Page 14 of Pansies

“Don’t go.” Alfie ran his hands through his hair. “Can we talk?”

“Talk.” Fen’s lip curled, and just like that, they were back at the Rattler. Two strangers, one of them angry.

“Well, why not? You might like me, you know, if you gave me a chance.”

Fen laughed. Actually laughed. Except he didn’t sound the slightest bit happy. “You…you really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Well, we’ve only just met.”

“Jesus Christ.” Fen’s hands curled into tight fists. “Look at me, you fucking bastard. Look. At. Me.”

Alfie looked. “I don’t think—” And, just like that, memory snapped into place like a mis-set bone. A thin, yellow-haired boy. Weird, friendless, and stubborn. “James? James O’Donaghue?” He felt kind of dazed and sick. Suddenly things were making sense. Some things anyway. Others weren’t. Actually, no, nothing made sense. “Wait, you told me your name was Fen. What the fuck?”

“ItisFen.”

“But…at school…”

“Yeah, you don’t think I had enough shit to deal with already without everybody knowing my parents called meFenimore?”1

It was completely the wrong reaction, and he didn’t mean to do it, but somehow, Alfie laughed. Well, it was funny. Sort of. Fenimore. Who called their kid Fenimore?

Fen—Fenimore—glared. “Oh fuck you.”

“Yeah, I think you already did.”

It was a reaction born of confusion and defensiveness, but Alfie hadn’t meant it to sound quite so harsh. And he was horrified when Fen sort of crumpled to his knees on the floor.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad. It was…it was great. But I don’t see why you didn’t just tell me. I’d still have wanted you.”

“How generous.” Fen glared at him through the falling strands of his hair, and Alfie remembered how soft it had felt, soft and a little bit sharp.

“Howay,”2 he said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did. It didn’t even fucking occur to you thatImight not wantyou.”

“You seemed pretty into me earlier.”

Fen’s expression would have made the North Sea look warm and welcoming just then. “Yes, Alfie Bell,3 I was indeed pretty into the school bully demonstrating what a good little cocksucker he’s grown into.”

It was like a knee in the ’nads. Next thing Alfie knew, he was out of bed, had Fen by the collar of his jumper, and was yanking him to his feet, staring down into those furious, too-familiar eyes.

“Going to hit me now?” Fen was trembling, but the words were a taunt. Another blow. “Tell me how you’re not like me. How you’re not one of those queers.”

“No… I…” Shit. What was he doing? He swallowed. Let go of Fen. Clenched his hands helplessly.

But Fen didn’t give an inch. Just stood there, beautiful and as breakable as moon snail shells.4 He ran his hands through his already wild hair. “God, this was fucked up.”

What was especially fucked up was that they were having a conversation like this and Alfie was stark bollock naked. He retreated to the bed, dragged the sheet off it, and wrapped it round his waist.

“Look,” he said, as calmly as he could, “I get that we weren’t exactly friends back then, but—”

“You made my life a living hell.”

“I was a kid. It was just a bit of fun.”

“A bit of fun? Are you a fucking sociopath?” Fen curled his arms tightly around his own body. “Every day. For six years.”

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