Page 125 of Pansies

“Probably. What’s the problem?”

“Um, it won’t start? I’m sorry, that’s kind of the extent of my expertise in this area.”

She smiled. “It’s more than enough. We’ll bring her in, have a look at her, see what’s going on, get back to you with a quote and the cost of any parts in a day or two. We can also give her a full service and tune-up because, no offence, she looks like she needs it.”

Well. Alfie was an idiot. He wanted to crawl under a car and never come out. “I dunno how to say this now,” he mumbled, “butI think it might be the transmission. Except, y’know, you’re the mechanic. So ignore me.”

“No, that’s helpful. So, she’s turning over?”

“Yeah, but she judders out.”

“Okay.” She nodded. Turned back to Fen. “Just need you to sign a couple of things and we can get started.”

“I’ll go ring a taxi,” said Alfie. “Get us back hyem8 when you’re ready.”

Home. He’d spoken without thinking, and the word clanged like he’d dropped it. But then Fen’s fingers tightened around his, and Alfie decided maybe it was okay after all. That it had been exactly what he’d meant to say.

* * *

They got back to Pansies a little after closing time only to find everything put away and the shop already locked. Gothshelley had left them a note in the front window—which appeared to be an upraised middle finger daubed in purple lipstick on a piece of flower wrap.

Laughing, they left it there, pulled down the grille, and headed up to the flat. But something shifted between them, without Alfie really knowing quite why or how, and they didn’t even get halfway up the stairs before they were mouth-to-mouth, tangled in each other’s arms, fumbling at belts and buttons. It was so awkward, full of edges and angles, Alfie’s T-shirt sticking to his back, his jeans digging into his hips, and the wall flaking plaster as they rubbed up against it. But somehow, that just made itbetter. It gave this weird clarity to Fen straining against his palm, and Fen’s hand rough on his cock, to their bodies shoved together and their kiss full of what Alfie realised too late was the salt of Fen’s weeping.

When he came, it was quick and harsh and out of nowhere, a magnesium flare of pleasure that Fen wrenched out of him like a sob. Afterwards, they sat on the stairs, shoulder to shoulder, their unsteady breaths oddly synchronised in the narrow hallway.

And Alfie reached out to catch Fen’s tears.

“What’s wrong, pet?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Fen took off his glasses and cleaned them on the edge of his shirt. His eyes were reddish, his lashes glinting in the uncertain light and spiky-tipped with moisture. “I can’t tell if I’m happy or sad. I think I’m both. Or maybe being happy feels like being sad now or the other way round.”9

Alfie reached for Fen’s hands and held them tight. “It’s okay, y’know.”

“What’s okay?”

“To be happy.”

One of Fen’s eyebrows arched sardonically. “I think I’ve lost the habit.”

“Don’t be like that. I know you just feel guilty and confused cos you think you’re letting your mam down if you’re not miserable all the time.”

“Wow, Alfie. Tell it to me straight, why don’t you?”

“You saying I’m wrong?”

“N-no.” Fen swallowed. And, for a moment, Alfie thought he might say something more. But he just sighed. “I can’t believe it’s Wednesday. How can it be Wednesday?”

“We can figure this out.”

Fen shook his head. “I don’t want to have to think about it.”

“Yeah but”—Alfie wasn’t sure how to say it gently, so he just blundered on—“we’re going to have to before Monday, right? I mean, cos it’s something. Whatever we’re doing. I know you feel it too.”

“Yes,” said Fen, very softly. “I do.”

“And I’m not just going to walk away. Or let you convince me—or yourself—that it doesn’t matter.”

Fen gave a wobbly laugh. “Okay, okay. No need to get all Alpha Bell about it.”

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