Page 59 of Pansies

Suddenly whatever had held him was gone. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, threw down far too many notes, paused briefly to mutter something apologetic to Amjad, and chased Fen into the night.

11

Alfie thought Fen would be long gone, but he wasn’t. He was standing by Alfie’s car, half-swallowed by the darkness, his head bowed, his hands braced on the bonnet.

Alfie didn’t hesitate. He just went over there andgatheredhim up. And Fen let him. Let him fit them together, Fen’s back to Alfie’s front, and wrap him up in his big arms, and keep him like that. He wasn’t crying, now. Wasn’t trembling. He was simply cold, his soft breaths clouding the air a moment before they dissipated.

Alfie wanted to ask what had happened, what was wrong. But he didn’t dare. At least not yet. In case he broke this moment: him holding Fen, like none of the bad stuff mattered, like Fen trusted him. Could take comfort from him. Or whatever else he needed.

“Look. Dragon smoke.” He leaned over Fen’s shoulder and breathed out too, so they mingled in the mist.

Dragon smoke?How old was he, twelve? Well, it was probably better than the cameo conversation. Even thinking about that made Alfie’s stomach twist itself into embarrassed little knots.

Somehow, even in the tight circle of Alfie’s embrace, Fen swizzled round. When they were this close, the height difference really seemed to matter. Truthfully, Alfie kind of liked it.Especially the way Fen had to tip his head back. There was something intimate about it, hopeful, a bit wanting, like he was waiting for a kiss. Which he wasn’t. But the possibility was there. Had always been there since that night outside the Rattler.

Very softly, as though Fen was a deer and his voice was a gun, he tried, “What did I say?”

“N-nothing. It was me. All me.”

“What’s wrong, pet?”1 The endearment slipped out before he could stop it. But it wasn’t really an endearment, it was just the warmest thing he knew how to say. It was what his mam had said to him through all his tiny childhood tragedies and somehow made them better.

“Well…basically everything. But there was no need to come after me.”

“Oh aye?” Alfie made as though to draw back. “I’ll nip back and get pudding, then.”

Something that might have been a laugh, and the press of Fen’s fingers, tugging him closer. “I’m so sorry I wrecked your evening.”

“Aww, Fen, you didn’t wreck my evening. But can you tell us what’s going on, maybe? One minute you were sort of fine, the next you really weren’t.”

Fen was staring unhelpfully at a spot somewhere at the base of Alfie’s throat. “That’s my life right now. Sort of fine, then really not.” And then he was pulling away, as Alfie had known he would. Though knowing didn’t make that little parting easier to bear, or the sudden cold where Fen’s body had been. His breath came harshly through the darkness, but when Fen spoke again, he was oddly calm. Stripped of everything. “My mother died.”

For a moment, Alfie was…blank. “You what? You mean, Nora? Your mam, Nora? Fuck me. How? When?”

“A while ago now—about a year and a half? Long enough that I shouldn’t be like this.”

“You mean, sad? Fen, if my mam died and I wasn’t sad, I’d think there was summin wrong with me.”

An impatient flick of Fen’s fingers. “It’s more than that. And I’m sick of it. I want to be normal again. To be myself again.”

“You don’t think you’re you?”

“Well, I didn’t used to burst into tears in restaurants.”

“But,” Alfie persisted, “it wasn’t a weird, random event. Something must’ve made you cry.”

“It was…it was you. Well, sort of you.” Fen’s toe scuffed idly at some loose gravel on the road. The clash of pebbles sounded far too loud. “This ridiculous conviction you have that you can fix everything for everyone.”

“I don’t believe I can fix everything. I just like to, y’know…try.”

Suddenly Fen glanced up, the movement catching Alfie’s attention. “But what if you didn’t try? Or didn’t try hard enough?”

The cold air dug its fingers into Alfie’s bare arms and scratched. “Um, I don’t—”

“It doesn’t matter.” There was a pause. “Alfie?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

“Can I drive your car?”

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