It feels like I only closed my eyes for a second. Yet when I open them, everything is different. I'm uncomfortable and sweaty, and a square of sunlight from the window covers me like a blanket. The reddish sunset light is also unlike the gentle morning glow that filled the room when I went to bed.

Wincing, I turn away from it, and find Joshua lying next to me, watching me. Taken by surprise, I jerk back and nearly slip off the bed.

"I have a question," he says.

I try to ask him why he’s in my bed and not on his couch, but my dry throat fails to produce anything meaningful. He nodes, his face looking pale in contrast to the Havaian shirt he's still wearing.

"The stuff you've been telling me last night." Slowly, he sits upright and rubs his face. "I mean, you saved my life—I don't take that lightly, but I just have to understand." He lowers his hands and looks at me. "What was it, about sins and all that?"

I blink, gathering my thoughts. I don't feel rested, although a few hours clearly have passed since I went to bed. I'm not particularly sleepy, either. It feels like I have lost consciousness and then came to and continued from the same point.

"I just believe in doing the right thing," I say, my voice hoarse. "In everything."

He raises an eyebrow. "So, you think I'm doing something wrong?"

Oh boy, where do I even begin.

"You lie with men," I blurt, deciding to address the central issue. "That is wrong."

"Oh." He stares at me. "Such confidence. Did you see me do that?"

"No." I frown, suddenly apprehensive. "You mean you don't?"

He rolls his eyes. "I think we are not familiar enough for such intimate questions."

I watch him, puzzled. What is this about? He sings in a gay club. Mike described him as promiscuous. I saw him with that Victor guy in that corridor. He wears makeup, for heaven's sake.

"What I know about you has led me to believe that you're gay," I say slowly. "If you're not, I apologize for my mistake. Yet if you are, it doesn't have to remain that way."

He frowns at me. "What?"

"Lifestyles can change. Sexual preferences can change."

"No, they can't."

"You're mistaken," I say, glad for the opportunity to spill out what I intended to tell him anyway. "There are conversion therapies. There are success stories. Some people manage to change, and they get married, and they love their wives, and they have children, and they have a good life. Don't you want a good life?"

"I'm fine with my life." He shrugs. "Going through a bit of a rough patch right now but that has nothing to do with my 'sexual preferences'."

I sit straighter, facing him. I wish I could have a cup of coffee before such a serious conversation, but one can't always have what he wants.

"Everything is connected," I say. "One bad decision leads to another. One good decision can lead to a better one. Living in a basement of a seedy night club is by no definition a good life. Perhaps something in you made you believe that's what you deserve. Maybe you feel that your choices are wrong, and the life you're leading is your way of punishing yourself. Yet if you stop going against your nature and start choosing right, it might fix everything. It'll require an effort, but it'll be worth it."

I pause. I'm not used to talking, so this feels like an enormous amount of words to use all at once. Yet I'm pushed by a feeling of urgency, the need to tell him all I can while I still have his attention.

He stares at me, his eyebrow raised as high as they can go.

"Dude," he says at last. "You've been my hero last night, but now you're kinda slipping off that pedestal at an alarming pace. What do you even know about my life to talk to me like this?"

"I know you're not happy." The words come out almost without thinking. I pause, processing them, and they just feel… right. That’s the feeling I was getting from him all the time, during our few short meetings, or seeing him onstage. Arrogant or scared, calm or nervous, he never looked happy—not once.

He stares at me some more, then shakes his head.

"I could really use a coffee," he says.

I almost feel like hugging him for saying that.