit in the small cafe and touch at each other’s feet beneath the table, they smile down into their food - a large hamburger with curly fries and, for desert, a rainbow slushy.