'How much longer are you gonna be in there?'

Just when I think he's not heard me over the running shower, Ziri answers, 'Almost done.'

'It's been like forty minutes. I have to shower too.' No response. 'Are you having a wank?' I stride from the doorway and pull back the shower curtain to find him blowing soap bubbles through a circle he's made with his thumb and index finger. 'Ziri, we have reservations! Sonia's gonna kill us if we're late.'

He drops his jaw wide open. 'What if I was masturbating? And you just barged right in. Also, it's my birthday.'

'Aye, and xe's come all the way from Ireland to hang out with ya. Xe'll kill us if we're late.' Shaking his head, he blows a new soap bubble between his fingers. 'Ziri.'

'If you're in such a hurry, there's space here for you.' He gestures at the rest of the bathtub behind him.

'I'm not showering with you. Last time I tried to shower with you, I almost fainted.'

Ziri splashes water at me and I pretend to be burnt as if it's boiling. 'You're the one who showers like you're preparin to move to the frickin Arctic.' He groans, turning the temperature up out of spite. 'Fine. Give me two minutes. I have to wash the soap off.'

            We've eaten at the same Ghanaian restaurant for Ziri's four last birthdays. There are no Beninese restaurants in Brighton and at least it's West African and halal. "Same difference," Ziri says. Ziri don't tell his mum about it.

We arrive one minute late. Sonia and Amal are waiting for us in front of the restaurant, Sonia already frantically checking xyr phone for texts that we've cancelled whilst Amal leans against the brick wall beside the door, manipulating a star out of a loop of yarn and her fingers as she tries half-heartedly calm xyr down.

They met at uni. Amal did an exchange semester at Bath and because they're the most stereotypical lesbians on Earth, when she went back to Ireland, Sonia decided to go with her even though they'd known each other for two months. Sonia's finishing xyr architecture studies at the local university in their middle-of-nowhere Irish town where they live some idealistic quasi-farm life. Because they're breathing lesbian stereotypes, Sonia crochets and Amal does gardening — not that you'd guess by looking at either of them.

Sonia's autism makes xyr averse to wearing owt woollen or knitted but xe spends all xyr time crocheting because xe enjoys the repetitive physical task. Which is why the rest of us have wardrobes overflowing with jumpers, cardigans, and socks. Not that I'd complain; they're all very comfortable. Xe's wearing a peach dress and pink trench coat that people might be offended by because xe's chubby and it don't "suit xyr body", which is nonsense because it suits xyr perfectly.

Amal is currently dressed in a plaid maxi skirt decorated with safety pins, black platform boots, and her studded black khimar. The wings of her eyeliner nearly reach the edge of the headscarf. She don't look like someone who could give an hour lecture about the various benefits of dandelions without requiring any preparation, but she could and probably will.

Both Ziri and I quicken our pace to reach them faster. We've not seen them since November. And I know we have Facebook and Skype and whatnot, but I just can't talk to people online — it's awkward.

Ekow greets us by name when we enter the restaurant. The staff know us well enough to let us eat in a small private room that were probably a storage closet at some point so that Sonia won't be overstimulated by the noise. Though I don't see how xe don't get overstimulated by Ziri and Amal in any room; they speak so fast that I can't even figure out what they're talking about.

'It is peak cinema!' Ziri argues. 'There is nothin that is more camp than the pure genius of Metrosexuality.'

'Right? And this was 2001. Fuck Queer as Folk, Metrosexuality was a non-white queer utopia masking as satire. I have never been happier than I was watching that.'

Ziri snaps his fingers in agreement. 'Ya Allah! Or should I say, yaaas Allah.'

'That's disgusting. Never speak to me again. In fact, don't even look at me.'

If someone pokes their head into the room, they would think they're arguing but this is just how they speak to each other.

He turns to me beaming, 'The main character is half Leedsian. Leedsener? Leeds...ish. He's half from Leeds, half Londoner.'

'That is reet blasphemy, that.' I feign horror even as my chest warms from his effort to include me, to make this thing I have never heard of more relatable to me. 

'So,' Ziri starts after a moment of silence. 'Have you adopted a pet goat yet?'

Amal smirks. 'Sonia wants to.'

Sonia slaps her with xyr laminated menu. 'Don't tell him that! He's gonna make jokes about it and you know I hate his jokes.'

'Ah! You love my jokes! I'm hilarious. You should consider yourself lucky that you get to hear my jokes for free, cause I could be a world-renown comedian by now if I wanted to and then you'd have to pay a hundred quid. Jimmy Carr's sacked, I'd be hostin Big Fat Quiz every year. And I'd be objectively better at it cause I'm not a ragin misogynist.'

'That I'd like to see,' Sonia says sceptically.

Ziri places a palm on his chest and says in a delicate voice, 'I'm too humble to be famous,' only to flick a balled-up piece of his napkin at xyr. 'Don't laugh at that. That wasn't a joke.'

We order our food quickly since we all know the menu by now. We eat here every time we're together to avoid overwhelming anyone with an environment they're not familiar with. Conversation is effortless and by the time our food arrives, my stomach aches from laughter.

Ziri turns to me when the waiter has left. 'You want my eggs?' He orders the same kontomire stew every time but he's always too anxious to ask them to leave off the boiled eggs it's served with. I lift my plate so he can move them onto it.

'So are you staying with your parents?' I ask Sonia after we've sated the worst of our hunger.

Xe nods.

'How's that?'

'Fine. Except they keep asking when we're having kids but we've only been dating for two years so it's annoying.'

'To be fair,' Ziri interjects, 'you did move to another country to be with her after two months so two years is pretty long for y'all.' He gives himself a moment to gloat before he allows himself to gush. 'I think you should have kids right now. We were at Miles' grandparents and they had his baby clothes and I just can't stop thinkin about those tiny baby socks. And I saw toddlers at the park and you know the way they waddle like penguins. I want to cry, it's so adorable. You should have kids. I want to be an auntie — or I mean an uncle, but an auntie in spirit.'

Sonia stares at him, tight-lipped. 'Why don't you have kids then?'

He gasps with great shock. 'Are you suggestin I become a teen dad? This ain't Sixteen and Pregnant.'

'It's your twenty-third birthday.'

'And your point is?'

My laugh congeals in my throat. There's a prickling at the back of my neck as my heart speeds up. As subtly as I can, I look behind me. There's nowt but a wall there, yet I sense the eyes adhered to my skin. There's no one watching me, we're in a closed room and there are no windows. But someone's watching. Someone's watching...

My legs are unsteady when I stand. I excuse myself for the bathroom and thankfully the conversation has already moved on so they don't notice the echo in my voice. Maybe there is no echo and that's just in my head.

Rather than the toilets, I head outside. The February evening cools my skin and I breathe deep. I'm fine. Everything's fine.

As fear fades, confusion takes its place. This same thing happened at the gym yesterday. I had to leave after fifteen minutes and go for a run instead because I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone were staring. At work today, I dropped a packaged lawnmower right on my toes because Thomas walked past and I'd not heard him approach.

I lean against the brick wall. How much time do I have before they notice me missing? Sometimes I wish I smoked so I'd have an excuse to leave social situations regularly — "Hey, I'm gonna go poison myself for a bit", "Yeah, no problem, enjoy!" You can't just tell people you need a moment alone without it being an attack on them.

I need to figure out what's going on with me. Why am I so fucking antsy all of a sudden?

'Are you okay?'

I flinch. Sonia pokes xyr head out the door. When xe sees my likely startled expression, xe steps outside.

'Fine.' Xe clearly don't believe me so I correct, 'I'll be fine.' I move around on the spot: a step left, a step right, stand up on my toes, find sturdy footing, repeat. 'We tried to have sex the other day–'

'You know I'm not interseted in your sex life–'

'I had a panic attack, apparently.'

Sonia's scowl is replaced by curiosity. 'Why?'

Incessantly moving on the spot, I watch xyr watch me. I've never told xyr about Dominic. Ziri is the only person on Earth I've ever told about Dominic. But my chest is so tight, I need to ease it. 'My relationship before Ziri weren't... great. And I thought I'd be over it cause it were ages ago, but... maybe I just didn't have to think about it since we weren't having sex and now it's all...' I motion an eruption with my hands.

'I'm sorry. About the not-great boyfriend.' Sonia stares blankly at me though I know it don't mean xe cares any less. Xe really just has three facial expressions. 'Maybe you should tell Ziri about it...'

A laugh bursts from me. 'You're my friend, Sonia.'

'But I'm not trying to have sex with you so it doesn't really matter to me, to be honest.'

'Ta for the reassurance.'

Xe smiles, round cheeks pushed toward the orange LED lights that frame the restaurant door. The colour gleams against xyr dark skin until xe steps off the doorstep and xyr face returns to its usual brown.

'You don't talk much, you know.'

'Some people consider that a positive trait.'

'It makes it difficult to know you.'

Smiling faintly, I look down at my yellow trainers and draw an arc in the sleet collected along the wall of the building. I've heard that a lot, that I don't put enough effort to stay in touch with people and that I don't participate enough in conversations, but I've just nowt interesting to say. My life is entirely uneventful, there's nowt to "catch up" on. I don't understand world events or the artistic value of a film. Even as a child, I spoke so little that other kids thought I were retarded (their words). I don't understand what I'm s'posed to talk about. What could I possibly contribute? I'm much better at listening, anyway. I've always been a good listener.

'When you came out as non-binary, I thought it meant New Balance,' I say, fully aware I'm proving xyr point.

Xyr face scrunches. 'Why would I send you a text telling you I'm a shoe?'

'I thought maybe you were plastered.' I catch xyr retort before xe can say it. 'I know you don't drink but you live in Ireland now. Maybe you were assimilating.'

Xe shakes xyr head but bites down a smile.

'Next time you text me vital information, write full words at least. I can't keep track of this acronym things and that. And don't–' I point at her '–make a joke about me being old cause you were born in eighty-nine too.'

'Why would I make a joke about it? It wasn't funny the first time he made it and it's not funny five thousand times later.' If Ziri's jokes aren't funny, Sonia's distaste for them always is. But xe gives me no opportunity to laugh before xe pins me down with a sharp stare. 'You need to talk to Ziri. Just because he speaks enough for five people, doesn't mean you never have to.'

I kick at a cluster of ice at the base of the restaurant wall. 'Okay, fine. I'll talk to him about it.' Sonia's eyes only sharpen, entirely unconvinced and I raise my hands. 'I will. Just not on his birthday.'

            I decide to tell him on Thursday. I'm gonna talk to him. I'm gonna talk to him about it. I'm gonna talk to him. I repeat it in my head as I climb the stairs so I can't, with a clear conscience, pretend I "just forgot". I've tried to rehearse what to say but my mind is still blank — I don't even know what's going on! What am I s'posed to say?

It turns out not to matter because I unlock the door to find Ziri crying on the kitchen floor, leaning against the freezer with his knees pulled up to his chest.

I kick my shoes off again, unbothered with the laces to hurry to his side. 'Love, what's wrong?'

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. 'I forgot to take out the chicken to melt this morning and now I can't make the tagine like I said, and I already cut everythin else.' He waves a hand to the counter where he has cut vegetables and herbs. 'I'm completely useless. I'm spoilt and immature. You do everythin all the time and I can't even make dinner.'

I want to argue that that's entirely untrue but Dal taught not to lead with logical reasoning when he gets like this, that it'll only frustrate him further and you have to let him calm down first. 'Ziri, I love you.'

'You hate me,' he corrects, shaking his head. 'I've just manipulated you all into thinkin I'm nice, and I guilt everyone by always cryin so none of you can be honest about how useless I am. Why am I always frickin cryin?'

I stand up to pick an orange from the fruit bowl, slicing five fissures from pole to pole with the knife he's left on the counter before I sit in front of him again.

'I love you, Ziri,' I say as I break off the first section of peel. 'I choose to be burdened by you every day rather than live without you.'

He don't quite believe me but new tears stop forming. The surplus in his eyes coalesce slowly in his lashes before they fall. Even like this, I can't fathom his beauty. I smile as I peel the orange, picking off as much of the white as I can, and hand it to him.

'I'm not hungry.' Ziri never thinks he's hungry but he'd be a star on Snickers commercials.

'But I've peeled it now. You don't want me to throw it away, do ya? Cause that's a sin and all.'

Glowering, he opens his palm and lets me drop it there, heavy with juice. If my heart is an orange, I will peel it for you. He breaks off a wedge and slides it into his mouth, chewing slowly.

When he has eaten half of the fruit, he allows a sheepish smile onto his lips. 'Sorry.'

'You don't have to apologise.' I stand and offer a hand to help him up too so I can open the freezer. I take out the readily cut chicken in a grip seal bag and move it to the fridge. 'You can make the tagine tomorrow and we can go downstairs today.'

Ziri don't like going outside after his anxiety attacks but the Nepalese restaurant we live over is an exception. Krsna and Laksmi have already seen us in every mental state possible. We've had arguments there, we've laughed ourselves into hysterics, we've broken several glasses. So as far as saving face goes, it's far too late for that.

He nods but his lip finds its way between his teeth for him to peel skin off.

'You're not useless, Ziri. You made dinner on Monday. And Friday last week, and Thursday and Tuesday. You do laundry way more than I do. You always help with washing up even when it's my turn. And you have a well better salary than me. So it's just not true, is it?'

He continues to stare at the floor between his feet. 'I'm clinically insane.'

My hands fall to either side of his neck and he looks at me, black eyes still glistening with tears. 'I'm fine with you being clinically insane. It's the being southern part I take issue with.'

'You're not funny.' But his lips purse to stifle a smile.

I pull his head down to kiss his forehead and he leans into me. He smells of orange now, I know my hands do too. The juice is a mist in the air around us.

Pulling back, Ziri dries his own tears and takes a breath. 'Listen, I'm sorry. About the other night. I just– I mean, if it wasn't for me, we would've had sex years ago so I just assumed you'd want to. But we should've talked more... or gone slower.' He cracks his knuckles, a guilty tic, and I take his hands to stop him.

'I did want to,' I say, honestly. Whatever is in heaven knows I wanted to. 'I didn't know that were gonna happen — neither of us did. It's fine.'

'Do you... want to talk about it?'

I'm s'posed to talk to him about it. I said I was gonna talk to him about it. But how can I? He needs me. He has real problems. Nowt bad has ever happened to me, I don't have PTSD or BD or ADHD or GAD or owt else. What am I even s'posed to say? I'll get over whatever's going on with me; I always do.

I give a placating shake of my head. 'It's fine.'

AN:

The world today if Ziri hosted Big Fat Quiz

Metrosexuality (2001) advocate until the day I'm cremated. "I've got two gay fathers, two gay best friends, a gay godfather, and a lesbian-sympathiser girlfriend. I've done 17 Gay Prides which amounts to 75 miles of marching. You should be pinning a medal on me - Honorary Gay Boy, First fucking Class." Legendary! They just don't write camp shit like this anymore.

To the point:

For people who've read the first book, I know Sonia is written about with she/her pronouns there whilst here xe's out as non-binary. I get that that might feel weird but hopefully you can adjust to that since... that's how it goes in real life. People come out and you have to change your perception of them. The first book is set in 2008 and they're eighteen, they don't have themselves figured out yet (not that they have themselves figured out here). Same as Ziri still mostly being unlabelled but also referring to himself as asexual at times in this book, a label he hadn't even heard in the first one. Our language and the meaning of our language change over time and during our life course and that's okay. <3