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Shoving his flag into his rucksack upside down, Shiro wanders through the dark city streets. Pride is over, and everyone is heading home. And Shiro isn’t the only one who has decided to take precautions on the way home; all over the city, he spots people walking away from the pride parade, throwing their flags and badges in trash cans, putting flag-patterned items in their bags, and some even wiping face paint from their faces as they look into their pocket mirrors, their happy expressions from earlier in the day replaced with anxiety.
Which reminds him: Shiro needs to take his makeup off too. Not because he’s going home to somewhere where they won’t react well to seeing him covered in bisexual pride flags, but because he doesn’t fancy getting beaten up on his way home. So he pulls a packet of wipes out of his bag and scrubs the dry paint from his face as he walks, moving into more secluded streets on his way to the train station.
Shiro has to sigh, so annoyed about this. He’s been to pride five times now, and every time the fun ends the moment the parade does. Because the homophobes in the world don’t go away just because everyone has been having fun, and he has to be as cautious as ever that no one hurts him just for being bi.
He picks up his pace and soon has arrived at the train station. Shiro grabs his return ticket and gets onto the platform, rather freaked out by how empty the place is. To be honest, it’s a relief when the train arrives, because at least the train is lit and warm and has a driver. So Shiro jumps onto the train and sits in the middle of the very back carriage, putting his bag on the seat next to him.
He expects the carriage to stay empty, but Shiro is surprised when another guy steps into his carriage. This guy is short and skinny and probably a few years younger than him, his dark hair almost like a mullet, and his hands are shoved inside his trouser pockets, his body language tense and defensive. His face is painted, a rainbow flag on one cheek and an asexual flag on the other. And he looks nervous, chewing on his bottom lip as he slumps into a seat.
“Hey,” Shiro says, trying to make conversation.
The guy looks over and smiles quickly. “Hi.”
“Have you been to pride?”
“Um… yeah,” the guy says, and he flinches as though expecting to be yelled at.
But Shiro simply reaches into his pocket and takes out his bisexual pride flag badge. “Me too.”
“How can you tell?”
“Your face paint is a bit of a giveaway,” Shiro says.
The young guy sits up straight, staring at him. without speaking, he touches his face, feeling the dry paint beneath his fingertips. And then his eyes widen, and Shiro hopes he isn’t going to have a panic attack. He swears and rummages through his rucksack.
“You okay, man?” Shiro says.
But the guy doesn’t answer. He finds what he was looking for: a packet of tissues. He starts to scrub at his face, but all this does is make his skin sore. He swears again, gritting his teeth.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not!” the guy snaps, his teeth still gritted. “I can’t go home looking like this. I can’t…”
And Shiro knows exactly what this poor man means. He remembers his own childhood, the scorn, the fear to be who he is. And this stranger must be currently living in the sort of place Shiro managed to escape from. And that’s why he’s freaking out; he’s worried for his safety.
“It would’ve been fine if I was at college, but no, this had to fall during spring break,” the guy says, his voice too fast, and Shiro thinks he’s talking to himself more than anyone else. “And that means back home with mom and dad, and back home pretending to be someone I’m not. Having to throw away my badges and flags so they don’t know where I mean, but that doesn’t mean a thing if I can’t get this stuff off.”
He scrubs at his face again, rubbing in a futile attempt to get the paint off of his face. But the dry paint won’t shift, and all he achieves is bright red skin and an increasingly desperate expression.
“Hey… hey, calm down,” Shiro says, moving to sit opposite the guy. “It’s okay. I understand. My folks used to be like that too. I know how much it sucks. Really. And… and I can help.”
“You can?” the guy says, his head snapping up to look at Shiro, sudden hope in his eyes.
Shiro reaches for his packet of wipes and hands it to him. “Here, these’ll get that paint off for you. They got mine off just fine.”
The guy smiles and pulls a wet wipe from the packet. He starts to rub it against his face, and the paint gradually disappears. When he is finally free of the paint, he grins despite still looking close to tears, and returns the packet with shaky hands.
“Thank you,” he says. “Thanks so much. Really, thank you.”
Shiro chuckles weakly. “It’s okay. I’m glad I could help. I just wish…” he trails off, not wanting to sound silly.
“You wish what?”
He sighs. “I was gonna say I wish I could stop you having to live with homophobes, but that’s silly. I mean, I don’t even know your name.”
The young guy laughs, but his eyes shine. “That’s real nice. And… I’m Keith.”
Shiro smiles. “Well, Keith, I’m glad I could help in some way.”
When the train jolts, Shiro realises that the journey started a few minutes ago. He was so engrossed with helping Keith that he didn’t even notice when the train started moving.
For the rest of the journey, they sit together and chat. Shiro learns that Keith recently learned that he is asexual, and feels proud of his newly discovered identity. He learns that Keith is an English Lit major at college, and shares a room with a guy called Hunk who has a habit of bringing his boyfriend around. And he learned that this was Keith’s first pride parade, and he loved the experience until he remembered that he had to go home. And Keith learns a lot about Shiro too.
Soon, the train is pulling into the station at Shiro’s stop, and he grabs his bag.
“Well, bye, Keith,” he says, smiling.
“Bye, Shiro,” Keith says, and he pulls Shiro into a tight hug.
Shiro stumbles, shocked, but he hugs Keith back. They’ve known each other for less than an hour, but Shiro feels a strong connection to him, as though he and Keith are kindred spirits.
But then he has to leave, stepping off of the train. As he leaves the platform, he sees Keith waving at him. He waves back, and smiles.