I duck into the rain as Caleb yanks the hood of his jacket over his head. We parked a street away from the restaurant but the downpour that started halfway through our date is so ravenous we'll be soaked by the time we reach the car—or I will in any case: my jacket don't have a hood. Especially with Caleb pushing his chair at the speed he is.

Just as I'm about to ask if he wants help, he grumbles, 'Why do they always give you the bill?'

In my agitation to get out of the rain, I've walked far enough ahead that I have to turn around to see his glower.

'I also have money. The whole point of this dinner were for me to treat you but everyone always assumes you'll pay. Why can't they ever put the receipt in the middle of the table—that's what they do when me and Eilidh are on dates.' Caleb has halted entirely now though the water is pouring right into his trainers. He don't seem to be aware. 'Is it because they think I'm not a man?'

'What? Course not. You're the most handsome man I've seen. You look more like a man than I do. And you're always the sexiest person at the supermarket.'

He nods miserably. 'I am always the sexiest person at the supermarket.'

'And you have better facial hair than most cismen.'

'I do have better facial hair than most cismen.'

'Yeah.' I kiss his forehead, Caleb leaning into the touch. 'Not that it's any better but it's probably the chair. People are just wankers. It's nowt to do with ya.'

I pull him into a hug which he gladly reciprocates, squeezing me tight enough to pop my spine. 'You're the world's best friend.' After a beat of silence, he smacks me on the back without retreating from the hug. 'You have to repeat it.'

I smile into his shoulder. 'I'm the world's best friend.'

'That's right you are, baby girl.'

'Thank you for dinner.' It were my turn to pay but Caleb insisted on taking me on a date outside of our usual rotation. To make me feel better about Cece, I know.

'You're welcome.'

We are indeed soaked by the time we're in the car with Caleb's chair folded in the boot. I turn the key enough to ignite the battery so the heating comes on but I keep the engine off. The bluetooth connects automatically to my phone and resumes playing the Brockhampton album we started on the way here.

'By the way,' Caleb starts, his voice lacking his normal dramatics, 'is it okay if I skip February and pay you petrol money double in March? I've just proper stretched my budget for Drag Expo so I've not got loads extra right now. Which I know is super shit cause you've been teaching me to drive on top of driving me to work and all–'

'That's alright. Pay me whenever you've got the money.' Caleb, lover of spreadsheets that he is, budgets like no one else I know. I have zero worries about him forgetting.

Caleb smiles and I do my best to reciprocate it. I watch the digital seconds count through the outro to Palace and drop back to zero as the next song starts.

'I think I have to end things with Joe.'

Though Kevin Abstract continues to sing over the melancholic piano, the silence from Caleb is frigid. His stare prods my cheek but I keep mine on the speedometer until he drops his head against the seat rest.

'I knew this were gonna happen.' Still, the disappointment in his voice tastes like mould. It festers, spores itching the back of my throat until Caleb snaps his glare to me again. 'You know, we're all friends with her. And I told ya– I told ya this friends-with-benefits tomfoolery would be messy. Now it'll be messy for all of us. I just don't understand why you had to start the damn thing when we all knew you were gonna sabotage it anyway.'

Just as he begins to cool, another spark alights: 'And you've made us all lie to her about your parents for literally six months, you have. I don't like lying, Nikki. You know that.'

I lock and untangle my fingers. He's right. He did tell me. And I did know. But in all the scenarios that I ran through, as though being prepared would make it hurt less, at no point did I imagine I would be the one with the scythe.

I clear my throat in a futile attempt to relieve the itch. 'That were selfish of me. I'm sorry.'

'No,' Caleb groans, 'the problem is that you're never selfish enough. Do it hurt less when you aim low and miss?'

That definitely hurts like a gunshot.

I blink away the tears that form in my waterline. The moisture evaporated from our clothes only to fog up the windows, dulling the street into diffuse globes of light.

'I'm sorry.' From the caress of Caleb's voice, I know he means it. 'I just... God, I wish ya would understand that you're allowed to ask for more. You finally had summat good going, with a good person who actually cares about ya... Can't believe you're gonna toss it away cause you're scared.

'We're all scared. That's what relationships are: leaps of faith.'

Caleb turns off his seat heating, wriggling out of his jacket without undoing his seatbelt. With him preoccupied, I wipe my cheeks, glancing at myself in the rearview mirror. I'm surprised my reflection ain't knotted in strangleweed. That's what I am, isn't it? A parasite that needs to siphon chlorophyll out of everyone around me because I can't produce it myself.

'I won't ask ya to pick sides or owt like that. We can all still be friends,' I mutter, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Revisal: 'You can all still be friends with her.'

Caleb hums sceptically but his gaze lands on me again, light like an autumn leaf. Clingy as one soaked from the rain too. He turns off the radio, ridding me of my final layer of armour before he speaks. 'We aren't all your parents; we aren't gonna leave. You can trust us.'

'I trust you.'

'Yeah, you trust me. But you have to learn to trust other people. It's not a trap.' He reaches for my hand, ceasing my fidgeting. 'Joe loves you.'

Maybe she does—maybe she even loves me non-platonically. But what does that mean at the end of the day? She could move back to London tomorrow for all I know; she came to Manchester to get away from her ex and have meaningless sex, not because she wanted to settle here. We aren't in a relationship; we never talked about that.

The string of hearts constricts around my ribs at the memories of the past month, not the sex or the fake dates we've had since December, but cooking with her, eating with her, holding her hand when I drop her off at home, her bundled in my hoodie while we watch telly, going on walks together as soon as there's a hint of sunlight...

It was so easy to slot her into my life that I didn't even notice when it happened.

But the orchids are dropping their flowers, leaving only stalks and roots—roots that burrow much deeper than owt else will ever get. 'I have to put Cece first. No one else will. And if this thing with Joe makes them feel threatened, I have to end it.'

Caleb squeezes my hand. He dries my tears with the other. 'Remember what Bobbi says: if you treat them like a timebomb, they're going to see themselves like that too.

'I know you feel guilty that you weren't there enough when they were younger. But Nicolás, you were barely an adult. They have a social worker who literally gets paid to keep em safe. It's not supposed to be your job.'

'I'm an adult now! And I still can't do it right. I still didn't notice.' A sob cleaves at the faultline in my chest. I crumble into Caleb's arms and he holds me right. 'How did I not notice? The signs were there and... I should've known better. I should know that, with them, there's no such thing as a coincidence.

'Why can't I fix it? I should be able to. If I loved him enough.'

'It don't work like that. It's not like Daisy can magic me another leg, don't mean she loves me less. You can't love someone out of being ill.'

'I'd do anything. I would do anything.'

Caleb is crying too, tears falling unacknowledged as he strokes my hairline. 'I know. But you do your best.'

The mould finally infiltrates my bloodstream. 'It's not enough.'

Notes

Cuscuta: Colloquially known as dodders but also strangleweed, devil's net, and witch's hair, among other names. Dodders are parasitic vines that tangle onto a host plant to feed from, since the dodder itself is too low in chlorophyll to produce sufficient energy.