Page 137 of Pansies

Fen had of course gone for Yoshi. “I should have warned you. Dad has this eidetic memory gaming thing going on. He can do all the special moves inSoulcaliburand everything.”

“I thought you just pressed all the buttons simultaneously as hard as you could.”

“Me too. Learning how to play is practically cheating.”

Yoshi and Princess Peach did, indeed, turn out to be evenly matched. Or perhaps Fen and Alfie were evenly matched in how much they’d forgotten how to playMario Kart. They spent most of their time veering wildly off the track, getting rebuked by the angry cloud, and, when it became clear that neither of them had much chance of winning honestly, trying to run each other off the road.

It was just…fun. In the best possible way. And Fen was at his most adorable—the tip of his tongue prodding at the corner of his lips as he wrangled his go-kart round particularly tricky turns. It would have seemed impossible to Alfie less than ten minutes ago, but somehow both the past and the future seemed a long way away right now, and he was enjoying himself. Doing something silly with Fen.

“I’m so glad,” he muttered, as he dragged Princess Peach out of a death spin, “I’m wearing my tiara for this.”

Fen accidentally elbowed him, as he tried—and failed—to take a corner. “I do love Yoshi, but I wish he could keep his tongue in. I think it’s causing wind resistance and slowing me—Oh, you bastard!”

Alfie had remembered how to deploy a banana skin. And while Yoshi skidded helplessly in the wrong direction, Princess Peach veered drunkenly over the finish line.

“Yes!” The occasion definitely warranted an air punch.

Fen pouted. “Fuck you. You…overprivileged harlot.”

“Well, fuck you back…you sexually ambivalent green dude.”

“And both of you somehow have driving licences?” asked Aidan.

Fen laughed and passed the controller over his shoulder. “Come on, Dadaí, show us how it’s done.”

Alfie stuck with Princess Peach, just because he could, while Aidan deliberated.

“You know what I don’t get”—Fen tucked his head against Alfie’s shoulder—“all of them are specific characters except that poor koopa troopa. He’s just some random guy. What’s he even doing there?”

Stroking his fingers lightly up and down Fen’s arm, Alfie was quietly thrilled by the goose bumps that sprang up in his wake. “That’s Bill from reprographics. He’s a demon in a go-kart.”

“And his boss just came up to him one day and was like, ‘Hey, Bill, stop walking backwards and forwards across that ledge waiting for a plumber to jump on your head. I want you to join me in a spin-off game’?”

“Maybe he’s Bowser’s special friend.”

“But then why does Bowser spend all his time chasing a princess?”

“Oh man, she’s probably in on it. She’s probably like, ‘I’ve gotthis random plumber who won’t leave me alone, can you help?’ And Bowser is probably like, ‘Just tell him you’re not into him.’ And she’s like, ‘But he keeps saying he’s been friend-zoned, and I’m like,Hello, I’m a fucking princess, you’re a blue-collar worker, this really isn’t going to work.’”

Fen wriggled closer, laughing. And then, as his father chose Donkey Kong, let out a low whistle. “Looks like you’re fucked, sweetheart.”

Alfie was, indeed, fucked. Comprehensively and humiliatingly trounced by an enormous ape in a string vest. He joined forces with Fen after that in an effort to take Aidan down—and by the end of the evening, they’d won only a scant handful of races against their simian nemesis. Not exactly respectable, but not utterly shameful either.

Of course, the moment the music fell silent and the TV turned dark, everything Aidan had said came crashing back down on Alfie. His brain got it. But his heart…his heart didn’t have a fucking clue. It had abandoned everyday duties like moving blood and oxygen around. And instead it was dancing. Dancing for Fen.

As they were leaving and Alfie was pulling his jacket on, Aidan caught his arm. “I shouldn’t have doubted you,” he whispered. “I can see how much you care.”

Alfie nodded, the wordsI think I’m in love with himteetering preciously on the tip of his tongue.

“So remember what I said. Think about Fen. And do the right thing.”

“O-okay.” Alfie’s voice came out so hoarse he had to clear his throat. “I will. I’ll do whatever it takes for him to be happy.”

“You’re a good lad, Alfie Bell.”

And then Aidan hugged him. Not the way Alfie thought menhugged, with brusque, slightly abashed affection, but warmly and without haste or hesitation. It kind of shocked him a little bit. But then he was hugging back, embarrassed by his own clumsy fervour, finding something he hadn’t even known he was looking for, the way a sapling aches for the sun.6

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