Kim grapples with his new motor carriage while Harry grapples with the thought that Kim chose him over his beloved Kineema.

When your shift ends, Kim drives you both back to your place in the precinct 41 Coupris 40 he got the keys for earlier. It's a different experience from being driven in the Kineema. That was smooth and effortless, a perfect synergy between man and machine. But Kim is tense and stiff driving the 40, repeatedly apologising for how jerkily he drives it. He parks outside your place and you walk in in silence. Kim glances over his shoulder at it. It is a look of utmost resentment.

"I'm sure you'll make friends with that thing eventually," you say to him as you step inside and walk to the door of your apartment.

Kim ignores you. "It is time you fixed this place up," he says as he follows you inside.

"I know, I know. I'll get to it."

"Do you want some help?"

"No, I'll do it, I will."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Just let me help you, Harry." There's a sharpness in his tone that tells you he'll be angry if you say no.

"Well, if you want to help."

"I do."

"Okay, I'll let you."

"See, that isn't so hard, is it?"

"It's not that I don't appreciate your help, Kim, but I don't want you to think I need you to do everything for me."

"Hey, I'm not going to let you sit down and watch me do everything myself. I expect some actual effort from you."

"Of course!"

On your break the next day, you stop by the hardware store to pick up some supplies.

"Don't get too many, those are expensive," you say as Kim picks up a bag of screws.

"That's what you say about everything," Kim says, putting down the bag and looking for a smaller one.

You feel a sharp pain in your chest. You've had this conversation before. With her. Some of the arguments got pretty nasty, and the memory of how useless and shitty it made you feel hurts like hell. Maybe she didn't mean to hurt you. Or maybe she did. But you're pretty sure Kim doesn't mean to make you feel bad. "Oh you know how it is, with our wages there's never enough money for anything," you say, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"This might be enough." Kim puts a small bag of screws in the basket you are carrying. "Just a thought, how much do you spend on alcohol?"

You look at him, then look away.

"What percentage of your wages would you say it is?"

"I've… never worked it out," you say, and the thought alone stresses you out.

"I am not saying that I have the answer to all of your financial problems, as I do not have the answer to mine. But the alcohol will not help."

What do you know? You manage to restrain yourself from snapping at him. He has a point, you have to admit it. If you had more spare cash, you could help your mother out. And if she had heating she might not drink as much, and then she wouldn't encourage you to drink more. And she might remember Dora wasn't coming back. That last one seems a stretch, you have to admit.

"You think I'm wrong?" Kim says, and you realise you've been standing there in the middle of the aisle, swinging your basket for several minutes now.

Quick, say something, you think. Everyone has been distracting you from the point at hand, Kim thinks your poverty is caused by alcohol. It'll take something profound to refute that point. "Maybe we wouldn't have financial problems if they paid us more and things didn't cost so much," you say.

"Mm-hmm."

You get the feeling that he isn't listening. Maybe you just need to explain your argument more. "Look, Kim, you just said you have financial problems but you don't drink. So it can't be alcohol's fault. Maybe it's you know, society's fault?"

"Harry, I spent an embarrassing amount of my own money maintaining and upgrading the Kineema," Kim says, and the tiny pause before he says Kineema is very telling.

Once again, you want to ask Kim how he feels about giving up the motor carriage. See if he wants to talk about it. But you're not sure what to say to ease into the topic in a way that won't offend him.

A well-dressed woman sweeps past with her full basket, grabbing the biggest bag of screws on her way.

"But if you got paid more and the parts cost less, it wouldn't been a problem, right?"

Kim sighs. "Harry, I'm not saying that society has no part in your situation, but that isn't something you have any control over. What you can control is your own spending."

You nod as the two of you walk to the end of the aisle.

"But it doesn't matter now, I already gave the keys back."

It occurs to you that Kim chose you over his beloved motor carriage. You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from gleefully expressing that thought to him. Then following it up with something self flagellating, or something arrogant.

"I'm sure it appreciated how well you took care of it," you say instead.

Kim quickly looks away from you. You sense him becoming misty-eyed. You feel like this was the right thing to say, but also that you shouldn't show that you noticed his reaction, as much as you'd like to drop the basket and pull him into a hug.

He loved the Kineema, maybe more than he's ever loved anything else. And he chose you over it. That thought refuses to leave you alone. Could that mean he loves you more? Maybe you're projecting, and that was not the way Kim weighed up the situation. But the possibility puts a stupid grin on your face. Maybe it would make him feel better about his decision if he knew that you loved him back?

Your train of thought is derailed by a marital dispute going on in the aisle you are walking past.

"No honey, that one won't match our new couch," a man is saying to a woman holding a roll of wallpaper. She huffs and puts it back on the shelf.

"A new couch, imagine that," you say, the bitterness that that statement would have contained masked by the thought that Kim loves you! (maybe.)

"I don't think your budget would stretch to that, but a piece of wood under the cushions would fix the hole."

"You're a genius, Kim!"

"There's no need for sarcasm."

"No, really, I hadn't thought of that. It's a good idea."

Kim gives you a slight smile, and you start looking for the lumber aisle.

You're both tired at the end of your shift, you had to deal with some people you'd rather not think about off the clock. But you're at least able to fix the couch, the closet door and start to treat the worst of the damp patches on the wallpaper.

It's almost midnight when you decide to call it a day. You're surprised and embarrassed at the number of things that needed to be fixed in your apartment that you've just been making do with for who knows how long.

You sit down on the couch with a sigh. Then you realise you automatically sat on the far side next to the arm. You shuffle over towards the middle, and a smile spreads over your face. "Hey Kim, look, the middle is safe again," you say.

Kim smiles. "So it is," he says, and sits down beside you. He shuffles towards the middle, and his arm touches yours. You wonder if he did this on purpose. "I wasn't certain it would be very comfortable."

"I think this is the most comfortable my couch has ever been. I don't have to lean over to the side any more, I can lean in any direction I want," you say, moving around and finally leaning against Kim. He's warm and soft and after a moment goes by you feel him rest his weight against you too.

"I guess it was a good idea," he says.

You feel a sensation of warmth in your chest. Once again you're struck by the urge to tell him just how much he means to you. But words fail you, so you say, "You're full of good ideas, Kim. Thank you."

"It's no problem. I'm glad I could help."

You're still leaning against each other. The usual aches and pains niggle at you, but this feels so comfortable, so natural. You wonder if you could slip an arm around his shoulders, or if that would be a step too far. He let you hug him in front of the Next World Mural. But cuddling on the couch is significantly more intimate. You wonder if you had such a dilemma with other people. There were probably others at some point, but your romantic relationship with Dora is the only one that isn't a complete blur. But she is a woman and you are a man, so you imagine things were more clear cut between the two of you. You probably asked her out, and from then on both of you knew where you stood. It didn't stop things from going wrong between you, but you doubted you would have had a major discussion in your head over whether you were allowed to cuddle with her on the couch.

You move your head to ease the pain in your neck, and unwittingly touch Kim's head with yours, knocking the arm of his glasses. "Sorry," you say.

"It's all right," he says, setting them back in position on his nose. He doesn't stop leaning on you.

You don't know if he'd be okay with you cuddling him, so you could ask him. "Kim, could I…" you begin before you can think it through, then falter. Something is stopping you from getting the words out.

"Yes?"

You glance at Kim out of the corner of your eye and you see him doing the same to you. You feel your face burn hot. You find your eyes straying to his lips. His mouth is slightly open. It's not as if you were going to ask him for a kiss. That would be worse. Oh no, now all you can think about is how nice it would be to kiss Kim. You need to stop thinking about this. But you feel like one kiss from him would glue all the broken pieces of your mind back together.

And then maybe he'd leave. And never speak to you again. What about that? Is it really worth it?

"Could I still sleep in the bed with you tonight? I know the couch is fixed but it's still not great to sleep on."

Kim throws his head forward and covers his mouth, making a noise. You realise he is laughing. "Of course, Harry. You don't need to ask me, it's your bed."

"I know. But you're my guest and I want you to be comfortable."

"It's fine. You haven't hit me in your sleep yet," he says, getting up.

"I'd never do that, I'd stay awake all night if there was even the slightest risk."

"There's no need to go that far. Working with a sleep deprived partner would be worse," Kim says. He looks around the room. "This place looks much better already. Good job."

You return Kim's smile and feel your chest swell. He knows how hard this was for you, even with his help. Does he also realise just how much you enjoy his praise? Kim runs a hand through his hair, and his eyes crinkle at the sides. He looks away, still smiling. You wonder just how it could be possible to find out if he loves you. If you're right, there's nothing to worry about. But you genuinely don't know how you would cope if you're wrong. You feel like you would die instantly. It's too much of a risk to ask directly. There's no way you'd be able to force the words out of your mouth. You have to think of something else.