Finally. A rainbow flag on the door, a compost pile in the yard. Katrina had arrived.

Katrina had met Evan at a queer youth conference. She was a timid newbie geek with facial hair and bad skin. He was a film student who seemed far too queer and fierce to notice her.

And yet he had comforted her after she broke down in the breakaway gender discussion group. He had assured her that she wasn’t the only one who wasn’t out to their parents and who came from a culture where one did not even mention such things; he said that queer folks often chose their families just for these reasons.

He told her that she belonged, as much as anyone else.

Between sessions, they shared lunch. He talked about a short film he was working on, and listened when she talked about saving money for a new violin. They held hands, and before they parted, he told her not to give up, and promised that he would be there whenever she needed.

And then Evan had kissed her goodbye.

But that had been two years ago. When Katrina had finally called for help, it’d taken Evan a week to reply.

Katrina knew that Evan had changed. After all, he’d left college, and never finished the film he’d talked so passionately about at the conference. Still, part of her hoped that he might look at the videos of gaming and anime music she was making for YouTube. Maybe he’d even want to help.

But no matter what, here would be a friendly face and a safe space, even for just a little while.

The door opened.

“It’s you?” Evan said dully.

Katrina tried not to seem shocked. He was thinner than before. His hair was longer, tied up a bun, and he smelled like body odor, cat fur, and sage.

“I sent you an email? And you wrote back. You said to come over. And I sent you texts while I was on the way.”

“Oh. Wait for a sec.” He disappeared inside.

Katrina waited by the doorway. She noticed an old Chinese man across the street eyeing her suspiciously. She gave her best smile as the door opened once more.

“You should have said you were coming for real.” Evan scratched his head. “Could you come back later tonight? I’ve got someone here now.”

“I’m sorry,” Katrina mumbled.

He glared at the man across the street, then yelled back into the room.

“The old man is looking at us again. He looks hungry. Hide the cat!”

“Haha! That’s so fucked up.” The voice inside giggled.

Evan closed the door.

Katrina stood there. He had not even offered to take her bags.

Why did she just apologize? She had told him for real.