Patrick let himself in, keeping the door on the latch for Kyle. He took his boots off, stomach churning with too many emotions. He was already regretting his outburst, not because he didn’t mean every word of it but because by reacting angrily he’d revealed his own weakness. If Patrick didn’t care about Kyle he wouldn’t have been so disappointed that Kyle had proven Patrick’s first impressions right: that he was frivolous and thoughtless, not caring who he hurt in the pursuit of his own gratification.

He leant against the wall in the hallway, trying to compose himself.

Getting close to Kyle was a huge mistake. He felt foolish for letting his libido lead him astray, and even more stupid for allowing himself to develop feelings for someone who was only out for a quick fuck. He should never have let his guard down.

The crunch of footsteps outside alerted him to Kyle’s return. Hurrying back into the living room to avoid another potential confrontation, Patrick greeted Mrs Wilcox, and took his seat on the couch again. She was watching one of the Harry Potter films, and doing some knitting.

“Did you lose Kyle in the snow?” she asked, lips quirking into a grin.

“No, he’s just taking his boots off.”

“Ah. Glad to hear it.” Her knitting needles clicked rhythmically as Patrick pretended to be watching the movie.

Kyle came in a couple of minutes later. Completely ignoring Patrick, he said to Mrs Wilcox, “I think Dex is hungry. Can I feed him?”

“Yes, it’s time for his dinner. His food is in the cupboard beside the back door. He gets one can and a handful of dry food.”

“Okay. And would you like some tea?”

“Actually I think I’m ready for some cheese, and maybe a little port to go with it?” She turned to Patrick with a smile. “I think I saw you’d brought a bottle.”

“Yes I did.” The thought of cheese now turned Patrick’s stomach but he didn’t want her to see something was wrong.

“Would you mind bringing it through? We can eat in front of the telly if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s fine.” It suited Patrick perfectly, as it would save the need for too much conversation.

In the kitchen, they moved around each other in frosty silence. Kyle fed Dex, slamming doors and drawers with unnecessary force, while Patrick put the cheeses onto a board and assembled plates, knives, and crackers.

“Need me to carry anything?” The hostility in Kyle’s voice didn’t match his offer of help.

“The cheese board, thanks.”

“God, that Stilton smells like something died,” Kyle muttered.

They ate cheese and crackers and sipped at glasses of port while they watched the film in silence, other than the occasional request to pass something. Kyle didn’t meet Patrick’s eye once, and he chose to sit on an armchair rather than sharing the couch with Patrick like he had earlier. Patrick caught Mrs Wilcox eyeing them curiously but she didn’t mention the change in atmosphere.

Normally Patrick’s favourite food of the season, he couldn’t stomach the cheese today. It felt cloying, and the crackers were too dry, sticking to the roof of his mouth when he tried to swallow. He had to wash it down with extra port to smooth the way, refilling his glass so he could get through the small portion he’d taken.

He was the last to finish, and as soon as he set his plate down Kyle stood and whisked it away. “I’ll tidy these up.” He gathered the other plates and stacked them. “Don’t bother,” he said sharply as Patrick made to reach for the cheese board. “I can manage fine.” He balanced the plates on one side of the board, using it like a tray.

When he was gone, Mrs Wilcox looked up from her knitting. “Everything all right with you two?”

“We had a disagreement,” Patrick said, deciding there was no point in denying there was an issue. “But I’m sure we’ll sort it out.”

He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to. What was the point? Great sex meant nothing if you were fundamentally incompatible. Patrick couldn’t be with someone he didn’t respect or trust.

“I hope so.”

Kyle was gone for a while, probably tidying up again, and when he came back Mrs Wilcox gave an exaggerated yawn. “My goodness. I’m shattered. I’m not used to eating so much, but the port’s probably to blame too.” She put her knitting back in the bag and pushed herself up. “It’s been lovely having your company today, boys, but I’m going to have to send you packing. I’m going to bed to listen to the radio till it’s time to sleep.”

“Of course,” Kyle said. “We don’t want to outstay our welcome.”

Patrick gave her a suspicious look. Her exhaustion seemed to have come upon her rather suddenly, but maybe she’d genuinely had enough. “Absolutely.” He stood and stretched, muscles tense to match his mood.

She went over to check the log burner, giving it a poke and then closing the door on it to make sure no sparks could escape as it burnt down.

“Do you need any help tomorrow?” Kyle asked. “More wood chopping, or for one of us to take Dex for a walk?”

The “one of us” stuck out to Patrick, a clear line in the sand. But that was fine. The less time they had to spend together before they could escape back to Manchester the better.

“That would be great, thank you. Yes to both.”

“Any particular time?”

“Whenever suits.” She turned out the lamps, leaving them in near-darkness apart from the hallway light, which silhouetted Kyle in the door frame. “I’ll see you out.”

Patrick stayed close as Mrs Wilcox made her way across the room and walked down the hallway with them. She waited as they put on their coats and boots. “Sleep well, both of you.” She opened the door for them and let them pass.

“Thank you for today,” Kyle said. He stooped to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“You’re welcome.” She smiled.

Patrick gave her a hug too, breathing in her scent of roses and talcum powder. “Thanks for letting us spend Christmas with you.”

“It was a pleasure.” Then she gripped Patrick’s arm with surprising strength and added quietly, “It’s better not to let the sun go down on an argument.”

She closed the door behind him, leaving Patrick alone in the darkness. Kyle had already gone ahead and let himself into the flat. Patrick stood for a moment, breathing in the chill air. He tilted his head back and looked at the stars through the bare branches of the trees, trying to gain some perspective and centre himself before facing Kyle again.

When he opened the door of the flat, Kyle was nowhere to be seen but his phone was charging on the kitchen counter and the shower was running. Patrick could do with a pee, but thought it was best to leave Kyle with some privacy given the current atmosphere. Instead he put the heater on, sat on the sofa, and turned the television on for distraction. Hopping from channel to channel, he couldn’t find anything he wanted to watch, so he got the cryptic crossword he’d been working on and went back to an anagram he’d been trying to solve.

Kyle took ages in the shower, finally emerging in his jeans and T-shirt. His damp hair was unstyled, flat, and soft-looking, and it made him seem younger. Acting as though Patrick wasn’t there, he got some socks out of his bag and sat on one of the kitchen chairs to pull them on. He still had a face like thunder. Patrick had no idea what to say, so he turned back to his crossword.

The tinny sound of loud music through headphones made him glance up. Kyle was on his phone, scrolling, and whatever he was listening to must have been full volume. Patrick could hear the beat from the other side of the room although he couldn’t identify the song.

It was really fucking annoying whatever it was.

Gritting his teeth, Patrick tried to tune it out and carry on with his crossword, but then Kyle started tapping his heel against the chair leg. Sure that he was doing it on purpose now, Patrick ignored it despite his mounting irritation. It was the drumming fingertips on the kitchen counter that finally tipped him over the edge.

“Jesus Christ can you stop that, please?” he snapped, glaring at Kyle.

No response. The music, the tapping, and the drumming carried on.

Patrick got up and stalked over to him. Finally a response. Kyle looked up, clear challenge on his face.

“Turn that down and stop being an annoying pain the arse,” Patrick said loudly.

“What?” Kyle mouthed. “I can’t hear you.” He pointed to the headphones.

Grabbing one of the earbud cables, Patrick tugged it out of Kyle’s ear. “You’re being a passive-aggressive twat. Turn the bloody music down and sit still.”

“Fuck off. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

They glared at each other in a battle of wills for a moment.

“You’re such an arsehole.” Kyle stood, stopped the music, and shoved his phone in his pocket. He squared up to Patrick, clenching his free hand into a fist. For a moment Patrick thought he might hit him. “How fucking dare you judge me the way you did earlier. You don’t know anything about me.”

“I’m judging you on what I see. Hooking up with people who are in relationships is a shitty thing to do.”

“Who said I was hooking up with guys in relationships?” Kyle demanded.

“You did!” Frustration rose, making Patrick’s heart race as adrenaline pumped through his system.

“No I fucking didn’t!” Kyle’s face was flushed with fury. “You made an assumption. If you’d listened to the actual words I said rather than jumping to conclusions then you’d realise that.”

Patrick stared at him, trying to recall the exact conversation. “You said something about trying to arrange a hook up, and that he wasn’t single.” He frowned. “Then you said that you always got married men hitting on you.”

“Yes. That’s right. I did say that.” More controlled now, Kyle’s anger was ice rather than hot rage. His tone was patronising, as though he was trying to explain something to a particularly stupid person.

“So?”

“What I said was that he was trying to arrange a hook up with me. I never said I’d agreed to it. And yes, I did say that I always got married men hitting on me. But I never said that I’d met any of them, or fucked them.”

Patrick’s stomach lurched unpleasantly, making him feel a little queasy. “But why were you even talking to him if he’s not single?”

“Because, like way too many of the guys on those apps, he was a lying bastard who claimed to be single on his profile.” Kyle shrugged, voice brittle.

Fuck. Patrick felt properly sick now. Sick with guilt. Because Kyle was right; Patrick had leapt to conclusions and had treated Kyle like shit as a result. “I’m really sorry,” he said quietly, resisting the urge to flinch away from Kyle’s gaze. “I’m sorry I misunderstood, and I’m sorry I misjudged you.”

Kyle took a deep breath, nostrils flaring. “Yeah. Well. Shit happens.” As the protective wall of his anger fell away Kyle had an air of defeat about him, hurt clearly visible on his face.

“Can you forgive me?” Patrick wanted to reach for him and hug him; hold him tight and ease away the wary tension in his body. He held back though, sensing that Kyle wasn’t ready.

“I don’t know. I need some time.” With that, Kyle put his earbuds back in and sat, turning his chair away. The music started again, but Kyle turned it down so Patrick couldn’t hear it any more.

Dismissed, Patrick went back to his crossword. He ended up doodling in the margin rather than solving any clues because he was completely unable to concentrate. All he could do was replay the events of the evening on a loop in his head. Unhappy and ashamed of himself, he wished he could turn the clock back a few hours and change things.