Page 98 of Pansies

“Then”—Alfie put the bottle aside, well out of Fen’s reach—“you’re definitely doing it wrong.”

They sat down together on the sofa again, side by side, like actors in the sort of play Alfie hated. “You’ve got to eat, y’know,” he muttered. “No wonder you’re so skinny.”

“Just because my mum’s dead doesn’t mean the position’s open.”

Something a bit fretful, a bit shamed, stirred in Alfie’s gut. But he ignored it. “Howay. I’m not trying to mother you, I’m trying to date you. And, anyway, I’m hungry, even if you’re not.”

“I’m sorry.” Fen covered his eyes with his hand. “I just wasn’t prepared to have someone in my life. I’ve forgotten how to do it. What it feels like.”

“We can figure it out. What do you do when I’m not here?”

“Sit around like Fantine, mostly, wondering where it all went wrong.”

“You wha?”

“Drink, smoke, listen to music, miss my mum and my boyfriend and my life. Feel sorry for myself. Go to the Rattler and wait to be rescued by demons from my childhood. That kind of thing.”

Alfie really didn’t want to hear about the boyfriend Fen apparently still missed. But it looked like he was going to have to. “What about when you were, y’know, with wossname?”

“With David?” Fen’s face softened, opened like a night-blooming flower. “Well, mine isn’t…I mean wasn’t…exactly a nine-to-five job, so I worked pretty intense hours. And travelled a lot. And, on top of that, David… Have you heard of Pure-O? He gets pretty intense sometimes.”

“Sounds like you weren’t all that suited,” said Alfie hopefully.

“Oh no, we were really happy. Just in a stay-at-home way that probably makes us sound incredibly boring.”

Bugger. So much for David being easy to live up to. “Sounds nice actually. My ex is kind of a party monster.”

“Is that what you’re into?”

“It’s okay sometimes, but not all the time. And, basically, the thing I’m up for in a pretty major way right now is spending time with you. So I say we do that.”

That earned him one of Fen’s sultry glances. “Look at you, taking charge.”

“Any objections?”

“On this occasion, none.” Fen shifted into a corner of the sofa and tucked his feet under him, curling up snail-shell tight. “Honestly, by the end of an average day, making even the smallest decision sometimes feels impossible.”

Alfie patted his knee. “So how about I nip down the road and get us something to eat while you find a movie?”

“I think,” Fen said slowly, “that would be completely wonderful.”

“Try not to get lung cancer or become an alcoholic while I’m gone.”

Fen smiled his widest, most crooked smile. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

It should have been some kind of world record for fastest-ever takeaway trip. A few minutes later, Alfie was sitting in the window of the Ocean Pearl, waiting for his order and urgently googling “vegetarian meals for two.” Followed by “easy vegetarian meals for two,” because, bloody hell, cooking seemed at least as tricky as plastering, and what if he was shite at both?

And not long after that, he was galloping back to Fen, who was pretty much exactly where Alfie had left him. He had, however, partially cleared the coffee table and got his laptop set up.

“Please tell me you picked up chopsticks,” he said, “because if not, you’re eating with your hands.”

“You don’t own any forks?”

“Of course I own forks.” Fen looked faintly offended. “I just can’t remember the last time I washed one.”

Alfie laughed, plopped himself down on the sofa, and began emptying the bags, making a takeaway pyramid that he topped triumphantly with two sets of disposable chopsticks.

Fen gazed at him, all the green of his eyes lost to the shadows in the room. “You’re perfect, Alfie Bell.”

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