“I think I wanted to do something that was for me, and not for them. To see what it felt like.”
“And, um, whatdidit feel like?”
“I…I still don’t know.”
“That’s all right.” I moved across and gave him a…well…a sort of nuzzle, I guess, that I probably should have been self-conscious about. “I can live with being for you.”
Quietly, he finished his bacon sandwich. Then he ate the rest of mine. But I felt he probably deserved it after everything he’d been through. Trying to stick with my new grown-up lifestyle, I took the plates back to the kitchen and did that half-washing-up thing where you rinse the worst bits off under the tap and dump the rest in the sink, hoping Oliver wouldn’t have spiralled into a pit-of-fried-meat-related despair and self-recrimination while I was away.
I found him still on the sofa, still looking a bit blank.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I’m not sure.”
I settled on the floor in front of him, folding my arms across his knees. “That’s all right. You don’t have to…um. Anything really.”
“I thought I’d feel guiltier. But I just feel…full of bacon.”
“Don’t knock it. That’s a good feeling.”
His fingers curled lightly into my hair. “Thank you for doing that for me.”
“I’d say I got as much out of it as you did, except you ate my fucking sandwich.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m teasing, Oliver.” I butted his hand with my head. “In two weeks, I’ll be able to have all the bacon I like. I’m going to bathe in bacon like that bit inAmerican Beauty.”
“That is a very disturbing mental image. And also undercuts your original consequentialist argument for why it was okay for me to have this sandwich in the first place.”
“Fine. No meat baths then. You’re so unreasonable.”
He laughed, a bit unsteadily. “Oh, Lucien. I don’t know what I would have done without you today.”
“Well, probably you wouldn’t have had to leave your parents’ anniversary.”
“From what you’ve said, that might not have been a good thing.”
“See. You’re making progress.”
There was a pause. “I’m afraid I still can’t quite bring myself to think about it properly. I’m not as fearless as you.”
“I’m plenty fearful, as you well know.”
“It never seems to hold you back.”
I caught his wrist and kissed his palm. “You’re giving me way too much credit. I was a total mess before I met you.”
“Your flat was a total mess. It’s not the same.”
“Y’know”—I smiled up at him—“I’m not going to sit here and argue with you about whether I suck or not. You just keep believing I don’t.”
“I’ll never believe you’re anything less than remarkable.”
Oh fuck. I’ve never been good at this stuff. “Me too. I mean, only like, I think you are. Not that I think I am. I mean, not in a low self-esteem way. Like, that would be really arrogant. Look, can we have sex now?”
“Ever the romantic, Lucien.”