"Are you gonna tell me what's up or are you just going to sit there looking like you've been sucking on lemons all day?"
"Thanks, Rox."
"Oh come on babe," a soft hand reaches to mine across the table, giving what she must mean as a reassuring squeeze, "just tell me what's up. I hate seeing you like this."
Truth is, I don't exactly want to tell her 'what's up'. I don't want to tell anyone, this is the problem. It's none of their business. The fact that Syed's not spoken to me in five days, not answered my calls, ignored my texts, left me standing at his front door – perhaps a little drunk – late at night trying to get him to talk to me is none of their business.
Jane told me to 'give him some space'. Pffth, yeah, and pigs might fly. I've never understood when people say that: give them some space. I gave him a whole two days space and no good seemed to come of it. Why would you rather sit there, over thinking everything in your head and getting worked up about it than actually talk to the other person and sort things out? I don't understand it, never will.
"I'm fine, Rox."
"Oh well that's the biggest load of bollocks I've heard all week." Sitting back in her chair she carefully studies my face. "Is it this new bloke of yours?"
Okay, call me a bad friend but... I maybe haven't told her all about Syed yet. I was going to! But in my own time. The last thing I need right now is Roxy taking the absolute piss out of me. And she would, I know she would. It was bad enough having to tell Dave and Alex - though they did behave a lot better than I thought they were going to, and they have been supportive of me, in their own special way.
Honestly, there's not anyone I want to talk to about this. Well, the one person I would talk to is the very one I'm currently not talking to, which some might say defeats the purpose. Bloody hell why won't he just call me!
"Ugh...!" with a defeated groan I lay my head on my hands which rest on the wooden table, hiding myself away from the rest of the world and all its utter shitness. There really is nothing more I want to do now than to curl up in a corner and hide myself away from everything. Why, why are relationships so fucking complicated?
"Baaabe."
"I hate my stupid life!"
...
"Come on Christian, smiiile." Dave's face, too close to mine, tries to mimic the facial expression I'm apparently supposed to pull. I resist slapping him around the face and instead turn to Alex, who's pouring me my third glass of wine.
"David shut up."
Well that did it; the use of Dave's full name from his partner never fails to shut him up. It's a rare occurrence, and you know Alex is highly irritated when he resorts to that as his final 'stop it, now' command. Dave is always Dave, that is, when he's not acting like an idiot and making everyone within ten feet of him want to pull their own hair out.
"So he hasn't spoken to you at all? Not even a tiny little text?" Alex asks, as he passes me back my glass of red which I take gladly in my grasp, bringing the rim of the glass to my mouth and savouring the taste as the bitter sweet liquid pours down my throat. Fuck that's good.
"Not at all." It's bitter when I say it, and I'm aware that my voice is angry but I have less control over it now, the emotions becoming less and less concealed as the beginning effects of alcohol begin to take their toll. I can feel the tingling in my lips and the burn of my throat, both tell tale signs that if I carry on drinking like this I'll be drunk within 10 minutes.
"Give it a few more days." Alex says, giving me a sympathetic smile. "And if you still can't get through then I'll go round and kick his door down for you."
I smile.
"Thanks."
"Honestly though Chris, don't read too much into this. Syed isn't exactly your average boyfriend, is he?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well he isn't, is he? Don't forget all the crap he went through when he came out. And that guy who practically raped him."
"Don't." I say loudly, placing my hands over my face to try and block out that thought. I could kill that bastard.
"All I'm saying is, he might just need some time to get used to this. Didn't you say this was the first relationship he's ever been in? He's bound to freak out sometimes."
"He didn't freak out though." I sigh. "He looked at me as if... like he hated me or something." Again, my hands make their way over my face.
"Oh babes don't say that, he doesn't hate you." Dave says as he strokes my arm.
"Dave's right Chris, just give him a bit longer, yeah?"
I'm about to hit my head against the table for what will be the millionth time before my phone goes in my pocket. It's Jane.
...
It's starting to get dark by the time I make it to the cafe, the sun having set a few minutes before, sending the whole sky into a picturesque painting of navy with remnants of orange and red. Heart thumping loudly in my chest I try desperately to keep calm. The alcohol has worn off now and I have completely sobered, Jane's message having got me up and out the house quicker than anything. 'He's in the caf.' She said, and now here I am practically running through the market to get there. I have no idea what exactly will happen, or even if he's still there, sat in the corner with his hot chocolate as Jane told me he was.
Coming to a still in the middle of the road I look on to the building in front of me. Never before have I been so eager, yet so reluctant to enter a cafe before. The desperation that's been following me the past few days to see him still burns tightly in my chest, pulling and clenching and making it difficult to breathe. Yet that cloud of doubt resting over my head seems to make me want to turn and run. What a coward I am. But what will he say when he sees me? Will he look at me with that anger, that disgust in his eyes like he did the last time? Those brown eyes... those big, beautiful brown eyes that I could dive into; I don't want to see them hurting, not again.
Breathe. Breathe Christian, and face this like a man.
The first thing my eyes fall on as I enter is the tired face of my sister as she types something in to the till for a waiting customer. She briefly catches my eye and smiles, nodding her head to the side with wide eyes and a slight cough of the throat, indicating that indeed, the beautiful boy is sat in the far corner of the room, hunched over an almost-empty mug of hot chocolate.
I watch on for what feels like hours, chest tightening more and more with each passing second. His hair ruffled, face slightly flushed from the chill outside, his gorgeous body clad in a slightly scruffy navy blue hoodie and jeans; possibly the most beautiful I've ever seen him.
Dark circles under his eyes tell me he's tired, as though he hasn't slept properly for days. Lifting his head slowly, as though he'd sensed he was being watched, his eyes find me. For the briefest of seconds my heart stops, waiting for his expression, his reaction... anything to tell me how he is feeling right now. If he's feeling as awful as I am.
"Hey," I mouth almost silently, as though the room was filled with noisy customers drinking their coffee. But it isn't, it is empty accept for us, a couple by the window and Jane behind the counter.
He doesn't respond, just keeps staring at me with those big eyes as if I had just walked in completely starkers or something. Current situation dispelled, I would have laughed.
I keep walking forwards until I am close, close enough to reach out and touch him.
"Can I sit?" I ask in a relatively clam voice, a hand pointed to the chair opposite him in question.
After a few, long seconds, he nods his head with a swallow.
The chair squeaks noisily as I pull it back, tearing through the neither uncomfortable nor awkward silence, just... quiet. As I sit opposite him I move the chair closer to the table, closer to him, and our legs touch for the briefest of moments. I can feel the stare of my sister's gaze on my back which proves to be slightly unnerving – I would do anything to be talking to him in the privacy of mine or his flat.
"Can we talk?" my voice is quiet, and under any other situation I would have called myself pathetic, but the fact that this is a make-or-break with Syed makes everything so much different. Laugh at me, call me a teenage girl, whatever. I'm getting this boy back no matter what.
"I... I think we should." A rough, yet gentle voice fills the air and it's a shock at just how much I've missed that sound, the glide of his velvety voice as he speaks to me the way no one else ever has.
Looking up to meet his gaze our eyes lock, and that tight feeling in my chest intensifies. My hand itches to reach out to his and take it, but I tell myself not to; now is not the time.
"Syed..."
"Christian..."
We speak at the same time, causing the corner of his mouth to lift in to the smallest of smiles.
"You first." I say, desperate for him to say something anything that I can make sense of.
He waits a few seconds, eyes fixed on the fingers that tap quietly on the top of the plastic table between us, clearly sorting out what he wants to say in his head. If his thoughts are anything as jumbled as mine, it will take him a sufficient amount of time to get them into some sort of coherent order. My exhausted brain wouldn't know where to start.
Head dropping slightly, his shoulders slump on a sigh.
"I'm sorry." He says, mouth poised as if he is going to continue, but the pained expression in his eyes tell me he has no idea how to. The brown eyes are lost, so completely lost.
"I'm sorry too." I say, scared that if the silence grows any longer he'll up and leave and we'll never get this sorted out.
"No..." A shake of the head. "This isn't your fault, Christian."
But I ignore him.
"Whatever it is that I've done I'm really sorry, just tell me what it is and I promise not to do it again." I try, but it seems to be the wrong thing to say.
"This is exactly it." Saying this to himself he shakes his head.
"What, what is 'exactly it'? Syed tell me."
The frustration grows yet my voice remains calm. The burning feel of guilt, of unknowing sparks within my stomach. If I don't know what it is I've done I'll never be able to make things right!
"You don't know, this is the problem."
"So... it's not my fault, but it is my fault because I don't 'know'..?" This time my voice is most definitely not calm. I give myself a mental shake; don't be an idiot.
"No, it's not your fault because I should never have expected you to know. You wouldn't understand even if I sat you down and told you every last thing about it, you're not in my faith and you never have been, so of course you won't know! It was stupid of me to ever think that you could in the first place."
He's angry too, but not at me, more at himself.
"Your faith?"
"Yes my faith. My religion. Whatever it is you want to call it. It's there Christian and it always will be, and there's nothing you can do to stop that!" He looks upset, furious with everything.
"Hey.." Leaning forward I take his face in my hand, ignoring the efforts he makes to flinch away. "Hey." I repeat again, thumb stroking at the soft skin of his cheek, urging him to calm down.
So this is what it's about? His faith? Well it's not as if it didn't enter my mind, I mean he did mention it to me once, but I wouldn't be lying if I said I didn't really understand. Which is precisely the reason he's so upset in the first place...
"I'm sorry, really I am." I say, taking my hand away from his face, afraid that I'm being too up front.
"I didn't mean to run off like I did." He mumbles, looking up at me through the mischievous tufts of brown waves covering his eyes. "I just... I don't know."
"It's alright, I understand."
"Do you?"
"Well if you give me a chance to then I might surprise you." A small smile plays on my lips before dimming. "Don't rule this out Sy – us."
A pause.
"I don't really know what to do." He admits, playing with the handle of his mug.
"Well then let me help you." I say, reaching for his hand over the table and taking those delicate fingers in mine.
"I don't know if you can." Comes the quiet response.
I look at him from across the small table, the way his eyes gaze back at me, the way his hand fits in mine like it was made to be there. I want him so much it scares me.
"I thought all this was because of the other night." I admit to him, the wave of guilt rushing over me. "I felt awful Syed. I tried to call you to tell you I was sorry. I kept running my head over everything I'd done, if I was right to do what I did and then I thought..."
"What? What did you think?"
Heart pounding, I know that I need to tell him, to see if it really is as bad as I thought...
"That I reminded you of the others you'd slept with. That you didn't feel anything and I'd made you done the exact thing you didn't want to do." I close my eyes, in that moment hating myself for what he must think of me. But as my mind runs through all the things that disgust me about myself and what I've done, I feel the heat of a face close to mine, a forehead touch to mine before the press of warm lips against my waiting mouth.
"Don't..." he whispers against my lips, "don't think that."
My hands find their way to his face, holding him still as I take what I've desperately wanted to take for the past few days. The feel of his lips against mine, his breath as it hits my face. The taste of his mouth as it slides slowly over mine and the smell of his softly scented hair as it brushes my cheek. I love this feeling, but I care about him more. With a gentle push of a hand against his shoulder, I break away from him, heart pounding loudly in my chest.
"I don't want to give you up.." he whispers, a hand running through my hair and down my neck.
"You don't have to." The brush of his fingers down my neck cause my lips to shake.
"Help me, Christian." he asks, in a voice so helpless it breaks my heart. All this time people have been telling me to leave him alone, when what he's needed is someone there for him. To help him through something so difficult it's been years and he still can't work it out.
"Sy.."
"Yeah?" he says, his face still close.
"Come back to mine?"
"Are you sure?"
I laugh.
"Don't be a daft idiot."
"Can I stay over?" He asks quietly.
"Only if you promise me we'll talk about this." I ask, looking into his eyes.
"Only if you promise to make me one of your coffees."
I smile as I lean forward to kiss his forehead.