“There are no gay people in Russia.”

When Alex had told you this, you had laughed. It didn’t make any sense. You told him that, statistically speaking, that was impossible. You thought he was joking. You played along.

But Alex wasn’t joking, not entirely. Mother Russia and her leaders do not care much for the LGBTQ. Out of fear, Alex had insisted he was not any sort of queer. But you knew better. He wasn’t just flamboyant or anything like that. You knew he was queer. But he wouldn’t admit that to you.

Really, it hurt you. Alexander was like a pure ray of sunshine to you — refreshing and warm and beautiful. He was handsome and kind and very, very talented. He was so sure of himself all the time. But you could see the way he acted around certain people; the way he moved with such hesitant longing. He guarded himself closely. He made sure nobody knew a thing about him.

All you wanted was the truth. And then, by extension, to protect him.

The two of you watch Sigrit and Lars from backstage as they kiss and get cheers from what feels like half of the world’s population. Previously, Alex had been trying to convince Sigrit to leave Lars and travel the world with him. He thought Sigrit was special and did not want her to sacrifice her dreams and talent for an idiot like him.

“I am so happy for them,” he comments softly as he watches the couple, all grins and flushed cheeks as the crowd goes wild for their performance and display of affection. “I mean, how could I not be?”

He both looked and sounded emotional. All he wants is security and safety in who he loves; to not be publicly shamed or even attacked for it. You wanted to tell him that he deserved to be happy, as well, even though his homeland would not agree.