By the time I'm standing outside Joe's door, I'm surprised I haven't gnawed a hole through my cheek. Tears already bite at my eyes but thankfully don't gather. The shreds of the string of hearts tangle in my gut, somehow still managing to wind tight after I've torn it apart.

Joe beams when she opens the door, tooth gems sparkling, and the string of hearts yanks at my insides. 'Hey.'

I've not seen her for thirteen days and, like a stray arriving home, I nearly whimper. My body jolts with the need to get to her. I want to jump around in circles, wagging my tail.

I tuck my hands into my pockets instead. 'Hiya.' Even the greeting leaves me like the warning tremor before an earthquake.

I nearly fall to my knees crossing the threshold. I'm ready to beg—there ain't no one I can beg owt from but I would grovel if it meant I could do this without hurting her. Because it will hurt her. Even I'm not so blinded by insecurity that I could say she ain't caught no feelings, even if it is for a fabricated version of me.

Joe smiles again, though understanding is heavy on her face. 'You're ending it, aren't you?'

We watch each other through the blur of tears.

'I–'

'It's okay.'

Rather than kick me out of her apartment, she guides me to her plush lilac sofa though she leaves a foot of space between us. Of course Joe allows me the opportunity to explain why I'm dumping her. She were always too kind for me.

Resting my forearms on my knees, I hunch over, staring at her graphic rug. Joe don't say owt, leaving the silence to take root while I move the words in my mouth, clashing them against my teeth like a bitter candy.

'Joe, I...' I wrench my focus from my wrung hands to look at her. The least I can do is look at her. 'I've not been... entirely honest with you.'

Panic drains her smile. Her inhale turns sharp and she leans just a fraction away from me. Verdict: I'm no better than Tamsin.

I tear the words from my gums before she can construct theories that I'm a serial murderer. 'My parents... left.'

'Back to Colombia?' The familiar lines appear between her brows, the sight of which alone makes the string of hearts tug again. Her eyes soften but confusion is obvious.

'Yeah. Thirteen years ago. They left back to Colombia thirteen years ago.'

Watching realisation crack over her face unfurls long vines of dread that crawl up my throat. My stomach is a thicket of stinging nettle. The illusion finally wilts and she sees me as the anaemic parasite that I am, the vibrant flower revealing itself as a trap. My tears put a valiant effort into blocking Joe's horror from my sight but it's too pungent to be buried even when the details of her features smear.

Verdict: I'm no better than Tamsin. I've lied to her the whole time. I've allowed her to feel secure when I knew she was standing above a trapdoor.

Joe shifts close enough to grab my hand. When did it start shaking?

The tremble spreads to her voice. 'Nicolás... I'm so sorry. All those times I kept asking about them and I just... I should've noticed it made you uncomfortable.' Wrapping her other arm around me, Joe pulls me into her. I'm frigid in the embrace.

Why isn't she kicking me out of the apartment? Why isn't she threatening to phone the police? Why isn't she confronting me as a liar?

The way she holds me melts all my stitches and though I clench my abdomen and screw up my face, tears start to spill. I've had enough of crying—I'm well done with it. But Joe's caresses siphon the tears out of me at record speed.

Her embrace is a punch to the gut at the same time that it soothes the pain. It hurts too much to be this close to her, and yet I lean heavier against her shoulder.

'I came home from school one day,' I say, I think mostly so I don't start sobbing. 'I were eleven and Cece were four. There were money on the table with a note that said they couldn't take it here. We lasted a month just the two of us before the neighbours noticed. So we went into care.

'It really is a lottery. I got really lovely guardians and I stayed with em until I moved to halls. I still see them a few times a year. Honestly, it were nicer with them than it were with my parents.

'Cece... They didn't.'

My forehead on Joe's shoulder, I stare at the rectangles in her flannel like they're hiding a blueprint for a time machine. If only I'd fought harder for us to stay together...

'They came to live with me after they ran out of other options. I'd not seen em for a year at that point. It took so long for them to trust me even a little bit.'

I force myself to sit up, drying my eyes to focus on her calf-like ones. My love for her is so deeply rooted that it's a miracle I didn't rip out ribs with the leaves. There were roots too deep in my bonemarrow for there to be any chance of plucking them out. They're all inflamed like in-grown hairs.

'I can't let them feel unsafe with me.'

'I understand.'

On instinct, her hand finds her necklace though it's not the north star. She's still wearing the familiar pendant but above it, a shorter gold necklace plants a simple crucifix. Her intended sentence stutters as she follows my stare.

'I've gone to mass with Caleb these past two weeks,' she explains, the tangent somehow natural even when it suspends our tears like we're not in the middle of splitting up. 'He's so affirmed in his faith so I thought I'd go along. His church is lovely. My relationship with God is still a mess but I suppose I'm open to mending it. I mean, my faith will never look the way it did growing up, but that doesn't mean I can't have any.'

Joe's hand is still in mine and my thumb massages her knuckles for one last time. 'That's brilliant, Joe. Caleb will be happy, too.'

'Thanks... And thank you for telling me this.' Despite the tears pearled in her lashes, Joe smiles, flashing her tooth gems again. 'You've never told anymore before, have you?' Humour laces her voice and the remnants of roots still tangled in my heartstrings tug; pain shoots through my chest.

She's right. Save for NSPCC and the police when Mrs Khatun phoned them, I haven't ever told anymore. I usually tell people my parents are dead because it saves the awkward silence and at least the pity then has soft edges. Shayna and Desmond read about it in my case file. I never had to tell Caleb; he were my best mate when it happened. Rishi, Allan, Parker and everyone else who's come into my life and stuck have been informed by him on my behalf.

'I guess you finally learnt to talk about yourself, huh?' Joe's attempted joke is liquid. She squeezes my hand. 'It's okay, Nicolás. Don't feel bad. I know that you...'

The sentence tapers off as Joe drops her gaze. With a steading breath, she looks at me but the threads holding her together are thinning.

'Maybe we both lost ourselves in it a little. But thank you.'

This is definitely the weirdest breakup I've ever had.

'What?'

She smiles again. 'You made me feel so loved, so safe. Tamsin convinced me that I have to earn the good by dealing with all the pain and you just... you're so kind, all the time, without expecting anything back. So thank you.'

'Kind?' I repeat. 'But I've lied to ya for half a year. And I continued to lie even when I knew it were traumatising for ya. And I had romantic feelings for ya the whole time which is disrespectful of your boundaries.'

Joe stares at me, lips parted, until she bubbles with laughter. 'Nicolás, that's not what boundaries are. Besides, I already fancied you when we started too. I didn't think we could work out, well, because I thought I was broken and incompetent and that I had to have everything figured out until I'd be worth love. So, I thought, if I had something to offer you as practice, then at least I'd get to spend time with you. Quite stupid, really.'

My tears, which have established tracks on my cheeks by now, pause. My shock earns a few more chuckles from Joe.

'Imagine if we'd shared our feelings then...'

I allow myself to submerge into the vision she creates: us in a relationship, real dates—not unlike our practice ones except she kisses me each time I make her laugh, "my partner", holding hands in public, Caleb's and everyone else's endorsement rather than reluctant resignation, an actual introduction to Cece, maybe she'd even introduce me to her parents and sisters...

I shake my head. Wouldn't have worked anyway: I'm not capable.

The honeymoon phase couldn't be falser. It's good we ended this now before she discovers just how short my ability to make her feel loved is. I've been knotted up in it for months but Joe deserves the Amazon. And that's summat I'll never be able to give.

'I do love you, Nicolás.'

My gaze tethers to hers. It would be cruel of me not to believe her when she's looking at me like this. So I do. And when she adds that maybe it's just not the right time for us, as much as it feels like the sort of empty placation you'd see on an Instagram post, I believe that too.

'I love you, Josephine.'

Notes

This chapter title is in reference to Gabriel García Márquez's novella Chronicle of a Death Foretold.