When he gets home, Fitz looks up at him and raises an eyebrow. But then he registers Dan’s distraught face, and gets to work trying to lick away his frown. Dan pushes him weakly and Fitz has to settle for sniffing his hand instead, which is his version of saying, ‘There, there,’ just like Dan does when Fitz has got himself overexcited about something.

Dan takes off his clothes and gets into the shower, leans his head against the cold white tiles and lets himself sag. He ran away, like Fitz does from the vacuum cleaner. Like his patients do from their problems and fears. He thinks of what might have happened if he’d stayed. Thinks of his cousin, who throws himself into anything and everything with gusto. How he’ll always dance, no matter where he is, whenever his favourite song is played. Dan doesn’t want to be here. He wants to be at Atticus’s house. He wants to be somebody else.

He reaches for peppermint shower gel and scrubs at his skin until it’s red, until he’s exfoliated something of himself away, scrubbed off some of the shyness. He brushes his teeth till his gums bleed. Washes his clean hair until it squeaks.

When he gets out, he puts on his running shorts and a long-sleeved Nike T-shirt, then adds his bike helmet.

‘Fitz. I’ve got to go back. You understand.’

Fitz is fine with it all. He’s had his quick wee outside and is happy to be at home, with his sock.

He curls round, head on his paws, and is soon dreaming of seagulls and squirrels, his tail occasionally wagging, legs twitching.

It’s cold and it’s dark and there are no lights along the seafront as Dan cycles. He forgot his music in his hurry, but he can hear Rufus Wainwright in his head and his feet pound a rhythm on the pedals.

By the time he gets to Atticus’s door the sweat has cooled and steam rises from his shirt. He doesn’t speak when he presses the buzzer and abandons his bike in the narrow hallway. The door is already open when he gets to the top of the stairs. Atticus is there, barefoot, wearing the same clothes, his shoulders slightly sagging.

Dan jogs the last three steps and doesn’t stop until he hits Atticus’s chest. The force of him pushes Atticus back through the door and they crash into the hat stand. Before he can right himself, Dan is pulling Atticus over the finish line, completing his first Ironman. Finally, he crosses the ocean between them.

Their noses bump, but Atticus’s exclamation is swallowed by Dan’s kiss. Atticus keeps his arms by his sides, not responding until Dan tugs at his hair and tilts his face to the side. ‘Please.’