Walking slowly into the flat, he stopped by the pillar and turned to face me. I hung back by the door, suddenly, inexplicably awkward. The hard part was over. I had done it; I had left; I had walked out on my family home with nothing more than the clothes on my back in the sure and certain knowledge that it was the right thing to do. So why was I standing here, nervous as a teenager on his first date?

The memory hit me of the first time I had stood here in this flat, awkward and nervous; unable to resist his whispered plea to come back to mine but not sure what to do or what to say once I got there. There had been a voice in my head - a voice that sounded worryingly like my mother - screaming at me to leave before it was too late. But then he had moved in close, the scent and the shape and the sheer presence of him filling my senses; and desire quickly took over, my body providing the instructions my brain had failed to do. All other thoughts banished until the morning when higher brain functions kicked back in and the guilt flooded back with it.

But there was too much baggage now. Too many words said that couldn't be unsaid, deeds that couldn't be undone. Maybe desire, maybe even love wasn't enough to wipe out those bad memories. The rush of euphoria that had filled me at let's go home, the feel of his arm around my neck, pulling me close, was fading now. Fear was creeping in in its place. I hadn't exactly given him time to think. Maybe he had changed his mind.

Christian ran his hand over the back of his neck in a familiar gesture and gave me a smile. "Look, I need a shower after my run. Why don't you stick the kettle on and make us a cup of tea -" he gestured towards the kitchen as though I hadn't made a thousand cups of tea in this flat before "- and then we can talk."

"Talk?" I repeated stupidly.

His smile widened and he took a step towards me. "I think we need to talk, don't you?"

We did. God, yes, we did. Part of me wanted to start talking and never stop, telling him about every little thing that had happened to me in the last three months, the tiniest minutiae of every day we had spent apart, but I knew I never would. He wouldn't care about most of it; and the bits he would care about I couldn't share with him. Couldn't relive that pain all over again, couldn't make him hear my despair that I could never be the man my parents wanted me to be. Even if I could find the words, he would never understand.

But right now, standing here in this place where the good memories far outnumbered the bad ones, talking was the last thing on my mind. I couldn't think of anything to say that didn't make me sound like a petulant child asking where my kiss was - or more accurately, wondering why I wasn't being shoved up against the nearest wall and my clothes ripped off.

I settled for taking a few more steps into the flat, narrowing that gap between us. "We should talk. But Christian..." Was I imagining it, or did his breath catch as I said his name? "...it's been three months."

I didn't need to clarify what I meant, I could see it in his face, hear it in his halted breath. But he still stayed where he was, keeping that distance.

"Look, Sy..." he said after a brief pause, and I couldn't help smiling at the sound of my name again, said as only he said it. "I don't want to rush you into anything."

I dared another step forward. "It's taken us a year to get here. How is that rushing?"

Christian sighed. "You're just done this...amazing thing," he said, raising his head to meet my eyes. "A huge thing. I just think you might need time to breathe a bit."

"I don't need-" I began, but he cut me off, the words rushing out of him.

"I can't do it again, Sy." Those brilliant eyes blazed into me and I could see the hurt and the fear in them. "It nearly killed me last time. I can't wake up tomorrow morning to find you gone, changed your mind, run back home to Mum and Dad. Not again."

I couldn't stop myself flinching at the tone even if I knew where it came from. He was protecting himself just as I had so many times. He winched, seeing my reaction, closing his eyes briefly as guilt flashed across his face. He raised a hand as if to touch me; then let it drop back down by his side, his head dropping down to follow it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

I swallowed, and while still keeping the distance between us, I reached out to run my fingers down his forearm and take his hand; completing the gesture he was unable to make. He let me take it, entwining our fingers together. The electric shock always present at his touch surged through me again; and somehow I suspected I wasn't alone, even though Christian didn't raise his head to meet my eyes. "Yes, you did. And you're right. I wouldn't do that to you again - though I don't think Mum and Dad would have me back after that public display anyway. Not to mention walking out on Bushra and all the Aunties." He let out a small chuckle and I could see his shoulders relax a bit, but he continued to stare at the floor.

I couldn't think how to put into words what had changed, why I was different; I didn't really understand it myself. I thought I had explained myself well enough out in the market, but I couldn't blame him for being wary. I took a deep breath and continued. "I wish...I could go back. Change things. I can't bear to think of you hurting like that."

Finally, he looked up and gave me a wry smile. "Yeah, well, I did some stuff I wish I could take back too."

I took those final steps forward, closing the gap between us to the thinnest breath of air. He didn't come to meet me but he didn't flinch away either, holding himself still as we looked at each other. "Clean slate?" I asked and his smile softened. My skin was humming at his unbearably close presence and it would have been so easy to give in and kiss those tempting lips. But I needed him to hear it first; needed to be sure that he understood it was different this time. "I meant it, I promise. I'll still be here tomorrow and for-" I stopped myself from saying forever, not wanting to presume. He looked at me with a question in his eyes. "For as long as you want me here. This is it. I'm not going anywhere."

"You promise?" he breathed.

I nodded. "I love you."

And as if the words were the signal he'd been waiting for, that last breath of air between us vanished as his lips met mine, his free hand reaching up to entangle itself in my hair, the other, released from my grip, snaking round my waist. Hot, hungry mouths plundered each other as months-worth of pent-up lust flooded through me, sending my limbs weak and shaky. I gripped the back of Christian's vest to steady myself as the sheer force of him pushed me backwards. Our bodies hit the wall as one.

Unfortunately, we had forgotten about the entry phone on that wall and pain throbbed through my shoulder as I hit it, sending the bloody thing clattering to the floor.

"Ow!"

Christian pulled back, breathing heavily, and looked at me with concern. "Are you okay? Did I hurt-" He must have realised what had happened as amusement flashed across his eyes and a chuckle rose from deep within his throat. "Oops. Sorry, babe." He ran both hands through my hair and down my face in a well-remembered gesture, and a shiver passed through me as he brought my face forward and placed a soft, closed-mouth kiss on my lips. "Want me to kiss it better?" he murmured, his mouth mere centimetres from mine.

I should have kept the same light, teasing tone, thought of a witty flirtatious reply, but it was hard to think over the blood pounding in my ears. Fierce joy, relief and - yes - love were bubbling out of me and I couldn't control the grin on my face. All I could do was whisper, "Yes please."

For a brief moment he looked surprised; then serious as he gently rubbed a thumb across my lips. The flat was silent and still, the only sound our ragged breathing, the only movement our heaving chests as we looked at each other. Then his face lit up as he cracked an ear-splitting grin the mirror of my own. He twisted his fingers through my hair and pulled me into him for a bruising kiss.

We pulled apart after too short a time, our foreheads resting together as he whispered, "I love you."

Then I got my wish as I was promptly shoved up against the wall - not the nearest wall, but the nearest free of sharp objects - and yes, my clothes were ripped off. Shame, was my last thought before all conscious thoughts were thoroughly banished. I rather liked that shirt.

Author's Note: First chapter of an expected six covering the whole weekend after the reunion; updates should be fairly quick. Reviews are, of course, very much appreciated!