Though it seems another world away now, this time was some of the last of a recognisable Chryed – when Christian was an idiot but a good one and Lordy he loved his boy (as love should be), the only annoying woman near Syed was Roxy, and you wanted Syed to be with Mr. Clarke to insane levels – and so I'm going to try and finish it. If I manage it, only a couple more to go.

Thank you hugely for the reviews and sorry it took so long! Happy Christmas everyone (click on my name and there's a 'present' from last year, if you like reading about sick and dodgy angels).

Dedicated to Carla, for her fine December work x


"Does this look wonky to you?"

Syed skewed his head, angling it slowly.

"Er no, don't think so."

"It looks wonky to me."

A sigh fell from Samantha, surveying the 'Merry Christmas' sign with a look that suggested it was trying to destroy her. There was something about premature corporate promotion that sucked the soul, she thought, though catching handsome men for assistance softened the blow.

"You couldn't hold that for me, could you? I'm a bit short."

"Sure," he smiled, taking one edge of the banner offered by needing hands. "Not that I'm much better. I can't even reach the fire alarm in our flat, though I think my partner makes that a bigger deal just to look important…"

He laughed shyly;

"Fire's a hazard. We live above a chip shop."

"I live above an Indian…I mean a restaurant, an Indian take-away, obviously," she mouths, comforting herself that making a fool of herself no longer mattered when she had no chance at all.

"I'd probably like that smell better. Familiar…"

She smiled, trying to decipher the fondness or the sadness in large brown eyes;

"This is your only training, I mean you'll be back home for the holidays?"

"Oh yeah, I'm done in a couple of days."

"That's good then. Bet your mum'll be happy."

"Yeah…"

Syed murmured, suddenly giving the banner more attention than it needed.

"We don't actually celebrate it. She won't mind if I'm not there."

"Oh right… Well you're probably better off out of it. I mean I like Christmas, but you know the mince pies and films. Seeing people you can't stand thing…not that much fun."

"I'm lucky, I don't really have that. Well I don't think Roxy's coming for dinner…"

"Who? I know I don't do myself any favours. It's early and I've already said I'll go to this party, a friend of a friend's cousin or something. My sister says I'm easily swayed and though I didn't think so I guess she's right."

"I'm more of a home-body too."

"I just don't like it. I mean I'm only young, I know I should, but…strangers, random places you don't know. I don't get it."

"No, me either…"


He held the shake of his breath, listening in the silence to the alcohol seeped snores pulsating from the mound on the bed. It clawed through the aching strain in his chest and he couldn't bear to hear it, yet he clung to the constant drone of it, each cold, comforting proof that he wouldn't have to face the waking.

He grabbed the cotton of his t-shirt from the floor, holding it against him, shivering at its touch against the imagined rawness of his skin. There had to be markings, though in the sickness he could not trace a memory of a physicality that had put them there. The thought made his chest flush, feeling flashes of movements and those trapped only in the wanting of his mind. He threaded his arms quickly, pulling the cloth over his needful closing eyes, resting, grasping the temporary darkness and the reprieve it said it may bring. To dress was shameful in these times, he wondered if acts when naked would forever make clothing sting.

The cluster of the stench and the dirt of it were running through his skin, he could taste the foulness of it, itched from the putrefying rot of the squalor at his feet. Except there was no rot, at least in surroundings. There was a television angled towards the bed, CDs strewn from past browsing on a crafted shelf, pictures of happiness in frames around the room. This was a home, a normal flat where someone lived. He found himself wishing for visible dirt. It was easier that way.

He had kissed him quickly, hard. The force of it had taken Syed's breath but he had let him, willingly drowning in the taste of vodka, heat, and sweat. He could feel himself being pushed against the sticky firmness of a wall, foreign hands tracing themselves down, grabbing and groping with others watching, their eyes briefly glancing before turning to their own. He had touched him in the pound of the darkness, given him the flash of a badness that had, as in the times before, felt so good. And then they were somewhere, and Syed had forgotten to care where. He was following men he didn't know to wherever they took him, and he couldn't say whether it was this that was making him or whether that was just him all along.

A popping drone came from the sheets and he turned his head, Syed's breath calming as the snores returned to a steady sound. Out the corner of his eye he caught the leather hanging down and buckled his belt quickly, hand fumbling with a shake. He wanted to be away from this and he wanted to now, telling himself he would walk, he'd run as a taxi couldn't be called if he didn't know where he was.

He stood at the door and he looked down. He couldn't look at the sheets.


Syed smoothed the maid pressed sheets and perched on the bed. He'd been spending too much time in this room but he had to admit he liked that it was familiar. It was a nothing room and was missing a certain person that would bring it to life but it was safe at least. It didn't feel safe out there and he felt that without taking a foot outside the complex that had brought him here.

He sighed, dipping his head down. He wished in these moments he could say things out loud, that the small voice inside of him that whispered what he felt was worthy of words could be believed. The trouble was there were many words that no one wanted to hear and those same things, though better uttered than kept wrapped and suffocating, he preferred to leave unsaid.

It wasn't getting him anywhere, he was fully aware of that. Talking if there was someone who wanted to listen, he thought, couldn't be that bad. He looked at the mobile sitting tauntingly next to him and grabbed it to dial before he could have another doubt.

At the tenth ring he sighed. Christian had text he'd be at the Vic at some event tonight but Syed was hoping he would be home by now. It didn't seem that way and he began to push down an ache;

"I did it!"

The sound of a body colliding with a table thudded and Syed pulled the phone from his ear;

"You did what? Christian?"

"Nothing. What did you do? Who is this?"

"Syed. Who were you expecting?"

"Syed!"

Christian cried, a shriek of happiness and familiar surprise.

"Sy. Sy Sy Sy. Sy!"

Syed's mouth gaped and he pressed a hand into the bed;

"Christian how much have you had?"

"Some Sy. I've had some."

"Some? You sound like you've had everybody's."

"Don't be cross, you're not cross are you? I miss you so much I've turned to drink."

Syed raised an eyebrow;

"Turned?"

"Turn what? I don't know what you're saying Sy. Eugh I taste like shit."

Syed lets out a laugh, shaking his head;

"You're almost making me grateful I'm in another county. Are you ok? Are you by yourself?"

"Why what have they said?"

"Who?"

"What?"

"Christian… Roxy, Jane, where are they?"

"Somewhere. Jane's mad at me…I think. I failed or something. Chip man got her, I forget."

Syed rubbed his thumb along his temple, fully aware that when Christian started using his own names for relatives, considerable vodka had been consumed.

"Have you had some water?"

"Hmmm yes, water. I did that. It was wet."

"It tends to be."

"I think you should just get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow, okay."

"No talk now. You called me…"

"Yeah I did but… now's not the time. It's fine okay, just go to sleep."

"Don't go. I have to tell you something."

Christian pauses;

"I did something bad."

He asks cautiously;

"What sort of bad?"

"I tried to buy barman Ryan."

"Excuse me?"

"At the Vic. I was supposed to buy Jane I think but…I got distracted, or something."

"There's something about Ryan Malloy that's distracting for you?"

"His arse was vaguely distracting."

Syed's voice fell flat;

"Was it?"

"I don't remember."

"Yeah let's stick with that shall we."

"Syed?"

"What?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Flannel Pyjamas."

"LIAR! You didn't even take any flannels."

"I got some from housekeeping. They're draped over me."

"That's hot."

"I'm sure. Listen, I think you should just get to bed."

"It's a sad bed without you though, all cold and 'orrible."

"And you haven't got random straight men to keep you warm."

"You. I haven't got you to keep me warm. I mean I've got the heating but… I'm being romantic."

A smile lets itself creep onto Syed's face;

"I got that."

"I'm going to go to bed."

"Good idea."

"You're back in two days right?"

"Yeah…" Syed murmured, bringing himself out of the thoughts. "When I come home I don't want you to have bought anymore humans ok? Or tried to. Just stay away from the whole thing."

"What about animals? Can I buy animals?"

"A goldfish."

"No I want a badger. And a ferret named Steve. And a lama."

"You'd never fit all them in the flat."

"Come home soon or I'll do it. A menagerie."

"Don't worry, I don't want to stay here… Go and get some sleep okay."

He stared at the small window, northern frost crisping the glass.

"And don't forget to take your jeans off."