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“Exactly.” Will nodded. “If I could step through a portal into any strand of the multiverse, another life where I would be straight, I don’t think I could do it. What would that life even look like?”
“The most clapped timeline.”
“I wouldn’t have met you. Can you imagine! My best friend, erased, just like that,” Will continued, caught up in his own thought experiment. “I wouldn’t have found drag either. Who would I even be?”
“I can see straight you now,” said Jordan. “All tribal tattoos and missionary.” He shuddered emphatically.
“Couldn’t be me,” said Will. “I would always choose this life. The frocks and glitter and poppers and Kylie and, yes, the crying and the fighting, too. I’d choose all of it. I love all of it. Why rob myself of that? I like myself enough to know I deserve that much.”
“It’s the least of what you deserve,” said Jordan. “Everyone makes out like being queer makes your life harder. What are they on about? It makes it better. I’m just going to say it. We’re better.”
Jordan took the vape from Will’s hand and inhaled on it deeply. It was a small, intimate act, but when he released the cloud from his mouth, it felt like all of the tension between them dissipated with it. Will pulled him into a hug, ignoring Jordan’s protests about his hair, and marveled at the simple joy he felt in holding his friend. No wonder people were always mistaking them for a couple. They were soulmates, in their own way.
“I love you,” he said. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Bit dramatic,” Jordan sniffed.
“I’m a drag queen. I reserve the right to be dramatic.”
He felt Jordan relax into him, like a spring uncurling, and Will thought: Maybe this is enough. A good man loves me after all.
“Just think,” said Jordan, still mid-embrace. “If you hadn’t been such a crap shag all those years ago, we never would have become best friends.”
“You were just as crap, my love,” Will laughed. “And yes, we would. Some things are written in the stars.”
They stayed like that for who even knew how long, the tallest woman and the prettiest boy, clutching each other in the doorway to a gay bar like sweethearts on a dance floor who didn’t ever want the night to end.
Chapter 32
Patrick had seen his fair share of soulless conference hotels doing press tours and junkets over the years, but the venue for this year’s LGBTQIA VIP Awards, a Ramada near the airport, was one of the sadder contenders.
“I’m still not entirely sure what I’m doing here,” he said, trailing Simone into the ballroom, a vast white space that had been spruced up with a handful of potted plants and rainbow banners. “Isn’t this just going to start even more rumors?”
“Think about it,” said Simone. “Would a guy who’s in the closet attend such a high-profile LGBTQ+ event? No, of course he wouldn’t, it would draw way too much attention. But a straight guy who’s comfortable with his sexuality and believes all people deserve love and respect?” She patted him on the back. “That guy buys a plate.”
“So I can’t walk down the street with another man,” Patrick said slowly, trying to follow Simone’s logic, “but I can attend a queer awards ceremony?”
“We’re playing 4D chess here,” Simone told him. “Here! This is our table.”
Simone waved a hand and took a glass of champagne from a passing tray while Patrick poured them each a glass of water from the bottles on the table.
“I usually wouldn’t dream of putting you in the same room as this many Netflix-tier celebrities,” she said, disdainfully side-eyeing the table next to them. “But you’ve been so down lately, I thought it would do you good to get out of the house. Be around the community.”
“That’s…sweet,” said Patrick. He understood that Simone meant well. And even if nobody else here knew the real him, being in the room was enough to make him feel just a little less isolated. He took a sip of water and grabbed a program from the table.
“Wait a minute.” He frowned. “It says here I’m up for an award.”
“Hmm?” His manager’s lack of a reaction was, in itself, a reaction.
“Simone. What did you do.”
“I may have put you forward for something.”
“Simone.” Patrick prodded the piece of paper in front of him. “You have nominated me for Ally of the Year.”
“And?”
“And…I didn’t do anything!”
