But Vincent wanted more than friendship. He wanted to be coming home from a date, Wesley’s head on his shoulder because they were going to climb into bed together later and wake up tangled in each other’s limbs the next morning. There were people in this city who would judge them for that; he had known them, grown up with them, felt their conviction like sand trapped under his nails and a constant eternal buzz in his ears, even when they hadn’t known it was him they were judging.
