Page 38 of Pansies

“You feelthatguilty?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m not here because I feel guilty. I’m here because I like you.”

Little lines of sunset pink streaked over the arch of Fen’s slightly too prominent cheekbones. “You don’t know me, Alfie Bell.”

“I know you like rosé and that you’re pretty when you’re smiling. I know how you like your cock sucked. And that you’re from the same place I am.”

“That doesn’t make you a friend.”

“No, but it makes me more than a stranger.”

Fen covered his face with his hands again.

“Come on, don’t do that.” Alfie knew he was pleading, and he didn’t care. “So, we can’t change the past or balance the scales or whatever. I’m still on my knees on your bathroom floor because I want the chance to know you.”

“I thought I’d left all this behind,” Fen mumbled. “I thought I was done. You wouldn’t believe it to see me now, but I had a life, you know?” He glanced up, just for a moment, eyes nearly grey in the gloom. “I was happy and fun and special to someone. And yet here I am in South Shields. Hung up on the same fucking guy. The same loser I always was.”

The idea that Fen might be hung up on him, even a little bit, would have been a lot nicer if it hadn’t been part of a list of things Fen obviously considered horrible failures. Alfie wasn’t quite surewhat to say or what would be comforting, but he wasn’t just going to sit there blankly while Fen seemed so desperately in need of comfort. “That…that’s not how I see it. I mean, if there’s a loser here, it’s me. I’m a bully and a coward, remember? You’re not.”

But Fen wouldn’t look at him, and the silence went on and on, and it was crap. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he shuffled over to the bath. Except that brought him right up against Fen’s legs, and the last time they’d been this close, with Alfie looking up at him from the floor, he’d been about to suck Fen’s cock. Which was suddenly all he could think about. The power and the vulnerability and the taste of Fen’s skin.

Fen’s hand dropped to his lap, his eyes opening slowly, like he was just waking up. The silence was different now. Heavy and sweet as syrup.

“Oh, mate…” A world of regret in Alfie’s voice. And a world of hope.

He reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing Fen’s. It sent a little spark through him, pleasure and relief and homecoming, and Fen gave a sharp gasp. Then reared back wildly.

Not such a good idea when you were balanced on the edge of a bathtub.

Alfie tried to grab him, but it was too late. Fen was already toppling backwards into the bath, legs waving, one of his flailing hands wrapped in the shower curtain.

“Fen, be careful—”

Too late again. The entire rail came down on top of him, along with the curtain, and quite a bit of plaster.

Alfie stared at the daisy-patterned mound quivering in the bath. “Are…are you okay?”

No answer.

So he reached in and very delicately twitched the curtainaside. Fen was grey with dust, pink beneath, his hair sticking in all directions, and his glasses askew. He looked entirely ridiculous and entirely adorable, and Alfie was torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to kiss him. He was pretty sure Fen would have appreciated neither.

“You’re not hurt, right?” he asked instead.

Fen had a hand pressed tightly over his mouth, hiccoughy, high-pitched sounds leaking between his fingers. It took Alfie a moment to realise he was laughing. Well, giggling, really. “I…I fell in the bath.”

“Yeah. You fell in the bath.”

“I’m the most ridiculous person.”

It was impossible not to smile. Alfie felt sort of goofy about it, like squinting, half-dazzled, into the sun. “The most ridiculous? Out of everyone, in the whole world?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I dunno. Seems to me you’ve got some pretty exaggerated ideas about your own ridiculousness.”

Fen blinked up at him, lashes glittering. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. There’s videos of kittens on YouTube toppling over and stuff. They’d be pretty strong competition.”

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