A/N: In this story, Syed conflicts with being gay and being a Muslim, but his kiss with Christian is not simply attraction. He is truly in love with him.

This is by no means my best work and in places I am extremely disappointed with it. Please review and let me know what you liked and overall whether it is a good or bad read. Concrit on the WRITING ONLY please, nothing concerning your personal problems with my chosen subject matter.

DISCLAIMER: I in no way mean to offend anyone of any faith with this work of fiction. I write this purely as a viewer of EastEnders, and in no way claim to have any knowledge on the subject of homosexuality in Islam or what to do when faced with it as a situation. I in no way support decent, respectable members of any community disobeying their faith, but in no way support prohibiting someone's right to their sexuality. Please do not read if you do not like.

Contrary to what I suppose could easily be popular opinion, I do not write this in an attempt to shock, upset, or in any way invoke any form of controversy. I write this purely to explore and express my interest in a subject I feel has many viewpoints. I am exploring a perfectly valid one of these in order to increase my understanding of the emotional turmoil that people in these situations doubtlessly face.

EastEnders is registered trademark of the British Broadcasting Corporation and I do not claim to own it or any of its characters, settings or concepts/storylines. I gain no profit from the writing of this story.

OK, think that just about covers me from upsetting ANYONE!! Let me know if you feel there is anything I need to add. =D

***

"What the hell does that mean?"

Christian looks confused. Haraam isn't a term he has come across before, unsurprisingly, as he cannot speak nor understand Arabic. But he's not stupid; Syed can tell from his eyes, his posture, his whole damn beautiful being that he knows haraam is nothing good. He asks the shorter man what the hell that means, and for a fraction of a second, as his eyes bore deep into Christian's, Syed finds himself not quite knowing.

What he's doing is haraam. It's wrong. Dirty. Forbidden. Against all Allah wants. To look at Christian, to look at any male, and see a soul he wants to nurture, skin he wants to touch, lips he wants to kiss, just simply isn't right. It's completely and utterly wrong. Haraam.

But Syed isn't all heavy breathing and pounding blood and lust and want and sex, no, Syed can be tender and sweet and gentle, too, all in the one second he looks at Christian. He can soar like an eagle or slump like a cripple, high with power, or low with vulnerability, as long as he is mirroring the man he loves, and as long as no-one notices. He can, in the time it takes for eyes to learn to open, simultaneously want to pepper hot kisses all over his body, and take him in his arms and hold him with all the angelic innocence he possesses. He is in love.

Islam is an important part of his life. Syed Masood does not question Islam. But now, as his mother and Bushra and the countless people he doesn't know but for some reason must impress surround him, he hates it. And he simply cannot see why him being in love could be haraam.

Why is his happiness wrong?

All of this in a heartbeat, and another heartbeat to confirm that none of that can be voiced, and half a heartbeat to formulate a new answer.

"It's against God's will."

Christian's hurt, and it shines in his face, and Syed wants nothing more than he wants to hold him. If only he could take him in his arms and soothe him, and explain slowly and methodically and painfully that when he says those words, they aren't directed at Christian. They're directed at him, at Syed, because as much as he understands his religion and as much as he knows he just shouldn't be gay, he clearly needs to hear the message more clearly as he still is. And the niggling tiny part of his mind says this, and the rest of his brain repeats that he cannot choose who he loves, but the smaller part is always stronger...

"'Cause this isn't just about religion, is it?"

And later in the kitchen this is still all he can think of, and suddenly, he realises, he has his lips on Christians, and he doesn't know why he put them there. But he knows that he can't pull them away.

It isn't as harsh or as passionate as one would expect – wrongly, too – when one hears the words 'gay love affair'. It's soft and slow and sensuous, and Syed hopes against everything he has that Christian feels the sheer intensity of his conflict. There are no longer two warring sides to his brain; both sides are simultaneously screaming right, right, right, and wrong, wrong, wrong, and there's just too much emotion.

When they pull apart he can't breathe, and neither can Christian, but Syed's lungs seem to be so messed up that his vision blurs, though that probably has something to do with the tears that he's just acknowledged. He stumbles forward slightly and Christian stays put, snaking his arms around his waist and holding him carefully in place, almost completely leaning into the taller man's body. He looks down at him with eyes filled with concern.

Syed straightens up slightly, placing his forehead against Christians, closing his eyes and breathing out through pursed lips. Then slowly, cautiously, he starts to rock back and forth like a pendulum, just the upper half of his body, so that his head gently hits against Christians with each swing. Not hard enough to hurt, but not so gentle that it can be ignored. He starts to mutter, and in his despair he slowly gets louder and louder.

"Haraam, haraam, haraam, haraam, haraam..."

It's slow and sad and almost hypnotic, like some sort of tortuous mantra, reminding him of what he should be but in no way helping him change.

Soon his breathing and his speaking are erratic, and he's swaying with no sense of direction, simply shaking his head harshly, eyes screwed shut and almost shrieking. The tears no longer cloud his vision, as they are free-falling down his cheeks, from the motion of rocking and from the loss of the will to stop them. Somewhere in his miserable delirium he's acutely aware of screwing his fists up in frustration, and then clutching tightly at the back of Christian's shirt, as if making sure he doesn't punch himself in the gut.

He feels the other man tighten his grip even further, and one of his hands brings Syed's head to rest on his chest, tucked tight under his chin. He gently pulls his fingers through his long hair, and Syed feels rather than hears the comforting 'shush'ing noises he is making into it. He also feels the slow shaking of Christian's head, and he shakes and sobs into his shirt with guttural moans and racking, choking coughs as his minds flicks to Amira, and Bushra, and his mother...

After what was in reality almost 10 minutes he has finally calmed down enough to breathe, but is not yet able to form a sentence. There isn't any need anyway; what would he say?

Christian pulls back and holds him by his shoulders, Syed still clutching desperately at his back. He raises the hand that stroked his hair and tickles gently at the tears on his cheeks, and Syed's eyes flutter closed at the contact. He moves his fingers to the eyelids, red raw from extensive sobbing. He opens them again and he lays his large palm along one cheek. Syed looks up at him with fear and Christian looks back with tenderness and warmth.

His expression hardens somewhat and he briefly but frantically shakes his head, staring deep into the shorter man's eyes. His grip on the terrified face before him is almost painful, and he loosens it, but it's clear he yearns for Syed to know what he thinks, and to share that train of thought – it would relieve, if only temporarily, so much of their pain.

"No," he says, and his voice breaks slightly, dead from under-use. He steadies it before continuing. "No, it is not at all."

Syed stares back desperately, almost willing himself to believe, but willing himself to run and erase his whole consciousness, his whole being as soon as humanly possible, at the same time.

Christian continues to stare right back, his face set and his eyes burning and dancing with the fire of conviction, but his lips curve into a tiny soft smile as they shape the word he knows will shock Syed.

"Halaal."

Syed's eyes widen further, and for a moment his face registers nothing but confusion. Then the overwhelming fact that Christian knows exactly what he's saying takes him over, and he collapses into the English man's embrace. He grips him as he buries his face into the crevice of his neck, trying not to cry again, knowing full well that this doesn't change a lot, that Christian isn't correct really at all, and that nothing is really that much better.

But Christian understands, and Christian wants him, and Christian went to all that effort just to convince Syed that what both of them feel is far from haraam.

And Syed thinks of Christians single word, he's sceptical as to how true it is, and then reprimands himself for even considering going against the belief he's held for all his life. However, he simply can't deny that it sounds beautiful when applied to embrace he's currently encapsulated in, and the feeling swirling through him as Christian's lips meet his forehead and his in return find Christians jaw line. Halaal does sound so much better than haraam, in Arabic or in English; it just makes it even more special that Christian bothered to learn it in the language of the Qur'an.

Right.

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