I drop Allan's Nintendo DS onto my lap as Mario falls between the clouds and the death music plays. 'So close!' he groans as I hand it to him for his turn. We've been stuck on this level since Stoke-On-Trent and the train is steadily approaching Birmingham now. I watch over Allan's shoulder as he jumps into the level of Super Mario Bros yet another time.

We're headed to London for Caleb's Drag Expo. On the other side of the aisle, Rishi and Caleb are, not surprisingly, bickering. 'London is the worst city in this country,' Rishi declares. 'It's full of rubbish and London Eye is nothing like the Eye of Sauron. It's just some lame fecking ferris wheel. Why do people make such a song and dance about it? This whole country can disappear for all I care.'

'And yet, you moved to this country.'

'Oh, darling, you needed me. The drag scene here would wilt if it relied only on you English queens.'

Eilidh snorts from the chair behind him and Caleb whips his head around to glare at her over the headrest. 'Why are you laughing? You're my girlfriend, you're supposed to support me.'

She does her best to tuck her laughter into a gentle smile. 'Aye, I support you. Just cannae support the English.'

'It's not my fault I were born here.'

'Should've tried harder to be born somewhere else,' Rishi says, examining his nails.

'Next time, I'll be sure to petition God.' Caleb rolls his eyes almost as dramatically as he sighs, grumbling probably louder than he intends: 'We all hate England, let's just blow the whole thing up.'

'Maybe,' I say, 'let's not talk about blowing things up on a public train full of people.'

Caleb's stare staggers to mine, confused as his brain struggles to compute the situation and then his eyes get as wide as saucers. He peers over the top of his chair again. 'I were just kidding. I don't have any bombs.' He beams at my mortified expression. 'That made it better, right? And they say autistics are bad at socialising. Fake news.'

'If you get kicked off the train, the rest of us are staying on,' Rishi says.

'What? No, Nikki will get kicked off the train with me.'

'I'm not a terrorist,' I protest.

'Neither am I! If the police come, we'll just tell em it was Allan.'

Allan's attention darts up from Mario Bros. 'Why?'

'You're a white cishet man. You could literally be a terrorist and they wouldn't care.'

'Fine, I'll be the terrorist.'

'No one has to be a terrorist!' Rishi exclaims. Wouldn't be surprised if he did explode and took the whole train with him. 'We could just stop talking about terrorism. Eilidh, come sit next to your terrorist boyfriend.' He snatches his bag, steps over Caleb, and shoves me. 'Ma says it's my turn next to the white man.'

'Oh, partner swap!' Caleb calls out, loud enough for the whole car to hear again. 'It's like we're in a swingers club.'

I'm ushered out of my seat for Rishi to take it and as Eilidh has moved over to sit with Caleb, the only vacant seat left is beside Joe. I linger in the aisle, clinging onto the back of Caleb's seat when the train veers through a notch in the tracks.

'Can I sit here?'

Joe picks at her new acrylic nails, equally uncertain about the thought of us sitting together. I'm about to offer to go somewhere else when she nods. 'Of course.'

It's incredible how we can be in a crowded train car and still, the moment I sit beside her, the world consists of only us. My body instinctually seeks hers out—her head on my shoulder, fingers interlocked, my hand on her thigh, anywhere where I can touch enough skin to write "I love you, I love you, I love you" a million times over.

But I tuck myself as close to the aisle as possible and cross my ankles. There will be no manspreading that will let as much as a knee touch hers. I honestly do my best to watch the spring greenery glide outside the window, but how am I meant to be interested in the sky when there's Joe?

Her hair is in fingerwaves again and her pink and blue eyeliner matches the bisexual tote currently pooled at her feet. There's no shimmer in the inner corners today. Better for it, or I'd stare without blinking for the remaining two hours. Maybe I've complimented her on it one too many times and now she can't apply it without thinking of me. Or maybe I'm delusional and it's just a coincidence.

I try to cough the reveries out of my throat. 'So...' I twist my rings around my fingers. 'How are ya feeling, going back to London?'

Joe sighs and turns to the window. Verdict: Stupid fucking question.

'I'm not homesick if that's what you mean. I'm a little stressed, to be honest. But I think it'll be good—going with friends, making some new memories, if that makes sense.' I've barely had the time to nod before, wringing her hands, Joe adds, 'And I've actually got a date.'

I didn't expect that to feel like I've been torn in half. I want to curl up on the muddy train floor like a wounded dog and sob.

The way she says it reveals that she's spent at least an hour contemplating, probably with the aid of Eilidh, whether she should tell me. Maybe she thinks that I "have the right know", that I should hear it from her. It's kind, I suppose, but I need to scream until my arteries splinter.

Reminder: We're well into March, it's been a month since we split, she's allowed to move on—it's good that she is, really.

Reminder 2: I love her. But you need more than love for a relationship. Like Desmond always taught me; love is nice, but that's not what determines success. And I've never been in a relationship so my chances of success are probably ten per cent. 

I pin up a smile. 'That's mint. Hope you have a good time.' The words echo in the canyon of my chest.

Do that mean she's planning to move back? Or do it just feel safer to break the ice of getting back into dating in a city where she don't live? She did just say she's not homesick but you never know, maybe she'll see London and remember that it is her home. Maybe she'll fall in love...

Still picking at her nails, Joe glances at me. 'Ze seems really nice so, yeah, I think it'll be nice.'

'Champion, that. Yeah...'

On second thought: One month is too soon. I still have her false lashes on their ceramic dish in my bathroom.

          The train gets stuck in the middle of fuck-all for nearly an hour and despite all the NutriLents protein bars I packed and the in-case-of-emergency vegan salami that's been at the bottom of my bag for months, by the time we exit the Euston railway station, we're all a few minutes from wilting with hunger. Don't help that the late March sun is having some sort of dick-measuring contest with the easterly winds and it's somehow freezing and sweltering at the same time.

'What tube are we taking?' Eilidh asks, rolling Caleb's suitcase of drag supplies to the public transit map that displays the anatomy of the city. 'Or are we taking the bus?'

Everybody turns to Joe who squirms under the attention. 'Depends on where we're going. The hostel?'

'I'm hungry,' Rishi states and Eilidh recalibrates her question: 'Where do yous wanna eat?'

Allan raises a hand like we're in school. 'I want pasta–'

'Pasta?' Caleb exclaims, seizing Allan by the waist of his hoodie because he can't reach the collar. 'Brexit means Brexit, mate. And you wanna eat pasta? From Italy? Think again. You are eating beans on toast and beans on toast only if you wanna live in this country.'

Rishi covers his face. He needs Parker to keep him sane but they're only coming tomorrow morning. 'I'm too hungry for this. Also I am not paying for pasta at London restaurant prices when I could just as well make it for two quid from Aldi.'

I cut over Allan's rebuttal. 'Reckon Joe should decide.' I have to bludgeon the grin off my face at her alarmed expression. 'This is your city, ya gotta know one good restaurant that won't bankrupt us.'

My phone pings and I'm glad to have my attention yanked away from Joe before I salivate on her like a dog. Cece has sent me a photo of magenta flowers with the text "spring!!!". As I watch, new messages pop through.

Cece🖤🦋: thought u would like

Cece🖤🦋: <3

Cece🖤🦋: i love you

Immediately, the bar at the top of the screen switches to "last active: 18:23". Even with the orchids in my chest, I chuckle at the visual of them throwing their phone across the room like it's about to explode.

You: Those are called red campion. If you keep an eye on them, you might see some tawny mining bees: very cute and fuzzy 🥰 Thanks for the pic ❤

You: I love you, Cece.

'Isn't it a bit early to eat dinner anyway?' Allan asks over Caleb and Rishi's bickering and they both round on him, ready for murder.

'You ate all my Quavers! It's the fecking Great Hunger all over again.'

'Okay,' I interrupt with my best primary school teacher voice, 'I reckon we should get summat small to eat first so we don't kill each other and leave our stuff at the hostel, and then think over proper food.'

So we disperse into various queues, agreeing to meet at the same spot as soon as we've acquired whatever we want to eat.

Allan, the only person to come with me into the small Sainsbury's in the corner of the station, watches me look through the ready sandwiches for one that's vegan. 'How are you feeling?'

I consider playing dumb but what's the point?

'I'm alright.'

He squeezes my arm, a non-verbal "I know you're not". And no, I suppose I'm not. But this weekend's about Caleb; he's been auditioning for Drag Expo for years. So I'll deal with the desire to step right into London traffic every time my eyes accidentally graze hers.

Sainsbury's is furthest away and we're the last to return, finding the others in a ring, buzzing with excitement. As we get close enough, it becomes obvious that it's not just food that's caused the shift in mood.

'What's happened?' Allan calls when we're still a few metres away.

Joe turns, her focus stumbling over to us. The celebratory spirit is trampled into summat meek. 'I got the internship. With Dr Wijaya. They just rung me.'

Allan races forward to hug her so that she spills some of her Burger King chips. They've separated when I reach the group with dragged feet, fidgeting with the strap of my gym bag. Everyone suddenly has summat super important to check on their phones. If we were still whatever we were before, I'd say summat along the lines of "I did say you would" but whatever we are now ain't "I told you so" territory.

'Congratulations, Joe. That's brilliant.'

She attempts a smile, jabbing a chip into the salt and pepper at the bottom of the paper sleeve. 'Thanks. And thank you for encouraging me to apply.'

On second thought: I can't deal with it. I can't take it. The canyon is too deep.

Notes

Silene dioica: Red campion.

Qavers: A type of potato crisp.

The Great Hunger: AKA the Irish Potato Famine.