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Zach hits his head on the ceiling of his mum’s attic for the third time before deciding he doesn’t need whatever is left in these boxes anyway. He grabbed most of the stuff that’s been filling up the small loft space the other day. Then he dropped a box on the floor and broke his favourite childhood mug. He’ll blame Devon.

“Bruv,” Devon shouts up to him. Zach clenches his teeth. He’s not sure when they went from being best friends to this. Devon’s only two years older than him, but it always used to feel monumental when they were younger. Zach used to run after him at the park, and he was always so desperate to go out with him and his friends. He used to pretend not to notice when they smoked cigarettes, and he felt guilty not telling their mum, but he would do anything that meant Devon didn’t make him stay at home.

There was something magical about having an older brother. Zach thought he’d already done everything, seen everything, even though he was barely a teenager himself. He never thought Devon was in trouble, because he was good at hiding if he was. Their mum used to shout, she’d cry, she’d run after Devon in the street, and Zach never understood why. He just wanted to sit at the park on the benches and watch Devon light small sticks on fire.

Zach remembers being happier as a child. Having more love and wonderment. He remembers wanting his life to amount to more than this. He doesn’t think it went away entirely when he started hanging out with Devon, but Devon sure helped shift it along. Zach stole something for the first time at thirteen. Just a cheap phone. Well, it’s cheap now; it wasn’t cheap at the time. Devon had been pressuring him to do it for weeks, and Devon and his mates had laughed and whooped and hollered, and Zach had cried himself to sleep.

He told his mum the next morning, and she hugged him, kissed him on the forehead, and told him there was a space on the local rugby club. It was close to her second job, and she used to pick him up on her way home.

Zach still tried to go out with Devon on his own. He asked Devon if he could help him with his homework, or if he wanted to come watch a match, but it fell on deaf ears. Zach wonders if Devon ever really liked him. He likes to think he did, once. He always made sure Zach had a sandwich for school, and he never stole his pocket money.

Something shifted when Zach started doing well at school. Never English or maths, but he excelled at the physical classes. It’s why they stopped eating microwave meals—he was able to put a half-decent meal together for cheap. It’s why he grew into his lanky legs. Zach chose to spend his time on the rugby field, not down at the park, and that was the end of any relationship between them.

Zach always tried to get that back, but he thinks he was aiming for a dream rather than reality. It’s why he signed a contract he could barely understand at fourteen. Devon told him it was good for him, for the family, and Zach had trusted him. Now, he’s the one still hurting from it. Zach didn’t understand what a lifetime contract meant then. He gets it now.

“What’s up?” Zach asks, manoeuvring down the ladder with the last of his boxes. Zach has never moved somewhere he felt comfortable enough to bring the last of the things from his mum’s place. He never feels like he’ll be somewhere long enough to bother getting old action figures and books out, so what’s the point? It feels different this time, and it’s barely been a month.

“Ma’s gone. So, I’m going to hit up Bleakers.”

“Gone where?” Zach asks, placing the boxes on the floor. His mum goes out, of course, but usually Zach goes with her, or someone comes to pick her up. “And you’re meant to be staying away from Bleakers, De.” Even being near Bleakers is in direct violation of his licence. Zach tries not to think about it.

Devon scoffs, his entire body moving with the effort of it. “You gonna dob me in like that bitch you live with?”

“Call her that one more time,” Zach replies. Zach won’t hit him—Devon knows that—but with every insult he throws at Mali, Zach’s sympathy for his brother falls. Zach would defend a woman even if he didn’t know her, but the protectiveness he feels over Mali is sunken into his bones. She looked terrified when Devon was cornering her, and he didn’t have to. He could have explained, walked away, done anything other than get in her face. Zach’s not sure how to forgive him.

“Can’t believe you sold out your fam for some pussy.”

Zach does push him against the wall this time, his forearm heavy against Devon’s chest. Devon looks at least thirty-percent nervous, but Zach is over doing everything for him only for it to be thrown back in his face.

“Where’s Mum gone?”

Devon shoves him off, but they both know he only moved because Zach let him.

“She’s in her chair.”

Zach frowns, and Devon sucks on his teeth.

“She’s not gone outside,” he says, as if that’s obvious. “She’s gone loopy.”

“You still have to sit and talk to her,” Zach replies. He hates how Devon talks about their mum, but he doesn’t have the brainpower to deal with that right now.

“Nah. I got plans. She won’t know if I’m here or not.”

Zach sighs. “De.” He doesn’t want his mum to think she’s a burden, because she’s not. Zach has things to do for her, and what he needs is for Devon to at least be around to talk to her.

“Do you have a couple hundred?” Devon asks, and Zach slowly closes his eyes. He used to give Devon so much—money, time, a home—but it became apparent that it wasn’t helpful to either of them. Devon thinks Zach’s a prick who is giving up on his family. Zach thinks it’s the only way to keep his family together. Either way, Devon slams the door as he goes. Zach carries a couple of boxes downstairs, placing them at his feet as he sits opposite his mum.

“Hey, Ma.” His mum looks over at him, vague recollection on her face. It must be awful. Zach wonders how much being on her own isn’t helping. If he gets her a new place, it’s not like he can be around longer. He could look into getting her carers again. The last time he enquired about it, it wasn’t something the state could do more than once a day because she’s not high-risk, and he couldn’t afford to go private. She’d hate that as well—having random people in her house.

But if the sponsors Mali wants him to get go through, he could afford a place for the both of them. His heart sinks a little at the thought. It’s always been his plan—to live somewhere and have space for his mum. Independent space, but space. Now, he feels so guilty about it, but he likes being with Mali. He likes the way she talks to Buffy as if he’s a human. He likes the way she organises the spices, even though she can’t put a spice rack together. He likes the way all his clothes are slowly starting to smell like her. He likes the way she boils twelve eggs at a time because she knows he has to eat a lot of protein.

He likes her. More than he thought he would. And he’s not even brave enough to initiate a conversation. Most of the time, he loosely hangs around the kitchen or hallway and hopes to run into her. She can make a conversation about anything, and it’s always the highlight of his day if he manages to figure out a way to get her to see him. He doesn’t want to leave her. Not her life, not her house, not her mind.

Zach knows the feeling will not be mutual. He knows he’s plonked himself in her life, and she barely had a moment to decide if it was a good idea before he started sleeping there. He’s trying to keep himself as small as possible. There’s no new furniture, he tries to coax Buffy out of his room at night, and he’s trying to stop looking at her for too long. Oh, how he could look at her. How he thinks about her. How he dreams about her.

“Hi, sweetie,” his mum says, then turns back to the television. When this happens, Zach isn’t sure what to do. It’s been years, and he still hasn’t worked out what to do now. Sometimes he sits with her and folds laundry, batch cooks, or plays cards. Sometimes he tells her random stories from his childhood, and she smiles like she remembers parts of it. He has managed to figure out that she reacts better to newer news. He wonders if it’s because she knows she doesn’t know, so there’s no part of her brain trying to remember things that aren’t in reach. Zach just never has anything to tell her. He’s told her about the team, the sponsorships, the new house.

“There’s a girl,” he says, looking through the box of stuff in front of him for something to pay attention to that isn’t his mum showing no interest in the first girl he’s ever been thinking about. He’s not even sure how he’s interested. Well, he knows he thinks about her all the time. He knows he wants her to meet his mum properly—on one of her good days rather than one of her bad ones. He knows she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

But he’s not sure he can do anything about it. She’s the nicest person he’s ever met, and he’s a dick. Mali’s got so much to offer a person, and he grunts and has baggage bigger than himself. She’s friends with everyone at work in a freakishly short amount of time (the other night she went out with Frankie! Who even sees their work friends outside of nine to five?) so it’s only a matter of minutes before she thinks he’s a bellend too. His thoughts about how he’s interested in her won’t matter. He won’t be able to do anything about it.

His mum sits up, pausing the television. “The girl that was here the other day?”

“Yeah.”

“Oooh, she’s cute.”

Zach smiles. “She is cute.”

“Are you crushing on her?” his mum asks, a sparkle in her eye he’d have to be blind to miss. He tsks and pulls out the old action figures from his childhood boxes. He used to spend so much time in his bedroom playing with these. He never thought they’d be able to afford a real action man, and he remembers how happy he’d been when he pulled the paper away on his birthday. There was a time—probably when he was about fifteen and got his first job—that he was sad about this action figure. He grumbled about it for months, but his mum had to work so hard to get it for him, and he felt so guilty about it.

Now, he looks at it fondly. She loves him. She always has.

“I’m too old to crush,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be silly,” she replies, shuffling in her seat. “You had your first crush at six. Do you remember?” He-Man, but everyone had a crush on He-Man.

Zach wants to ask her how she remembers that but not who he is now. “He was a cartoon,” he says.

His mum laughs, her hands clasped in front of her. “You loved him so much.”

“I liked his arms!”

“And what about this girl? Does she have nice arms?”

“She has nice everything.” He sighs. “She’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I’m not the right guy for her.”

His mum frowns. “Why ever not?”

Zach shrugs. “I’m a bit of a dick.”

His mum gasps, and he laughs, knowing that if she knew who he truly was, she’d throw a slipper at him for daring to swear in her house.

“If you are such a d-word ,” she says, with a knowing glance, “then why are you sitting around on a Thursday lunchtime with an old lady you hardly know?”

“You’re my favourite old lady,” he replies, and she smiles.

“Tell me more about this girl.”

Zach laughs. “Alright. Let me text her quick. I think she needs stuff from the shops too.”

“Oooh, can you get me orange chocolate? Are you coming back? Will you bring her?”

Zach works out how to answer her rapid-fire questions.

“There’s some in the cupboard, but I will stock up for you.”

“And the girl?”

“She’s at work,” he replies. “But there’s a family game day in a few weeks. You can meet her there if you want?”

He sends a quick message instead of overthinking it for twenty minutes. It’s only asking if she wants him to grab her anything from the shop. But yesterday she sent him a delayed response to a joke, and he’d thought about it all evening as she sat reading, then he lay in his room with the door open hoping to see her walk past. Whenever he thinks he misses her, he finds a stupid meme and sends it to her, then waits to hear her laugh.

His mum gasps, her hands coming in front of her face. “I can go, even though I’m not family?”

Zach bites the inside of his cheek. “You can do whatever you want, Ma.”

His phone vibrates, and he avoids his mum’s gaze as he smiles.

Mali : yes!

Mali : where are you going?

Mali : can I meet u there?

Mali : Zachhhhh

Mali : xxxxxxx

Zach : You can just send one text, you know?

Mali : but you take eight years to respond

Mali : and I’m bored

Mali : I need you to entertain me

Zach : ASDA in fifteen? I can pick you up

Mali : It’s alright, I need to get out the office rn

Mali : Toby is here

Mali : derogatory

Mali : meet u there!!!!

Mali : xxxxxxx

Zach laughs as he tells her he’ll see her soon. His mum hums in her chair. “Such a crush.”

Zach sticks his tongue out like a child. “Anything else for your list? What do you fancy for dinner?” He wonders if he should take her out. She rarely gets to go out anymore, though Devon has taken her on a couple of walks and trips around the garden to hang the washing out. Or so he says.

“Oh. What about lamb chops? I haven’t had mash in so long. And can we go to a laundrette this weekend, if you’re not busy?”

“Is your machine broken?” he asks, folding the list and walking towards the back room, but there’s nothing there other than laundry. More laundry than she ever has at her house. Zach rarely does it for her—she likes to keep on top of cleaning.

“Ma, where are your machines?”

She looks ashamed, which is not a look he’s ever seen on his mum before. At least, not since…

“Mum?”

“Devon needed to borrow them, but he hasn’t brought them back yet.”

“Devon lives here with you, Ma,” Zach says, fury rising through his bones. Zach wonders what he sold them for. If he’s high when he comes home. If he has any ability to look after their mum. Zach needs to get her out of here. Her or Devon. Zach could move back in. It wouldn’t kill him.

“What else has he borrowed?”

“Just those and a small bit of cash, nothing big.”

“Ma.”

“He needs a little help, that’s all. My other boy’s so good—he’s so good—and I don’t have to worry about him, but Devon needs some help.”

Zach wonders if she ever knows that he does need her to worry about him, even a little. He bends down to kiss the top of her head.

“I’ll sort the washing, okay, and bring it back when I drop the food off. If I’m going to the laund, I might as well use the big machines.”

“I’ll change my sheets,” she says, using his hand to hoist herself from her chair. Then, before he can turn, she hugs him. She never hugs him when she’s lost in her thoughts, but she hugs him now, and he hugs her back.

“You’re such a good boy.”

“Love you, Mum.”