Prologue

"Now your stuff is over there and the rest is in the wardrobe."

Syed stills, taking in the carelessness of the tone and the sight of Christian moving to walk out the door.

"That's it then?" he hears himself say, the flush of anger still insignificant enough to come out as a quiver. "You've got your stuff, you've left mine. That's it?"

"What do you want me to say Syed?"

"I want you to say you care, that this matters. That this matters to you like it matters to me. This is us, our home - well it was until you decided to move out of it. It's my home. We have a fight, I come back and you tell me the boxes are mine and my clothes are in the wardrobe? You speak like I'm no one, like none of this even matters to you, like you can just separate our things and it's as simple as that."

Christian sighs, shaking his head quickly.

"I haven't got time to get into this Syed."

"You haven't got time?"

Syed feels his voice rising now, the panic and the pain a physical lump in his shaking throat.

"I dedicated two years of my life to this, it's everything to me. I put it above everything, we both did, gave up everything, and you say you haven't got time for it anymore? The social worker may be coming at four but I thought maybe you'd want to give your fiancé ten minutes. I hoped."

"I haven't got time for it because it's pointless. You're never going to want a child if it hasn't got a mother. I know I'm gay and I'm not filled with self-loathing for it. Gays aren't capable of raising kids, right? Shouldn't let the perverts near them. I got it."

"How can you even say that, how can you use that word against me like you know my own parents have and make out I think it. That what I'm feeling is as simple as that."

"I haven't got a clue what you think Syed, it seems to change daily."

"Except it doesn't actually, it's been pretty consistently unsure if you bothered to listen, if you didn't just hear what you wanted to and ignore the rest."

He breathes, noticing the tightness in his chest means his lungs need reminding. Christian remains standing at the door, though Syed takes some comfort from the fact he hasn't walked through it, that the box of abandonment he is holding is now at least partly resting on the table that hasn't yet been moved.

"I should have been clearer, I should have spoken more," he tells him. "It's not like I consciously kept things from you or lied though. I just didn't know...I don't always know. I'm not always good at this and I'm sorry. I understand why you were so upset, as much as a surprise as it came I know how much you want this. I would never ever want you to not have something that you wanted, let alone be the person keeping that from you. All I want is for you to be happy. Why do you think I was so scared to talk about it?"

"So this has all been you keeping the peace?"

"Partly, yes. I mean it's not like I knew how I felt the whole time, knew anything to properly keep from you. Maybe I don't even know it now, I might just need some time. I don't know. But yeah, trying to keep things going, trying to be what you wanted, to protect this, that was there too. Not wanting to damage this, this thing which is everything to me. Maybe that's childish or weak or whatever else, it probably is. Keep calm and carry on, right? Clearly you're right, I haven't exactly come that far."

"I never asked that of you Syed."

"Except you sort of did. You do every time you do something without consulting me, every time you take positivity and crush me with it because there's no room left for me to think. Every time you sulk when I express something you don't want to hear. It's not just you, I'm just as much to blame. I'm clearly doing something that would make you act like this, I don't know what that is. All I know is I don't want to hurt you. Hurting the people I love most in the world is the last thing I would ever want to do. For me anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Syed considers it briefly, unfamiliar with the concept of holding others to account. He hadn't planned to. His mouth seems to be sensing something coming, like this is final, and the words find themselves coming out.

"You weren't the only one who got hurt yesterday you know. The things you say to me sometimes...I don't understand them. I know people lash out when they're hurt – I've lived with it for almost twenty years, I've definitely done it myself. I can't get my head around saying those things though, now we're so settled, that they always seem to be your first response to me saying anything that you might not like. I mean maybe I deserve them, I don't know. I wish sometimes you could just listen, that your first impulse isn't to attack me, or that you'd at least care that you do. I probably deserve it, I don't know. It just hurts, it hurts when you say things, when others do..."

"I assume as she just left you're talking about Roxy. What do you want me to do, put her on a leash. She's my best friend, a good one. She can say what she likes."

"And she really does."

"As opposed to the people around you, you mean? Your mother, the definition of demure and tolerant."

"You say that like I don't know, like I enjoy it. I hate it, I hate every moment where anyone I love hurts the man I love. My mum has said awful things to you. And I stand up for you, every single time, without hesitation. I know that you give as good as you get, say whatever makes you feel good, often to me no matter how it hurts, and I know defending you damages my relationship with mum a little more every time, but I do it. From the very first time I did it, without breath. Because I love you and I can't bear to hear bad things said about you or to know they're said to you. I can't bear to think of you getting hurt. The thing is, I don't know if I can say you feel the same."

Christian tuts, ignoring the painful things, those parts that need reflection. He isn't in the mood to look at himself today and he knows he hasn't been for a good twenty years. He decides to latch onto the easy bit again, the bit that can be turned back around on the one that he loves. He decides and it's barely a decision, he's barely aware that it's done.

"So we're fighting about Roxy? That I don't pick you constantly over her, that I'm not as good at defending your honour as you are, that it?"

"You know it isn't that. It's all these little things, the big things, all mounting up and I don't know what to do about it. It's about..."

Syed hesitates, his tongue heavy with words that have almost been too painful to have been permitted to be thoughts. He puts his eyes to the floor and says them quietly, unable to do anymore.

"...losing you. I feel like I've started to lose you, the real you. You used to care when I was upset, that I was hurt. You cared how I felt. It was never perfect, we'd fight and I was usually as good at talking as you were listening, but I never doubted you cared. Not for a second. Even in the worst darkest moments I never doubted that. It's different now."

"I don't love you anymore, is that it? How you can even think that I have no fucking idea."

Christian's voice is rising and Syed's gaze shifts back up with it.

"I've messed up enough over the years to know love isn't quite that simple...it's how you act, how you make someone feel."

Syed stills again, needing to take the pain of it as he stares at frosted green eyes. It comes in almost a whisper;

"You were my person. The one that knew me, loved me, like no one else ever did. Not someone who would never hurt me, neither of us managed that, but you were the one who tried not to, who cared when you did. Whatever we did, we figured it out together. We did, because we wanted to. When did you stop being my person? I can't even bear to think about that."

"Probably around the time I realised that you were still putting everything else ahead of me. Your family, your bullshit beliefs, your fear...anything else other than what's best for us, you've put first."

"Your version of putting other things first Christian is giving them any consideration at all, of caring about anything other than this, of having my own feelings that may actually be different to yours."

"It's not like I don't know about the other things Syed, like they're not imbedded into my skull. We've been dealing with them long enough after all. It's about you Syed. It is always about you."

"It hasn't been about me for a very long time Christian. This isn't a relationship. It's a one man show with someone along for the ride to keep you warm at night. You say we're a team but it only seems to work for you if you're the boss and I'm taking the orders. That isn't a team."

"Or one you want to be a part of, you mean?"

"I didn't say that, I would never say that. I'm not the one saying you're not enough, dividing our things."

"It's utter shit anyway. I have never given you orders."

"Orders don't have to be direct to be orders - they're not all 'have a child with me now or go'. They can be a constant pressure, a refusal to listen, to go at a pace you both want to. I feel like I'm drowning here, I feel like I'm drowning. It's been months and it keeps getting worse. It's like I'm drowning."

Syed shakes, reaching a hand out for the wall as some sort of stability.

"I love you. I love you with every part of me but I don't know what to do anymore. I've been working on this, trying to figure out what's going wrong, trying to fix it. Relationships are work, aren't they, they're about compromise and working through the bad bits. Except it's turning into a full time job. The thing is I would do, dedicate every minute to this, everything I have and more...if I thought you would do the same. If I thought you had been doing, that this really mattered to you anymore. You fought for me, you wanted to marry me...now it's like that means nothing."

"I'm allowed to have other things that matter. You should know that more than anyone."

"It isn't the same as when that thing you want destroys everything, as when you treat the one you love badly because of it, when you prioritise it above everything. I know the difference Christian, I've lived it, I've done it. You had to deal with it for long enough, I would have thought you could tell the difference too. When I left them for you – and I did if you've forgotten, only a year ago – I made a promise to let you be, to treat you, exactly as you are...the most important thing in my entire world. People can have other things, they should do...but not like this. Not if you want them, if at the end of it all, they are the centre of you, that thing you can't imagine living without. I was that for you. I was. I can't have dreamt it."

Christian finds himself silenced, suddenly finding it difficult to tell himself this is the right thing, remembering who it is that stands in front of him looking at him like that. Suddenly it is painful and he can't form any words at the sight of those eyes.

Syed gains nothing from the continual silence and his heart falls flat as he murmurs;

"Maybe we should take a break, some time out or something."

"Some time out?"

"Just some space. Figure out what we're doing. It's not like you can say you're happy right now. I thought I could make you happy, I thought I was, but I'm clearly not. I don't know what to do...maybe a break is all there is."

Christian nods, voice flat.

"Why just stop there?"

"What?"

"You want to go, you go."

"I didn't say that."

Syed watches as Christian opens the door.

"Yeah well I did. According to you there really isn't anything to stay around for anyway."