"Hey, Cortez!"

Cortez jumped. "Freya!" he said, spinning around to face her. "I didn't see you coming!"

Freya laughed. "My team's finishing up a fire drill at the middle school," she said, gesturing back over her shoulder. "I'm glad I caught you. How've you been?"

"Pretty good," Cortez said. "Just picking up some stuff from the thrift store. Quit my job."

Freya nodded. "Shirley mentioned that. Glad to hear it, she said it had been giving you a lot of stress. Do you need any help financially?"

"Not at the moment. Harl and Tippy are giving me a hand."

"Really! How's it going with them?"

"Good." He found himself smiling at the mere thought of them. "Really good," he said. "I'm so glad I have their support, after everything that's happened."

Freya smiled. "I'm really glad to hear that you're doing well." She glanced back over her shoulder. "I've gotta head back to my crew, but stay in touch, alright? You can let me know if you need anything."

"Yeah, of course," said Cortez. "See you later, Freya."

Freya jogged back to the school, where Cortez saw the fire truck parked. He continued walking down the street, still smiling. He really ought to stay in touch with Freya and Shirley more; he had neglected both of them after his post-Paradoors depression, but now that he was doing better, he wanted to keep up his relationships with his friends. Couldn't rely on Harl and Tippy for all his social needs.

But that was for another day; he soon arrived at Harl's apartment. Cortez skipped the walk upstairs and used his powers to connect the building entrance to the apartment door. "I'm back," he announced. "Everything good here?"

"Hi, Cortez!" Harl pulled on a coat and beamed at him. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon, I'm about to go out!"

"I found what I needed surprisingly quickly." Cortez put the bag on the back of the couch. "Where are you going?"

Harl's smile faltered. "I have to see family," he said. "They haven't seen me since before… everything. I put it off for too long. Tippy's staying here, and you should probably stay here, too."

"Ah," Cortez said. "I won't argue with that. I hope the visit goes well."

"Me too." Harl sighed. "I probably won't be back until late, but call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Understood."

He leaned in to give Harl a kiss on the cheek. Harl hugged him tight, then let go. "Bye, Tippy!" he called towards the bedroom. "Cortez got back! I'm leaving!"

"Take care, Harl!" Tippy called back, out of view.

Harl left. Cortez took out the shirt he had bought and examined it. It looked like a decent quality, but it needed a few alterations to fit him properly. He put it on the coffee table and took out a small sewing kit, turning it over in his hand.

The silence was oppressive. "You're welcome to join me out here, Tippy," Cortez called out. "Is there a reason you're keeping to yourself?"

"Well…" Tippy paused. "No, not really. One moment, please."

Shortly afterwards, Tippy emerged from the bedroom, dressed in a dress shirt and nice pants; probably what were supposed to be casual clothes. Cortez didn't comment. "I picked up a shirt for my pirate outfit," he said as Tippy sat down. "Need to adjust it some."

"Huh," Tippy said. "I didn't know you knew how to sew."

"I know a stitch." Cortez held the shirt up in front of him. "It can't be that hard, right?"

He looked over at Tippy and saw him staring in thinly disguised judgement. "So you don't actually know what you're doing," he said. "Let me see that."

He tugged the shirt out away from him. Cortez rolled his eyes, but didn't argue; Tippy had far more tailoring experience than he did. Cortez remembered a moment from the first time they dated, sitting next to Tippy while he worked on a shirt, and smiled at the memory. It hadn't been just the two of them in a long time.

Not since before Paradoors.

The memory of that wiped the smile off his face.

"This a good quality shirt," Tippy said. "You said you found it at the thrift store?" He looked up and saw Cortez's expression. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh," said Cortez, "well…"

No point in hiding it. He sighed. "Can we talk about something?"

"Of course." Tippy put the shirt down. "What is it?"

"It's about what happened in Paradoors," he said. "Why did you try to kill me?"

"Ah," Tippy said, and he made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a choke.

After a long silence where Tippy's face contorted into all sorts of expressions, Cortez realized he wouldn't speak up anytime soon. "Look," said Cortez, "I don't expect it to be easy. But we have to talk about it eventually, no matter how hard it is."

"What is there to say?" Tippy held out his hands. "I made horrific justifications to myself in the moment, and they were all wrong. You'll hate me if I tell you what they were."

"Give me some credit. We're dating, aren't we?"

Tippy took a deep breath. "It feels like a dream," he said. "An illusion, maybe. Like everything will splinter and fall the moment I close my eyes.

"I promise," Cortez said, "it's not a dream. I'm here without knowing your reason, and…" He paused. "I trust you enough to think I'll be here after I know, too. But Tippy, I don't think I can move on without it."

"Alright," Tippy said. "I… okay. Just give me a moment."

Cortez nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

Tippy was quiet for a few moments, taking deep breaths with his hands on his lap. He picked up the shirt again and turned it over in his hands.

"I was angry," he said, "and I was under a great deal of stress, because Paradoors does not naturally take the form I forced it into, and keeping it that way was a constant effort. I hadn't slept in several days. Nothing was the way I had imagined it. And I got it into my head that… that such an outburst was necessary, somehow. I didn't consider the consequences that would come from such an action." He pinched and twisted a piece of fabric. "In my mind, I barely considered that you would actually die."

Cortez didn't say anything. What could he say?

"Part of me still believed that we could reunite with the dead in Paradoors, and the only barrier to seeing my mother again was my own inadequacy." Tippy's voice shook. "So I made you the target of all the anger and frustration I had taken upon myself, and I did something I can never undo. On a molecular level, Harl will never be the same, and emotionally, neither will you, or Freya, or Shirley, or any out of the hundreds I hurt. There's no amount of repentance that would be sufficient."

"I'm not asking you to repent," said Cortez. "I asked why you did it, and now that you've told me, I still love you."

He hadn't known until the words were spoken, but he was certain they were true. Of course he loved Tippy. He had all the qualities he loved the first time they dated, and even after going through a hell of his own making, Tippy was still trying to grow into a better person. Most people would have given in to despair. It was incredible that Tippy hadn't.

The shirt trembled in Tippy's hands.

"Come here," Cortez said, and he pulled Tippy into a hug.

Tippy sobbed and wrapped his arms around him, clinging to Cortez like a lifeline. "I have nightmares," he said through his tears, "about that moment. Sometimes it's the same, and sometimes… Harl doesn't get in the way."

"What happens then?" Cortez asked.

"It doesn't matter. I feel the same horror and regret, except this time, you don't come back."

He buried his face in Cortez's chest. Cortez rubbed his back. "I'm here now," he said. "All of that happened, and we're okay now."

"It's just so hard to believe…"

"It's okay," Cortez repeated. "We're all okay now."

They held each other until Tippy's trembling sobs slowly ceased. Cortez thought back to the morning, before he left for the thrift store. "Did you eat anything today?" he asked.

"No," Tippy said. "I'm honestly not sure I need to."

"Aw, come on. You'll feel better if not all of your energy comes from your powers."

"You don't know that."

"I don't, but it makes sense, right?"

Tippy sighed and straightened up, rubbing tears out of his eyes. "It does," he admitted. "I'll try and put something together."

"Do you not have leftovers? I saw something in the fridge last time I looked."

"You're right, I should eat that before it goes bad." Tippy put the shirt down and stood up again. "I'll just put it in the microwave."

He paused at the door, one hand on the frame. Cortez didn't notice until Tippy spoke again.

"I love you, Cortez," he said, looking at the floor. "It feels like I don't deserve to, after everything. I don't think it will ever feel otherwise. But I do love you."

Cortez smiled. "Well, good, 'cause I already told you how I feel. You need me to say it again?"

Tippy laughed quietly. "No," he said. "I know. I'll be back in a moment."

He left the room. Cortez heard the microwaving running shortly after, and Tippy returned with a covered bowl. "I'll eat in a minute," he said, taking the shirt. "Now, what alterations did you want to make on this?"

While they spoke, Cortez could hardly keep a smile off his face. Sure, everything in Paradoors had happened, but they were okay. They were more than okay–they were in love.

---

Harl returned late that night. Both Tippy and Cortez stood up when they saw his miserable expression. "Harl," Tippy started.

"I'm okay," Harl said, and promptly burst into tears.

Tippy rushed to him, wrapping him up in an embrace. "It's okay, Harl," he said while his boyfriend sobbed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Cortez walked forward, then hesitated; Tippy clearly knew more about the situation than he did. "Is there anything I can get you?" he asked awkwardly. "I don't know…"

Harl sniffed loudly. "It was okay," he said. "My family… they're just a lot, sometimes."

"I know, Harl," Tippy said. "Sit down with us."

They sat on the couch again, the sewing project moved to the coffee table. Harl sat between Tippy and Cortez and accepted the tissue box Cortez offered him.

"It was okay," he said again, after he had blown his nose. "It was just, y'know, the first time I saw them since everything, and I needed to let them know I was doing alright."

"I don't know your family," Cortez said. "Are they… alright to you?"

"Yeah," said Harl.

"They could be a lot better," said Tippy.

Cortez looked at Harl, who just sighed. "They did their best," he said. "I can't blame them for a lot, and even the stuff they did screw up… it doesn't feel right to blame them for that, either." He cracked a smile. "Tippy doesn't like them."

"I respect that you want to stay in contact with them," Tippy said, "but, frankly, everything I've heard about them makes me wonder why."

"Sometimes I needed help from them," Harl said, "and they helped me, even if they really didn't want to. I should do the same for them, right?"

"Is it just your parents?" Cortez asked.

"Nope," said Harl. "I'm the oldest of five kids. Three sisters and a brother." He shrugged. "Most of them weren't there, though, and my dad left a long time ago. It was just my mom, Ginny, and Saul. I didn't really expect Saul to show up, Ginny said he's been a real piece of work…"

Cortez nodded, pretending he knew the people behind those names. "Was he?"

"Oh, boy," Harl said. "He was, but that wasn't even upsetting. I'm used to it by now."

"You shouldn't have to be used to it," Tippy said.

"I know, but…"

He trailed off. Cortez put an arm around him. "What was upsetting?" he asked. "If you want to talk about it, I mean."

Harl shifted back and forth. "My mom's not doing great," he said. "Ginny's been taking care of her, but… I dunno. She heard on the news that, y'know, a bunch of people disappeared for a few days, and she was worried about me, but she barely recognized me when I came back. She still thinks I'm her daughter, y'know?"

Cortez, along with most of the city, knew Harl was a trans man; he had always been open about his gender identity, and the city was a safe place to be so. He was pretty sure it was the first Harl had brought it up in his presence, but then again, it was likely Harl had assumed, correctly, that he already knew. He decided not to comment.

"It was just a lot," Harl said. "At least Ginny's doing okay. We talked for a while after Saul left. We had dinner."

"Do you need anything else?" Tippy asked.

Harl rubbed his nose. "I think I gotta go to bed early."

"Alright. Do you want us there with you?"

"You don't have to be. I'm just gonna sleep." Harl stood up. "I gotta use the bathroom."

When he left, Tippy put a hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. "Everything alright?" Cortez asked.

"Yes," Tippy said. "I just… other than his sister, I'm shocked Harl puts up with any of them."

Cortez shrugged. "I mean, I can't say I relate to him. I haven't seen my parents in person for years."

Tippy ran a hand through his hair. "You know my familial situation," he said. "My stepfather wasn't always emotionally there for me, but he passes a bar that most of Harl's family doesn't. To my knowledge, at least–all I know is what he's told me."

"You think you'll meet them sometime?"

"Maybe," Tippy said. "I think Harl wants me to, but, well, we all know I have a temper."

Cortez nodded. "You'll probably never meet my family, if I'm being honest," he said. "I never even came out to them, really, so I don't know how I'd explain our situation to them."

"You never came out?"

"Eh, they probably figured it out, considering I've never had a girlfriend."

Tippy nodded, frowning. "That brings up another thing," he said. "Who *have* you told about us?"

He hesitated. "Well," he said, "no one, really. I don't see why anyone else has to know if we don't want them to."

"That's fair," Tippy said, "but I can't imagine any of us would want to keep our relationship secret forever."

"True, true, but…"

He trailed off. "But what?" Tippy asked.

Cortez sighed. "I'm worried about what the others will say," he said. "If they'll be worried for me, or concerned, or think that I'm not capable of handling my own romantic relationships, and none of that would be fair to me *or* you."

Tippy didn't say anything for a moment, his brow furrowed. "I don't think it's fair to assume they'll act like that," he finally said. "They're your friends, aren't they? And they're fine with me dating Harl, assuming you're talking about Freya and Shirley."

"Mostly Shirley, but Freya too, yeah." Cortez looked away. "And, well, you're right. It's not fair to them, but I'm still scared."

"What are you scared of?"

Oh, God. "That they'll treat you poorly," Cortez said. "If you must know."

Tippy shook his head. "If they were going to treat me poorly, they would have already, and it would be my own fault."

"But–"

He was interrupted with a finger against his lips. "I'm not going to argue if you insist on not telling them," Tippy said, "but I'd rather not be a secret. Will you tell Freya and Shirley, at least?"

Cortez relented. "Alright," he said. "I'll tell them. Dunno when, but it'll be soon."

"Alright. Thank you, Cortez."

Tippy kissed his forehead, and then his lips, and not long after, they went to the bedroom to join Harl in bed.