Title:What Lies Within Us
Author: MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)
Spoilers: Follows directly on from the 6/01/2012 and chronicles what may have happened in the weeks they were offscreen.
Rating: M - because it's Chryed and they're making up -_-
Summary: Christian and Syed love each other. But the unbreakable has been broken; and now they have to pick up the pieces of their shattered relationship and put them back together.
A/N: I'm so sorry this one took so long! The last one was like an emotional punch in the gut to write - it really drained me, so to be fresh-faced and ready to rumble for this chapter I focused on some other things before coming back to this. The issues raised in the last chapter will be coming back, but, as I am trying to be as realistic and true to the characters as possible, they may not be addressed directly or immediately. I watched this whole storyline feeling equal exasperation and understanding and sympathy with both characters - I wanted to bang their heads together and hug them both at the same time. I found myself understanding where each character was coming from, but understanding and sympathising does not necessarily mean not being critical of what they have done. As such, this fiction will reflect that dual standpoint. It's why I'm taking the time to alternate viewpoints between chapters, because I think both boys deserve a fair shot at saying their piece, explaining where they came from, whilst, at the same time, acknowledging the respective wrongs they have committed. They have both been deeply hurt - and, conversely, they have both done things to hurt each other. And I don't feel any resolution can be come to until both sides of this have been addressed. Just a little ramble so you kind of understanding what position I'm writing this from, and what intentions I have for it's future :)
HUUUUUUUUGE thanks in capital letters to Jenn for her awesome super-dooper beta-ing skills of awsum.
What Lies Within Us
"What lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Chapter 5
The steam curls up from the cup, licking gently along Syed's arm as he finishes pouring the water onto the coffee granules. As the noise of the kettle dies down, he becomes aware of the sound of gentle singing mingling with the frenetic patter of the shower; a tiny smile creeps onto his lips as he freezes, his whole world focusing in on faint notes that weave their way through the flat. It's quieter than he remembers it being, before everything went so wrong, but it's still there. Like a faint echo of the good thing that they somehow managed to ruin.
At the very least, it seems to suggest that Christian is more at ease than he's been these past few days. And that is enough to put Syed at ease.
That's the thing that has changed since the night of their first date – the night that became their first proper attempt at dealing, in a round about way, with everything that has happened in the past few months.
It could probably have taken place in a healthier setting, Syed knows that, but it happened. That's the important thing. It was the first step that they'd been avoiding – even if Christian did have to push him into it. And no matter how painful that pushing was, no matter how it smarted to dip his toes begrudgingly into the seething waters of all those guilty things they've said and done, he's glad it happened. After all, at least now the dance they're doing is slightly less on edge – there is no longer an unconfronted bleakness that haunts their every movement.
He's beginning to enjoy just being here, with Christian, again.
That, above all else, was the thing that he missed – the thing that he longed for even as he was telling himself that he was over it – the silent looks that say more than anything, the gentle touches that have nothing to do with sex and everything to do with contact, the general aura of sharing a world and a life with the one person who can make that world and that life worthwhile…
"What have I warned you about thinking?"
Syed is snapped out of his reverie as the familiar timbre wraps itself around teasing words; there's a tiny smile on Christian's face as he moves into the kitchen area, a towel clinging snugly around his waist, droplet of water tracing glistening rivulets on his skin as he scrapes a hand through his dripping hair.
There's a moment's pause as Syed drinks him in, the steaming mug frozen between his fingers as his eyes traverse the length of Christian's body – and, in that moment, he begins to regret the agreement that they made those few nights ago.
As the days have gone by, it's grown steadily harder to honour that promise: the promise to start over, to do things properly, to keep their hands off each other (to a certain extent, of course) until they've been through the three date ritual that they never had the chance to do before. On the one hand, Syed knows, the restrictions they placed upon themselves have done wonders for the talking aspect of their relationship – well, it's done wonders to ease the flow of the teasing, flirtatious banter, knowing that there is no end goal and ulterior motive to it - but, on the other, living together as a couple in all respects other than that…
"My face is up here," a hand reaches out, a finger catching under Syed's chin to gently pull his head up – tilting his face so that he can meet Christian's gaze. There's something in Christian's eyes that he can't quite place. It isn't the fact that there's a tentative waver in his movements and his speech – there is, but that's something they've both grown used to in each other during this process – but that there's something swimming in the sea of his eyes, floundering about just below the waves, too far immersed for Syed to be able to read it properly.
That's something else that he knows they need to work on. There was a time not so long ago when Christian had been able to read him like an open book, and vice versa. Although it is becoming easier for them to decipher the ticks and the tells and the movements and the looks that make up ninety-percent of their communication, fluency is still something they are struggling with.
"I can't help it," he smiles as Christian reaches out, plucking the mug from his hand and taking a cheeky sip of coffee – that was coupley, and Syed loves every second of it. "You can't enforce a ban on sex and then rock up in a towel. Especially in the morning. It's not fair."
Suddenly, an idea strikes him. His smile transforms into a sly grin as he moves closer to Christian, eager for a share of the warmth that is emanating from his skin – eager to be as close as possible, eager to touch and feel and share the same breath, to make up for all those weeks apart.
"Tell you what," there's a cheeky tone hanging from each word as he splays his fingers out on Christian's chest, noting with some pleasure the way Christian's heart seems to jump suddenly beneath his palm. "How about we go out for lunch, and then we go out for dinner – added with the other night, that'd make three dates."
Instead of the response Syed was expecting, Christian hands the coffee back to him and pulls away, his eyes still speaking in a language that Syed simply cannot decipher. He feels frustration bubbling up within him; frustration at Christian for having that look in the first place, and frustration at himself for not being able to read the words that are banging against his brain.
"It's only two more dates," Christian said quietly, quirking an eyebrow in an admonishment that is part teasing and part sincere. "You've held out for a few nights, you don't think you can hold out for a bit more?"
"It's not that," Syed reached, sliding his fingers softly across Christian upper arm before tracing down the length to gently encircle his hand – it was something Christian usually did to him, an action that was so familiar that it felt odd to be the one acting it out. "It's just...we're living together, being together - it feels like we're a couple again, a proper couple – yeah, we're one that needs some serious work, but we're still a couple. It just feels odd to have that but not have that with you. Feels unnatural. Even when we didn't have anything else, that was the one thing we had…"
Christian looks down at their entwined hands as Syed trails off, sliding his thumb across the back of Syed's hand and refusing to meet his eyes. Syed's heart jumps into his mouth all of a sudden, an ugly feeling gripping him hard in the gut as something he hasn't thought before – or at least, a feeling he hasn't acknowledged before – floods his brain.
"I mean, you…you do…want to, don't you?"
The words have barely left his mouth before Christian looks up, dropping Syed's hand as if the touch has burnt him. For a brief second, Syed's sinks into blackness as he feels every wayward suspicion confirmed – but then he feels a hand sliding to the back of his neck, fingers teasing the wisps of hair that tickle his throat as he's drawn into a kiss that is both heated and tentative at the same time.
Syed closes his eyes and just lets the kiss happen – it feels good to be kissed without hesitancy, to know that Christian isn't over thinking whether or not they should be doing this. It also feels good to be kissed in way that's full of thought and feeling, rather than the blind, almost meaningless passion that they were sucked into a few nights ago. There's still a caution behind the kiss, but that uncertainty no longer informs it – if anything, it makes it all the sweeter.
As Christian breaks away, Syed grips his arm to keep him as close as possible – the remaining dampness on his skin clings to Syed's shirt, infusing the material with the defining smell of him.
"It's not that I don't want to," Christian whispers, his fingers still toying with the hair that brushes the nape of Syed's neck. "This is just something I have to do."
Syed bites his lip; content in the respect that he no longer doubts Christian, but burning with a curiosity he's not sure whether he should try to sate.
"Why?"
The fingers at his nape falter slightly, flattening out against the back of his neck.
"I just do. It's important," he flicks his eyes to Syed, meeting his gaze. "Is that okay?"
A reassuring smile dances across Syed's lips – he cups Christian's cheek, brushing their lips together in a quiet kiss before pulling back.
"I love you."
Christian exhales, as if he has been holding in a breath; the air catches at his lips, dragging them up in a grin as his fingers thread affectionately through Syed's hair.
"And I love you."
The sudden buzzing of Syed's phone interrupts the quiet bubble they've woven around themselves. He scrambles in his pocket, immediately bereft as Christian's heat moves away from him to rummage in the cupboards.
"Amira?" he can feel the air around Christian and himself stiffen as he says the name, barely listening to the chatter on the other end of the line as he watches his maybe-lover with worried, nervous eyes. "Yes…yes, I know…no, I haven't forgotten…I was just about to leave…okay, see you there…"
He ends the conversation as quickly as possible, flipping the phone shut and shoving it into his pocket as if he can bury away all the tension that the appearance of Amira has created in the air. Christian tears open the cereal packet with more force than is really necessary, sending a few pieces skittering along the worktop.
"Work?"
Syed nods.
"Yeah, we've got a meeting about the market stall," he takes a step closer to Christian, laying a hand on his arm and running his thumb in tiny circles across his elbow. "You okay?"
Christian looks up at him, the box freezing in the air as he focuses every ounce of his energy into returning the gaze. Syed can see in his eyes that he's not exactly happy – he's accepted the fact that Christian and Amira will never get on and, after everything, he certainly doesn't expect Christian to want anything to do with her - but there isn't that defeated bleakness, that utterly broken and exhausted look that he's grown tragically used to seeing in those eyes.
"I'm fine," he drops a quick peck on Syed's lips, as if sealing the reassurance. "You just come home to me, yeah?"
"Nowhere else I'd rather be," Syed kisses him one last time, squeezing his arm gently before breaking away to grab his bag and head out of the door.
Amira is waiting for him by the Vic, an indecipherable look on her face as she watches him head over from the house…the house she knows he's now sharing with Christian. Syed feels a rising sense of guilt in the pit of his stomach – whatever he does seems to hurt her, whatever decision he makes seems destined to do her wrong – but this is quickly replaced by the sense of utter rightness that has settled in his heart.
Yes, he knows that it can't be nice for her, and yes, he knows that he and Christian have a way to go before they are back to normal – but that doesn't change the fact that this, him and Christian, together, is the right thing. It's what he wants. It's the only way things could ever, or should ever, be. And the thought twitches his face into a bright smile, a contentedness that overtakes the guilt that's been hissing in his ear for such a long time.
"You look…" Amira's voice seems to get stuck as he approaches, as if the word 'happy' can't quite make it's way out of her throat; her arms are crossed over her chest as she looks him up and down, her eyes searing into him as if she wants to burn him up with the guilt of it all. She swallows, trying again, as if she's having to translate the situation in the only way that makes sense.
"Well, someone got lucky last night."
As she turns away, Syed feels himself bristle – it's not quite enough to drown the smile that still clings, limpet-like, to his lips – catching the insinuation that thrums through every syllable.
"Actually, no, I didn't."
She turns back at that, surprise clinging to her features.
"What?"
"I didn't," Syed lowers the bag from his shoulder and hooks it over his arm, vaguely conscious that he is creating a protective shield that covers his front. "We haven't, yet."
"Oh," the surprise turns to a look of triumph, a smugness that creases every inch of her beautiful face – twisting the prettiness of her features and turning them bitterly ugly. Syed wishes at that moment that he can somehow help her move on. Not only so that he can finally be free of the guilt, of the bitterness, and of the oppressive air, the air of hope that they may somehow, impossibly get together, that she projects whenever he spends time with her; but also because he wants the prettiness of her face to match her eyes once again.
But he shakes those feelings away; there was a reason he answered her truthfully, a reason that he decided it would be a good – and he uses the term loosely – idea to bring his and Christian's sex life so directly into the conversation. And it has everything to do with the look of smug triumph that clings to her face as she considers his words.
"We decided to wait," he says matter-of-factly – shifting the bag from one arm to another, whilst always keeping it hanging across his front. "You know, do things properly this time. We owe that to each other."
The triumphant glare morphs into one of confusion.
"I don't…"
"It's more than sex, Amira," it's blunt, but he's not doing it to hurt her – the longer she clings to the notion that it was only the sex, or lack thereof, that drew him away from her, the longer she will cling to the notion that somehow this can be rekindled. "Me and Christian. I'm not just with him because of the sex. I love him. I'm in love with him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him – and that means I want to be with him even if we're old and grey and quite possibly impotent. You have to understand that. You do understand that, don't you?"
Amira looks as though she's been slapped; her whole body seems to recoil away from him, as if she can deflect what she's just heard. Syed feels a rising surge of guilt within him – he hates this, he hates this whole situation, but he knows that it is a necessary evil. She has to know this. He wants this, for Christian, for Amira and for himself.
Christian needs to know – and Amira needs to know.
For all of their sakes, he had to say it. She needs to understand. However much guilt he feels for the situation she is in, for the situation that he put her in, she'll be forever lost in this hopeless cycle of hope if he doesn't ensure that she knows: he loved her and loves her still, but he never was and never could be in love with her.
A lifetime with her had been endurable.
A lifetime with Christian didn't feel like enough time.
And that was the difference. That had always been the difference.
Only, he doesn't think he's been as clear about that in the past as he could have been.
He needs them both to know it now.
"Amira, you do understand?"
"Yes, of course, I'm not an idiot," she throws her hair behind her shoulder, as if she can throw away everything she has just heard. "Now, are we going to go to this meeting or not?"
As she turns away from him, striding away with defiant steps, he feels his heart sink – he very much doubts that she understands, and he's at a loss as to how much clearer he can be. It tears him up inside, this knowledge that he can't say anything clearly enough; that he can make himself heard, that he can't make himself understood, that whatever he says, however hard he tries, nothing he says will ever be enough to…
His phone suddenly vibrates in his pocket, jerking him out of the swirling spiral of despondency:
How d'you fancy going for food tonight? Then a film and snuggling on the couch? We haven't done that in a while. Love you. xxx
A smile creeps onto his face as he reads it, once, twice and then a third time, his eyes lapping up every word as if they are the most beautiful things he' ever seen.
Maybe he is getting through, somewhere.
x
x
TBC
Thank you for reading! It's going to be a long road with steps forward and steps backward, but I think that's realistic. They will get there eventually! If you have any comments, please feel free to leave them, they really do help - if not, keep on reading, keep on reading *sings like Dory*