Silhouettes

by Chryedfan19

Syed's thoughts one night at the Arghee Bhajee.

All too often lately EE don't let us into Syed's thoughts enough and I wanted to explore how he might have been feeling one particular night at the Arghee Bhajee. Inspired by Syed and this song. Thankyou to those who read it for me and reassured me and massive thanks and lots of love to Al.x

Took a walk and passed your house
Late last night
All the shades were pulled and drawn
Way down tight
From within, a dim light cast
Two silhouettes on the shade
Oh, what a lovely couple they made

Put his arms around your waist
Held you tight
Kisses I could almost taste
In the night
Wondered why I'm not the guy
Whose silhouette's on the shade
I couldn't hide the tears in my eyes

(Bob Crewe)

Silhouettes (all of our days, two silhouettes on the shade)

Sad amber eyes stared dejectedly across at the elaborately patterned cushions decorating the sofa in the Argee Bhajee's now empty, waiting area. The stand-in manager, Syed Masood, was trying to picture how they should be arranged but it was a memory test he was failing.

It wasn't that the decor particularly interested him, it didn't, but his sister- in- law Afia liked them a certain way and messily strewn following the nights heavy use wasn't it.

With nobody free to do moped deliveries, there'd been a lot of extra drop-in takeaway traffic tonight, people hanging around, untidying the sofa, messing with the cushions. The only thing Syed was sure of was that they weren't how they were supposed to be.

The restaurant had been busy all evening too and this was his first real chance to slow down. Normally he'd welcome that, but not tonight, tonight it just gave him time to think and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

'I love you..I love you...why would I want to look at anyone else ?"

Wiping at a persistently disobedient lock of hair, he tried to take his mind away from where it really wanted to go...to Christian.

He switched his attention from the cushions, they clearly weren't doing it. Christian liked the sofa cushions a certain way too. Sometimes when Syed had been tidying their flat he'd innocently replace them the wrong way but the next time he looked, back they'd be, the right way. It had always made him smile.

He scanned the room and his attention fell onto something else. Was it too early to take the Christmas decorations down? He supposed he should ask Afia first, she'd put them up after all. Christian had put some up in their flat last year. Syed had come home before he'd finished and tried to help him, but they'd ended up having a tinsel fight instead. That guy tonight didn't look like the kind of guy who would enjoy a tinsel fight. Not to Syed anyway. Maybe he should text Christian, 'Do you fancy a tinsel fight in the Argee Bhajee?' Would that bring him back?

Nothing would keep his thoughts from the flat across the square. If Yusef had come back from the dead and walked through the door demanding chicken jalfrezi to go, it wouldn't have made a difference. Syed's thoughts would still be over there...in his flat...what used to be their flat. What should still be their flat.

It was getting late now and there was just one more table to finish. A group of six youngish guys. They'd been acting up a bit all night, just showing off. Prats, Christian would call them and he'd probably offer to deal with them too and Syed would tell him he could handle it. Too much lager, followed by...'I know let's have a really hot curry.' Nothing Syed hadn't dealt with before. He'd been giving them a little leeway anyway since he was in no particular hurry to get home.

He considered calling Ish to ask if he could stay the night rather than have to spend the night next door to them, but it was too late to call now and anyway he wanted to see Yasmin in the morning, he'd hardly seen her all day. He could never get enough of being with her. Amira had been right, she did have her daddies eyes and she'd captured his heart the very first time she'd looked at him.

Thoughts of his little girl lifted his spirits enough to bring the faintest of smiles just as the cook, Rajeev emerged from the kitchen with a small plate of samosas. It had become a welcome habit over the last few nights when Syed had stayed late at the hospital before coming in here. Rajeev took the smile as thanks for his food,

"No problem boss...let me know if you'd like some more. "

Syed wished he'd thought to tell him he wasn't hungry tonight.

"Thanks Rajeev, you're a life saver they smell good." It was true they did.

When Rajeev had gone back to the kitchen he picked at them not wanting to appear ungrateful, but even though he hadn't eaten since lunchtime he couldn't summon up any appetite. Now that Syed had actually stopped long enough to notice, his leg was beginning to ache too. It didn't usually trouble him too much but tonight it did. Early morning starts and late nights were taking a toll, not to mention sleeping on the sofa and getting bounced on by a joyous Kamil first thing every morning! Kamil assumed his big brother was only there to play with him after all and it made the little boy's morning to have such a captive audience to share his favourite cartoons with.

Syed hoped the stragglers would hurry up now though. But then tonight was the night for baiting the waiters it seemed, but wasn't that where he'd come in? He would remain calm though and more courteous than they deserved, just like earlier, when Christian had called him back to fetch his bill.

Noisy laughter made him look up, this lot were certainly full of something, high spirits anyway.

Were they being racist? If putting on silly accents, nothing like his own, to say, 'Can we have some curry please Mr Bhajee?' was, then they were...they certainly weren't being original. But he wasn't bothered by them enough to even glare. When they'd ordered some extra naans earlier and he'd taken them over, they'd been talking about girls. The disrespect in the way they talked had mildly shocked him. Glancing at them Syed had wondered if it was all hot air anyway.

"S'cuse me."... pause to make sure he turned around and got the full effect..." can I get the bill?"

That was all he'd said to him. His lover ...ex lover... treating him like the waiter he was tonight. Syed's stomach had been in knots when he'd turned around and the self satisfied look plastered across Christian's face had shown Syed exactly how much he was enjoying whatever this was. After he'd heard Christian invite the guy back to the flat, clearly so that Syed heard him and leaving no doubt as to why, Syed had steeled himself, determined not to give him whatever reaction it was he was hoping for. But it wasn't that easy. What he didn't get though was why? Game playing wasn't something he did, if that's what it was. Had Christian even known he'd be working? How did he know he'd walk in? So if it was just chance maybe it hadn't been for his benefit at all. He had just been an added bonus. A happy accident?

'There's no such thing as accidents.'

As Syed wiped the bar down he worked himself up reliving when his night had taken a turn for the worse, mimicking in his head; 'Can I get the bill?' and... 'This would be a lot more fun if we took it back to mine.'

He could almost hear Christian belting out Gloria Gaynor from the shower... 'Look at me! See I don't need you any more! I've got all my love to give and just look at me giving it! ' Except shouldn't it be the other way around? He was the one who said goodbye! So is that what Syed should be doing? Parading some new guy around in front of him?

'Except I don't want to,' Syed thought sadly. 'I never would.'

'He doesn't need to show me he can pull. Doesn't he think I know that already? Who wouldn't want him?'

Re-cleaning bits he'd already cleaned Syed mulled it all over again.

'He knows I want him back! Has he forgotten it's him who doesn't want me anymore?...me and my complicated life!'

He rinsed the cloth out, wrung it hard and threw it under the bar, before turning his attentions to the clean glasses in the tray on the floor. Rajeev must have brought them through but he hadn't noticed.

They'd left an hour or so ago, Christian and the bloke, laughing and joking. Syed hated that fake laughter...or maybe he thought dejectedly, he'd only hoped that it was fake. It must have been a good night before he'd turned up, at least Jane had looked embarrassed though as she'd cast a sympathetic glance his way, just as they went out of the door...back to the flat...to carry on at Christian's place. Syed had turned away and missed Christian's look across at him just before he left.

Glasses neatly, if a little violently for breakables, stacked away, tray returned to the kitchen, Syed began checking the drinks supplies. He glanced across every now and then to see if the stragglers looked like being ready for their bill. They didn't.

The samosas had gone cold too.

Sighing heavily, he moved on to the till and began putting the notes neatly so that all the heads were facing the same way. Tam preferred it that way, he wouldn't see them but even so, it mattered. The takings weren't bad and he hoped Tamwar would be pleased about that when he told him tomorrow. He knew the way his brother was feeling though, he probably wouldn't care.

Poor Tambo had been really down tonight, the worst he'd seen him. Without Zainab there he hadn't held back. Syed knew Tam hated her fussing and he'd tried to tell her that as tactfully as he could, she'd be even worse if she'd seen him like he was tonight, so Tam hid it more with her. But with his brother he could open up and Syed was pleased that he would do that, he needed to. Bottling things up never worked, but it was a hard habit to break.

Shuffling chairs across the room alerted Syed that the guys were getting ready to move.

At last they were going...but not before taking ages in the toilets which Syed knew meant they'd need checking again . After a little more 'pratting' about and then eventually settling up, they began to make their drunken way out... shaking him by the hand as they did,

'Great curry mate'. He hoped they'd washed their hands.

As he cleared the table and put the 43p tip they'd left into the charity box, the toilets beckoned. Hitting the lager and over indulging like that usually only ended up one way. Or two if you were being technical.

If only he hadn't snapped at the new waiter earlier on. It had been just after Christian had left. The poor guy was only trying to impress too...carrying one too many plates. He'd looked really upset as well and how was he to know it wasn't him his prick of a boss was really upset with? That being polite to customers when all he wanted to do was scream had to come out somehow? So when the majority of the customers had gone Syed had let him leave early, out of guilt mainly. Instant Karma for losing his temper and now he got to do the loos.

He wondered if Christian had considered shagging his new conquest in the Arghee Bhajee toilets just to really rub his nose in it. Would he find; 'Christian wos 'ere and guess wot...it wasn't with you.' graffiti scribbled on a toilet door? That thought perfectly suited his mood as he took a deep breath and pushed the door open, hoping that any mess was due to missed aim rather than anything even more unpleasant.

He realised he'd let his sour mood prejudge them though...they'd been idiots but at least it didn't look like filthy idiots. Or not too filthy...at least the mess was the liquid kind and most importantly... no lumps.

'Things must be looking up.' Syed thought as he filled a bucket with disinfectant and hot water and grabbed a mop ... 'Yes Syed because someone else's piss beats vomit every time doesn't it ? Tambo how do you do it?'

That did it, the thought of Tamwar lying alone right now in his hospital bed, with everything his little brother was coping with, what had he to complain about really? Well apart from being more knowledgeable than he ever wanted to be about the Incredible Book Of Facts.

He silently admonished himself for letting self pity get to him. He was yo-yo-ing between anger at Christian and anger at himself. And even sometimes anger at Amira too, although he resisted that. That was more complicated and always coloured by guilt. But there was poor Afia as well...her husband was hurting, shutting her out and her father had just died horrifically in front of her. Syed had always hated the man but Yusef had been her father. So really, what had he to feel sorry for himself about? He wiped the mop in rhythm with his thoughts, speeding up or slowing down depending on exactly which part he was at, leaving the floor ridiculously clean. His mum would be proud.

Job done, Syed went back to finish the cashing up after quickly checking in with Rajeev again. The cook was still busy getting the prep done for tomorrow, his rhythmic chopping of knife against board so familiar to Syed.

"Before I know it, I'm a walking chutney."

Even now that could make him smile. His thoughts were too easily back with him. To the flat. They never went far away though. He knew he'd have to walk past there. What was he even hoping? Lights on? or lights off?

Off...Off! at least then he could pretend they were sleeping. But how? Arms wrapped around each other like they used to do? One resting their head on the others chest, a perfect fit, as one. Gentle breathing...soft snoring from his lover.. even in sleep their hands exploring, one always searching for the other. Touching ...vital.

He had to stop this.

Desperate to find an outlet for his hurt he took it out on the till, wrestling with it impatiently to release the cash tray when all it actually needed was a little pressure in the right places. When he accidentally found them it jerked loose catching his hand painfully. With superhuman control he somehow stopped himself from hurling it across the restaurant and crashing it through the windows, as if that would somehow help him. Smash his own dark images and take all this away. Instead he slammed it down beside him. Not nearly as satisfying. His hand hurt and he sucked at the bruise now forming on the side of his palm.

'I was a nurse in a previous life...'

If he could just stop thinking about him!... them... 'Stop! Stop it!' No! It won't be like that...Christian will be as far away from him as the bed will allow him to be! That guy will be gone in the morning!' Like he told Syed it always used to be ...before he met him.

The thought of this stranger in his place...with Christian, anywhere would kill him but in their bed.. that hurt even more.

Maybe, he thought triumphantly, the guy would be kicked out onto the uncomfortable sofa by now, the same sofa Syed had slept on all those nights when Jane and Amira had lived there with him. It only gave him a moments satisfaction... But this guy, this guy, he thought resentfully, was too big for that sofa wasn't he? Or maybe he'd gone already? His heart lifted a little at that, if it had to be then at least let it be that. At least then he'd know it had meant nothing whatever Christian tried to pretend. Even better, maybe he'd thrown him out!

'Go on Sy get out! Just get out!'

Hurt turned back to anger.

'You know what! You never even came out of the closet did you? You just came out and you waved your little fingers at the world.'

Ignoring the pain in his hand he began shoving coins into the silly little bags provided. Had he said that or her? At times they'd merged into one. It was her he remembered, in his face and screaming but he'd let her. But what did they know? What did they know about having your whole faith against you? Living openly as he had with Christian... a muslim...they thought that wasn't coming out of the closet? He shook his head almost laughing. His resentment growing at the plain ingnorance and injustice. 'But it wasn't me degaying our flat!' Syed knew that wasn't fair even as he thought it, he had been trying to help. But nobody, not even Christian really understood the private hell he'd gone through to come out. If he did he'd never have let her say that would he?

'Why should I give up my dreams just to stay in this relationship?'

Snatches of conversations, old hurts, played over in his mind. With his concentration shot, he ended up being too rough with the stupid coin bags and inevitably one split, sending 5p pieces spinning across the counter and onto the floor. The sound of Rajeev busy in the kitchen was the only thing that stopped him screaming out his rage. Defeated, frustrated and angry he somehow channelled his energy and set about collecting the fiddly coins all over again, while more heated ideas infiltrated his thoughts.

'Maybe it was Christian who was running scared? He was always accusing me after all! Maybe all this pushing away was actually him afraid to admit the truth. That he was pretending to want something that he didn't any more, commitment to just one guy? And this! This is his perfect excuse to sleep around again. What he really wanted all along!' This thought gave him even less comfort than any other he'd had tonight but at least it gave him something to rail against.

Coins once more successfully collected, he sealed the last bag and shoved it in with the others.

He was on a roll and he was venting his hurt and anger at what he knew was happening now... in their home.

'It wasn't me who walked away!...twice! It's not me who's scared of commitment! Well let him sleep with whoever he likes...he can sleep with everyone! I don't care anymore!'

Except he knew he did. Too much. He consoled himself with the hope that if the lads hadn't puked in their toilets, could they at least choose outside Christian's front door? And the big guy too big for the sofa could tread in it on his way out.

His last job was almost done and the absence of any chopping noises coming from the kitchen told him Rajeev must be just about finished now too.

He looked across at the door, slightly squinting his eyes in thought as if he could see them.

'What are they doing now? . Laughing? Joking? Drinking?...Kissing?' He tried to picture the guy's mouth...small? Ugly? He hadn't really looked...he'd tried not to. He didn't have much hair, he remembered that and bad breath...he hoped he had bad breath. Where would they do it? As soon as they got in the door like he and Christian often did? Had done. Would it be over? Because of the bad breath and his tiny prick? Would Christian think of him and wish he had hair?

Would he grab for hair and finding none, think of him? ... and miss him... and stop?

Would Christian have been wishing it was him all the time? Was it a sin to be praying that this guy was really crap in bed? He had a fair idea what the Iman would tell him if he was ever rash enough to ask .

Making bad jokes to himself wasn't helping anything. It just hurt too much.

He tried to remember the instructions Tam had given him to print a hard copy of the nights takings, but his eyes had blurred and he couldn't make out the key codes. He heard steps coming towards him from the kitchen and he hastily wiped his eyes, feeling stupid for being caught. He'd managed so well up till now hadn't he? Apart from his brusied hand and the coins and almost wiping the colour from the tiles in the toilets. And upsetting the new waiter.

"Boss...is it alright if I go now? I see you've done the tables, the dishwashers on and I'm all finished in the kitchen..."

Clearing his throat Syed hoped his voice didn't give him away,

"Um ..Yes, thanks...you did a great job Rajeev, thankyou."

He suddenly felt bad about the cold plate of uneaten samosas and so he assured him.

"I'll take the samosas home..reheat them, sorry Rajeev, cleaning the toilets must have taken away my appetite." he laughed, it was a poor excuse for a laugh though.

Rajeev laughed politely back but more convincingly than Syed had. Feeling a little bit awkward, Syed thought of something to ask him.

"Oh...one thing... Tam mentioned where he kept the new menus but I forgot...I want to replace some of the damaged ones before we open tomorrow."

Syed sometimes couldn't understand how he could still talk about something so mundane when his heart was breaking...but it was what he did wasn't it? Coped...but how long can you do that? Pretend you are coping when inside you're falling apart? Can people even tell?

The look Rajeev was giving him told him they could.

"They're under the table boss ...in the office under the serviettes...do you want me to get them for you before I leave?"

Syed tried to snap himself out of it... "No...thank you...that's fine you saved me hours of searching...thanks...goodnight Rajeev."

The older man went to leave but came back instead and laid a reassuring hand on Syed's shoulder.

"He'll be alright ...your brother...he'll be fine ...it will just take time."

Syed nodded but he couldn't find anything to say back. He hardly knew the guy but his unexpected kindness had touched him. Rajeev seemed to understand although of course he didn't really. With a consoling smile and a squeeze of his arm he left.

Alone now, Syed locked the money away in the safe...popped the samosas into a takeway bag... dug out the menus from under the desk...put the cushions straight hoping Afia would approve...turned off all the lights bar one...and went to set the alarm. There was nothing else for it, he couldn't put off going home any longer.

A late train rumbled overhead and made the only light still on, sway. Shadows danced around him projecting images of another time. Memories so sketchy. Proudly attending his brother's engagement...Christian by his side...chaos and crashing and dust and pain... and Christian. Christian always by his side...he'd been swimming in and out of consciousness as they'd moved him , searing pain shooting through his leg, but it had all been ok because Christian was there... holding his hand, telling him he was alright...and he believed him. Nobody else could have made him feel safe then. Not the paramedics, not his father if he'd even tried... only Christian. Sounds and faces had blurred but one thing...one thing had felt real, had anchored him...Christian... Christian was with him and he'd made it all bearable.

So where had it all gone wrong? He'd go back there in an instant, take the pain...even the cold looks his mother gave him and the hateful words from his father...he'd take it all over again, be lying there in the dust again just to have Christian still there beside him. But Christian didn't want him...he was too complicated now...too torn...his life too messed up. Christian loved him he'd told him that, but it wasn't enough anymore. And how do you fight that? How do you make yourself less complicated without hurting someone else you love?

'What did he expect me to do?I left my family. He thought I'd go back to them but I never did, never would have. But I hurt her...I hurt Amira so much. And I have a daughter with her...a daughter I love. We're all they have now because of me. But I still love him.

'Sy it's not about other guys. I'm just scared...scared that one day you're going to wake up and want something else.'

He could hear him saying it as if he was there...still feel their heads touching.

When they'd first got together, properly got together, he'd been the insecure one. Not because Christian had made him feel that way...more because he was afraid he wouldn't be enough for him...that Christian might find settling down with him less than he expected it to be, that he'd miss his old life. But over time it had changed...the last year he'd been the one reassuring Christian, that he really wouldn't suddenly wake up and want something else. Caring about Amira, loving Yasmin had never, could never affect how much he loved Christian. Or needed him.

'So why did he leave me? Why is he with someone else tonight?'

Pain turned to anger again.

'Does he only love me if I play by his rules? If not we're over...again! Is that how it is?' He snatched his jacket from the coat hook as other thoughts crept in.

'Oh God, what if they're outside when I go past?...or maybe he's left?...I could call?' Syed punched the number into the alarm with some renewed faith and quickly made his way outside. As soon as he shut the door though, reality returned. 'He'd have rung me if he'd changed his mind...he'd want me to know it was nothing wouldn't he? He'd have come back? Wouldn't he have rung me?'

He double checked the door was locked...that all the lights were off and slowly, hands shoved in his pockets and wanting to be invisible, he made his way home. If there was any hope at all, what he saw next might kill it and he wasn't ready. They weren't butterflies in his stomach they felt like aeroplanes swooping around. He crossed the square and he got his answer... lights on after all. He could hear music, not too loud and he could make out shapes inside. Indistinct silhouettes through the blinds. But it looked like them...he hurried past, he'd seen enough.

Once inside his parents house, Syed shut the door as quietly as he could and leaned his back against it, closing his eyes against what he'd seen. He'd seen shadows...two people, too tall for Jane.

'Damn! Damn me for looking! And damn him!...damn him for being such a... a tart!' He was trying so hard to hate him...it would be so much easier if he could hate him. He kicked off his shoes and held the threatening tears back. With socked feet he pushed his shoes into the corner and felt his way along the hall. His eyes gradually adjusting to the dark, he made out a note his mother had left for him, where she knew he'd hang his jacket.

Pulling it from the wall he took it into the front room where he could put a lamp on. The hall lights always woke his dad up.

Despite his mood he smiled as he read it;

" I've put some clean laundry in a bag for Tamwar since he would obviously prefer not to see his mother or his wife right now! Please don't forget them. And some magazines... And don't put the hall lights on! You will wake your father...he has a very early start. Thank you, mum. X"

'Yes ma and I haven't?' He sighed. He planned to visit Tam early, then he wanted to contact a lot more retailers and they had a big delivery coming into Butcher's Joints which he'd need to collect and check over too. He busied his mind. He also wanted to sound Amira out about the idea of a market stall and he could just picture her reaction to that! It was hardly the high class boutique he knew she'd prefer.

He did understand his mum, she was feeling lost that's all. Tam was pushing her away, things with Masood were still strained...she needed to do this... to feel in control of something again after all she'd been through. It was her way, orders barked out or in this case written down with exclamation marks to achieve the same.

He'd talk to her again tomorrow though, help her to understand how Tam was feeling, that it wasn't her. Remembering the samosas in his jacket pocket he decided he'd better bin them before she found them, he could guess what her reaction to them would be!

'What's this pappu? Your mother's samosas not good enough any more, you have to bring some home?'

He grinned, she'd already made the sofa up all ready for him to sleep on. As quietly as he could he made his way upstairs into the bathroom.

Emerging shortly afterwards, Syed noticed the door to Amira's room was slightly open and he couldn't resist peaking inside to see his baby girl. The bright light from the streetlamp outside, diffused through the curtains helped him make out her sleeping form. She was a bit of a fidget like him and she'd thrown off her covers, so he stole as quietly as he could across to her and tucked them gently back around, pausing to lovingly stroke one soft cheek. Was it the light playing tricks or did she smile? He smiled back at her anyway. One of her hands was stretched up and he popped his index finger into her tiny palm and she immediately closed her little fingers around it, flooding warmth right through him and pricking all his protective instincts. Whatever private pain he was in he'd go though it a million times over to protect her. He'd wanted Christian to share that feeling, love her as much as he did and once more tonight, thoughts of what he'd lost threatened to overcome him.

He gently eased his finger free from Yasmin's grasp, miming a silent kiss before reluctantly turning to leave the room, being careful to avoid the one floorboard that he knew might give him away. He'd almost made it when Amira stirred...he froze and held his breath.

It had instantly brought back that horribly familiar, sick feeling of knowing he was supposed to climb in beside her. All those nights when he'd slid carefully, guiltily next to her, desperate not to wake her. As time had gone on he'd realised that she'd probably only been pretending to be sleeping anyway. Such was their marriage. And yet together they had made something beautiful. Through all that heartache, they did have Yasmin.

He'd expected her to want him out of her life, to want to divorce him, but it hadn't turned out that simple. It scared her...she wanted respectability...for herself, for Yasmin. It was just taking time for her to come round to what they had to do, for both of them. But that was something he understood only too well though. Anthony Moon certainly looked like he was smitten, he was like a lovesick puppy around her and although Syed couldn't really see them as a couple, he did hope it might help her, to be so obviously adored. For so long he wished he could have been that man for her but now he wished he'd never tried...but then how would he have known he couldn't be? And that he never could have been.

Amira had settled again and he dared let out a breath. She looked so peaceful, the half-light softening her already beautiful features. Features that he'd helped to harden. She hadn't deserved any of this...if she was bitter it was his fault. He wondered if the guilt over her would ever stop? Did he deserve it to? His fragile hold on his emotions threatened to betray him again, he bit his lip and quietly turned away from her, taking the last few steps out of her room, grateful at least that she hadn't woken and he'd have had to see the hope rise and then fade in her face as it always did.

In the quiet dimness he felt his way slowly back down the stairs. Once at the bottom he fetched the bag his mum had made up for Tam and placed it by his shoes in the hall so he wouldn't forget.

Carefully making his way back over to the sofa, he wondered if the fact that he could still hear the muted music through the wall was a good thing. Was it heartbreak music or romantic music he couldn't tell? He hoped it was the former.

After stripping to his boxers and folding his clothes he lay down, trying hard to shut out his feelings ...all the hurt, the betrayal, the jealousy, the guilt, all of it. He was tired...too tired. And he wasn't coping.

As the steady muffled thump of the base notes coming from next door stopped, he pulled the covers around himself and cried.

He just wanted him back.