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What Anders truly could never believe was the size of it. The incredible crowd, full of rainbows and symbols of his people. He loved Pride. He had never truly felt seen anywhere else.
He smiled at a small child who stared up at his cape. They tugged on their mother's hand and said, "Look, mom, a pan flag! He's like me!"
The mom briefly smiled at him as he passed by, and warmth blossomed deep inside his chest.
The very air had a different smell at Pride. Fumes from motorcycles, faint hints of soap from bubbles, the musk of hot leather, sunshine hitting thousands upon thousands of people.
But there was a dark side, too.
Protesters screamed into a megaphone. They held up signs with bible quotes and slurs. They taunted anyone who would listen to them. Just a handful against many, but enough. Anders had seen them before. Every year they became more bitter and dangerous. Once, he had seen them bring a young girl to tears, with no consequence.
They were the real reason Anders was here. He had a mission. To drown them out in an explosion of sound and glitter and hope for his people.
He turned on the speaker. He turned it up loud. He played his own personal mix of Pride anthems.
People laughed. People cheered. He could see it. And the protesters yelled at him. He could see that too. But his earplugs protected him from their words at least.
Anders knew he could die this way.
And honestly, he accepted that. He had known that before he stepped foot here. He always carried that knowledge with him. He was trans, after all, and his predecessors had died for this moment.
He knew, inevitably, that the police who were supposed to be protecting them wouldn't. Not until someone got hurt. And Anders was willing to let that be him, was willing to bleed if it proved the truth to the world that good and evil couldn’t co-exist peacefully. Someone had to stop them. If that someone had to be him, then so be it.
Anders stood on hard pavement, inches away from the protesters' fence, his back facing them. They didn't deserve respect or attention. They didn't deserve a space here. Whatever it took, he would see to it that they would never get to protest Pride again. It was a hate crime, no matter what the authorities might say.
As Anders watched people cheerfully pass by, someone politely tapped him on the arm.
He turned to see a grinning, gorgeous person.
Their brown skin shimmered in the sunlight with sweat, and there was very little he couldn't see. Except for a cheerful green skirt and a striking black leather harness criss-crossing their chest, Anders had a perfect view of them, covered in gold glitter and black tattoos.
Anders pulled out one earplug, and the roar of the world came rushing in. Shouts behind him, the music by his feet, the crowd laughing and waiting for the start of the parade.
"Hello!" The stranger shouted. "I couldn't help but notice you. Do you want to kiss?"
Anders blinked, blushing. It suddenly felt even warmer under the summer sun, from this stranger's amused and … flattering gaze.
"Did you say kiss you?" Anders said, wondering if the sun had melted some of his brain cells.
The stranger nodded, still grinning at him. "I did! We get to upset them, and I get to be kissed by a very handsome man. It's an excellent idea, no?"
What.
Shit, he liked that.
"I…" Anders glanced back at the angry protesters, and then at this person, who was still somehow just as attractive and real as before. "Actually, yes."
They did an excited little bounce that was fucking adorable, and took a step closer, reaching around Anders' shoulders. Jesus, fuck, they were devastatingly sexy.
Anders leaned in a little hesitantly at first. There was something completely surreal about this, about the way the sun hit this person's pretty face, about the fact that it was Pride, and about how this was entirely unexpected.
They, however, were entirely unhesitant. They pressed in quick and talented, and Anders sank into their kiss like it was everything he ever wanted. He pressed his hands against their bare shoulders, fingertips brushing leather edges, he twisted his lips against theirs, and he didn't even let go once they were done.
Then they were both breathless, and staring at each other. Anders distantly realized his hands were covered in gold glitter, now, which felt pleasant, if a little strange and gritty.
"My name is Zevran," the stranger said, with a delighted smile. The sun sparkled in Zevran’s hair.
"Hi. I'm Anders." Anders didn’t step back and neither did they.
"A pleasure to meet you, Anders! Would you like to trade numbers?"
The parade must have started, because a roar of motorcycles went by.
Anders nodded. It was hard to hear over the crowd. "I think I'd like that!"
Zevran beamed at him, and pulled away, to go searching through his skirt pockets.
"Oh, it has pockets," Anders said, impressed.
"Yes! Handy isn't it? Ah, here," Zevran pulled out a rainbow-colored business card and winked at him. "This is yours. Best of luck with tormenting the bigots. Call me if you need help getting out of jail, I know some friends."
"Thanks," Anders said, as Zevran started to walk away.
"Anytime, my friend! And remember, a kiss is only a phone call away," Zevran said, and blew him a kiss over his shoulder.
Well. That was unexpected... Anders put his ear plug back in, and enjoyed cheering for seemingly endless floats of rainbows. The rest all started to blur in a lovely haze of people waving and smiling and cheering, politicians, drag stars, cheerleaders, community groups, students, companies, and stars, giving out fliers, sunscreen, condoms, and beads. Most of it would be forgotten and thrown away afterwards.
But one thing he kept safe, a rainbow business card, and a memory of a perfect kiss. Nothing else could ever be like it. That kiss was something he would remember for the rest of his life.
Anders was going to send Zevran a message next week. For the moment, he had to wait until he paid his bail. It was possible he shouldn't have punched the preacher who got in his face.
But he certainly didn't regret it.