Halfway to Anywhere
A/N: This is my first foray into the world of Chryed fic, and it's super-intimidating writing about established characters that people already know and love, so I hope everyone likes my interpretation. I wanted to have a play around with how they first got together so I wrote this. Imagine if Amira was never on the scene and Syed had resisted his feelings for seven long months...
The story is from Syed's POV. I'm not sure if I want to have a go at writing Christian's POV yet, but I might explore that somewhere down the line.
I have changed some details of them and their histories as you will see throughout, so read it with an open mind, but a lot of the fic is kept true to the on-screen story – for example, both Syed and Christian live in Walford and work at the Masala Queen together.
The title of this fic is inspired by the song Anywhere by Evanescence, a song which suits Chryed perfectly.
This first chapter sets up some of the important details for the story and gives you a glimpse into Syed's head before we get into the action, so I'm sorry if it seems a bit dull, but please stick with it, it gets better! (I think...)
Reviews are most welcome, good or critical!
Special thanks go to Jenn and whoyouarexo, who were kind enough to give me their feedback on the story and the confidence to post it, and to Gem for being my beta!
January 2010
"I need a holiday", Mum announced out of the blue, shattering the comfortable silence that had previously occupied the living room.
She was sat at the table, her back to me and Tamwar, browsing on the laptop. I looked at Tam, sat next to me on the sofa reading a book, and we both rolled our eyes, keeping quiet. I'd only been back at home properly for a few months, but I'd heard this declaration from Mum numerous times already, said in times of stress but with no action behind it.
I leaned over to whisper to Tam. "When was the last time you actually went on holiday?"
"We went to Newquay a couple of summers ago", he responded. "Mum moaned about the weather, the smell, the people, the cost of everything, the cleanliness of the hotel, you name it. We were meant to stay there for 10 days but came home after a week. Worst holiday ever."
"What are you two muttering about?" Mum barked from across the room. "I'm serious! I've just found a log cabin in Scotland with cheap last-minute rates for February, it sleeps 10. I wonder if the Beales would like to join us. They raved about how beautiful Scotland was when they went."
"Er, Mum, aren't you kind of forgetting something?" I said teasingly, half-laughing at her. "Like, the business that you and the Beales jointly own? We can't all go on holiday together, who would look after Masala Queen?"
Mum tutted. "Oh, February's always a quiet month in the catering industry Syed. After the hectic run-up to Christmas and New Year the business dies a death until about March-time. Had you not already noticed? We have enough staff to look after Masala Queen, and Ian's businesses all tick over smoothly without his presence these days. It's only for four nights anyway, Monday to Friday."
"Who would go on holiday from a Monday to a Friday?" Tamwar piped up, looking unimpressed.
"People looking for cheap getaways, that's who!" Mum retorted sharply. "When you have a family of your own then you'll have to learn to look after your money Tamwar, it doesn't look after itself! Plus this place is a bargain for what it offers; it looks surprisingly modern and spacious from the pictures."
"Mum, are you sure you want to go on holiday with the Beales?" I asked incredulously.
"What's wrong with the Beales?" Mum snapped. "Jane is a lovely woman. Bobby, Peter and Lucy are wonderful children." I raised a doubtful eyebrow at that but she continued: "And Ian... eh, well, Ian's just Ian isn't he? Tamwar come here and look at the pictures."
Tam sighed and reluctantly pulled himself up off the sofa. "So who are these 10 people going to be then?"
"Well, I was thinking us four, Jane and Ian, Lucy and Peter, Bobby and Christian. Shabnam sounded very busy last time I spoke to her so I doubt she'll be able to make it; she said the earliest she can visit is April. But that's 10 exactly, see, how perfect! There are four double bedrooms and two singles..."
At the mention of Christian's name, Mum's voice had faded into nothing more than distant background noise. My heart had starting thumping involuntarily, and without intending to I drifted into a daydream.
The effect Christian Clarke had on me was ridiculous. Ever since I first laid eyes on him, back in May last year, even if he wasn't in my presence just the mere thought or mention of him made my heart flip-flop in my chest. There were no signs of this response disappearing either. In fact, the more I tried to control it, the stronger it became.
Ever since that first meeting, the moment our eyes first met, the handshake, the introduction, my weak joke... I'd never been taken over so powerfully by my own feelings. The last seven months had been an emotional and mental turmoil for me. Falling in love for the first time was meant to be a joyous, exciting experience, but falling in love with a man, a man I worked with? It was possibly the worst thing to have ever happened to me. It went against everything I'd been taught, everything I believed in as a devout Muslim man. It was haraam – strictly forbidden.
Day after day I prayed for Allah's help to erase my feelings, to make life more manageable, to assist me in meeting a nice Muslim girl who'd distract me from Christian. But nothing changed, it never became any easier.
Christian had no idea, or at least I thought he didn't. I exhausted myself day in day out trying to hide it, constantly wearing my cleverly designed mask of indifference and casualness.
However there were times when I wondered how Christian could possibly still be ignorant to my feelings. There were days where I was just too emotionally exhausted to pretend, and the mask would slip, leaving me in danger of being caught out. There were certain moments where it felt as if my true feelings may as well be written all over my forehead in thick black marker pen, or displayed in a flashing neon sign above my head.
It was the moments where he brushed against me without realising and I had to hold my breath to keep myself from involuntarily gasping.
It was the moments where he flashed his cheeky grin at me, making my heart melt inside.
It was the moments at work where Mum would start off on one of her rants and he would throw me playful sideways glances, making my legs quake beneath me.
It was the moments where something trivial amused him and he'd chuckle, the timbre of it arousing salacious desires in me.
There were even whole days where I couldn't look him properly in the eye because I knew that the look of lust in my eyes would have betrayed me in an instant.
Even in an alternate universe, where my faith and beliefs didn't stand in my way, I knew that he'd never be interested in me. Why would he? We were polar opposites. He was toned and muscular, I was lean, a pure weed in direct comparison. He was cheeky and charming. I was shy and awkward, around him anyway. He was quick-witted and jovial. I had my moments, but when I was anywhere near him I clammed up.
I knew he thought I was a bore – and a straight bore at that!
He wasn't shy in talking about his love of the gay scene, boasting of a new man every Saturday night. I knew this fact because every Monday morning at work I had to stand and listen to the tales of his weekend, trying to conceal the look of jealousy and betrayal on my face. I knew how utterly stupid it was of me to even feel that way. Why was I jealous? I certainly had no reason to feel betrayed. Christian was not mine. He never had been, and never would be. There was not a chance on this earth that he felt anything for me.
I supposed I should have been grateful for that fact - it made resisting him far easier when I knew he was never going to make a move on me. But unrequited love was humiliating, however I dressed it up, and the self-loathing I put myself through as a result of my feelings was constant and painful.
There was a point, around November last year, where I felt as though it was all becoming too much for me to handle. I had seriously considered moving away, finding a new job, getting far away from the source of my turmoil.
Unfortunately Christian was like a drug, the strangest, most powerful drug known to man. However awful I felt around him as I tried to conceal my feelings, and however difficult and heart-wrenching the whole thing was, the thought of not seeing him made a part of me die inside. It was a part that had only awakened when I first laid eyes on him, and a part that I couldn't physically imagine living without now.
So I'd inadvertently managed to put a positive spin on my own heartache and misery. However difficult the situation may have seemed, it would have been even more difficult were I to cut Christian out of my life now. So every day I chose to suffer, safe in the knowledge that I was making the best of a bad situation.
That was how my life had been for the past seven long months, and how it would have to be until the day where my prayers to Allah were finally answered, and he reversed my homosexual desires. I had faith that this would happen. Everyone had to endure tests in their life, and this was mine. I would eventually meet the woman of my dreams and start a family of my own, pleasing my dear mother, who grew ever wearier the longer I remained single.
"... massive kitchen, gorgeous lounge area, and look at the views! Pass me the phone and I'll call Jane." Mum's voice babbling away to Tamwar grew louder as it filtered back into my consciousness and I realised I had done it yet again. I had allowed thoughts of Christian Clarke to take over my head. I mentally kicked myself. Today was certainly one of my weaker days.
"Syed?" Mum was calling me over to the laptop now. I sighed and stood up, pushing all thoughts of Christian to the back of my mind. For now anyway...