Page 66 of Pansies

“We can figure it out,” he whispered into the silk-soft fall of Fen’s hair. “I mean, yeah, there’s a lot of bad stuff. But we like each other. That’s summin.”

“It’s not enough.”

Alfie’s stomach had become this yawning pit of awfulness. “What would make it enough? London isn’t that far—not the way I drive, anyhow—and I don’t have to go back straight away. I could take more holiday and stay with you, and I could… We could… I mean, I know this is just the start. But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It’s good.” That should have been a victory, but it sounded like defeat. “The thing is, I’m just not ready to lose something else.”

“Haven’t you missed a bunch of steps? In the middle, where we…”

“Where we what?” Fen drew back. Gave him one of those bitter little smiles. “You going to fall in love with me, Alfie Bell?”

“I dunno. But keep me around long enough, come to dinner with me, sleep with me, laugh with me, and cry on my shoulder when you need to, and I don’t see why not.”9

Now a stuttering laugh, that might too easily have become a sob. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“What doesn’t?”

“L-love.”

“Well, I’ll admit I’m not exactly an expert, but it seems simple enough to me.”

“Um, didn’t you say that about my shower rail?”

“That”—Alfie gave him a wounded look—“was proper low, man.”

Fen pushed him gently aside and stood. “Will you take me home now, Alfie?”

It was rejection, soft as dandelion seeds, but rejection all the same. And somehow indisputable. After all, what could he say in response except “Yeah”?

The drive back was swift and silent. Fen kept his hands folded in his lap and stared at them the whole way. Alfie did his best to act normal. Which was borderline impossible because he didn’tfeelnormal. He felt dizzy and confused and raw. Like he’d lost something just when he’d begun to understand how desperately he might need it.

Fen, huddled beside him, seemed so fucking crushed. Which Alfie knew was partly his fault for being pushy and too much and wanting everything at once. Wanting to take care of Fen, to be good for him and to him. Wanting to matter. And instead he’d trampled him and hurt him all over again. They should both probably have been used to that by now. Except the past was blurred—seemed almost to belong to another man, well, a boy, a blind and stupid boy. But this was real, and so was Fen. Fen, and his grief, and his pain, and the twist of his smile, and the deep green places in his eyes where his joy was waiting.

He wished he knew how to change Fen’s mind. To give him just enough hope to take a chance on something Alfie could barely articulate. A second dinner, a third…more than that? Except what right did he have to any of it—even this strangeevening, full of kisses and sadness?

He pulled up outside Pansies. Turned off the engine. The click of Fen’s seat belt echoed in the car with some sort of terrible finality. He heard his own indrawn breath.

“I’m sorry, Alfie.”

“’S’okay.”

“I know I was the worst date in the world but—”

“You weren’t.”

“I ran out of the restaurant in tears,” said Fen, deadpan, “and then nearly killed us.”

Alfie grinned. “Nobody’s perfect.”

“Oh stop it. I’m trying to tell you that, in spite of everything, I actually had a really nice time tonight.”

“Me too.”

He waited for Fen to leave but…he didn’t. He was playing with the green band around his finger again, looking anywhere but Alfie. “There’s part of me that wants to say,Fuck it, and invite you up.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because I’m not that selfish. We’ve already established I’m a mess, and, honestly, you’re terrible at casual sex.”

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