I know, a massive delay. Sorry! I can only say that with what's happening in canon, it's a small miracle I got this out. I'm going to try and carry this on and do so as the story originally intended, dealing with the themes that have been onscreen in the past and the (believable) ones that are there now. A healthy re-build is as ever the aim and we're very almost there!

More than ever, thank you for the reviews x


"I'm going now."

Christian flattens his hair with the tip of his hand, bending to meet the mirror height. It definitely looks different upon the fifth inspection and he begins the sixth.

Roxy stares, her mouth hanging open in confusion;

"What, why?"

"Because I want to see him."

He says the statement as if it were the most obvious a thing and perhaps it is.

"What, and you're just going to walk up to him?"

"As opposed to?"

"I don't know, calling him."

"Why would I call him? He's not some casual ex, some bloke I met in a club and fancy another go at."

Christian turns to face her;

"It's Sy."

"Yeah but isn't that the… You've barely said a word in what, two months? Maybe turning up at his work isn't the best idea."

He turns, pulling his black hoodie on each arm;

"I'm not turning up at his work."

"Oh good - "

"I'm going to his."


"Thank you for coming."

"It's fine. I didn't want to leave it like that either."

Syed nods gently, grateful for the kindness. He hasn't slept much and was relieved when Munir agreed to come. The night hadn't exactly ended badly; he had been left graciously with no bad words uttered. He had found himself barely resting since despite it, though he was more than aware there was a second face keeping him awake.

His hand finds itself gesturing towards the sofa;

"Do you want to sit down?"

"Thanks, but I won't. I can't stay long…just nipping out at lunch."

"Oh okay. Me too actually."

Syed lifts his lip, looking away quickly in the silence. There's quiet until Munir does the kind thing and breaks it.

"Listen, I'm guessing this is about last night and you really don't have to…we can just forget it –"

"No," Syed rushes, "I mean, yes I called because of last night but no, I don't want to just forget it. I do, I mean, I do want to…but I wanted to talk about it. I'm sick of ignoring the difficult stuff, I don't want to do that with you."

"Okay."

"Last night…I shouldn't have done that."

"It really wasn't any –"

"It was though. I didn't mean it to be, I didn't plan it. I just called you to talk and suddenly…"

He says it quietly;

"I was sad, I was just sad."

"I get it Syed, honestly."

"You've been so lovely though and the last thing I would want to do is use you or hurt you."

"And you didn't. It was just a kiss. You don't have to feel guilty, really. Not for anyone. Besides, I probably should have stopped it myself. I like to think I would have done if it had gone any further."

He tries for an awkward laugh;

"I like to think so anyway."

Syed smiles;

"So we're okay?"

"Of course. I'll try and get caught up on someone who's actually interested and we can…well, your work and Mosque seems nicely platonic. Unless you count me being half naked…for your work obviously, not… Okay I should go at this point," he laughs. "See me out?"


He couldn't think about the details or he was sure he would run. Christian Clarke didn't run. He launched, he pounced. If there was something other people would have balked from, he ran towards it. He would practically strut. Except the times when he didn't, there were those times too. When you're barely an adult and your mum asks you home and you say fuck you because you know everything and there's a night and light that wants you and will kill to have you. When you're too much of an adult to get away with this shit but you're cute enough still and they only slightly care when you fleece them and get out when you're bored. When you're a little brother but supposed to be a man but she's crying and enough of your mind tells you there might be no coming back from this.

Christian Clarke ran; when he had to, when he wanted, when he told himself they had left him with no choice. He ran from him sometimes. Which was ironic considering he had also never run to anything more in his life. Ran with wilful naivety at times and a belief, contrary to every fact and most active signs, that he was his – which he had been really, so he could look back and tell himself he was right. It was a lie to say he'd never run the other way though, whether it was taking the weekend in Vauxhall to flirt with men he didn't remotely want or staying within metres but maintaining a silence he didn't bring himself to break. He'd never get far though and nothing good ever came from trying. The good things only came from him and he wanted them back.

Familiarity of market faces half registering, Christian found it in him to nod politely as he brushed past. He'd pass these stalls and be a couple of minutes away and he'd probably knock or something and ask if they could talk. He couldn't think about the details. He couldn't think about how the one who used to get the mumbled "your elbow's in my stomach" in the morning to the "love you" at night was now who he hadn't spoken to in two months. He could barely comprehend he was about to knock on a door he had to be invited into, the door to a flat where the one who he was meant to share his life with had been sleeping but he had never even seen before.

He knew where it was at least. He'd paid enough attention to conversations in public places that he had had absolutely no interest in to know where Syed was staying. He knew as his feet drew to a halt outside a flat they used to pass by without notice that this was where he should stop. Christian shuffles, thoughts suddenly incapable of being completely ignored. His mind is left with what he suspected was what other humans called doubt and the nerves started to strain. As he begins to consider the etiquette of knocking, the strain falls to relief as the door opens and Syed comes out.

'Sy' he hears himself breathe.

Christian realises, despite it being something close to impossibility, that he forgot just how beautiful Syed is. It is the same negligent part of him that for a moment forgot the degree to which he missed him, an obvious truth lost somewhere within every part of every day that has been worse simply from him not being there. He looks like beauty, warm skin cut against the crisp whiteness of the top he had bought him, a show of belonging and support of another time.

His fingers twitch, as if they are already asking to touch him, to find their way back to stroking the disobedient hair from his face. They twitch and his heart aches and as he begins to move as if it were possible to reach from here, as if he were permitted to if he could, he stops. His heart stops and he sees another at the door. Someone else.

Christian squints, trying from a distance to catch sight. There is part of him that thinks that Syed opened the door because he knew he was waiting. It is unsure why he brought another man with him by his side. He is tall and suited in a way that makes him even more handsome than he already is and Christian quickly traces a year of memories to put a name to the man that is standing inches from the one that is his. He's Asian and he appeases himself for a moment with the thought this increases the innocence and not the threat.

Syed dips his head to the ground and gives what Christian recognises as his gentlest smile, that one that is shyness but will tell the one watching what he wants. The stranger leans slightly and a hand is placed on Syed's back, a palm rubbing against a spot that has never been seen to be touched.

Christian's jaw flexes and he watches as another's lips graze Syed's cheek. His heart does a new form of beat where it tightens; something is squeezing on his chest.

He is unsure when his feet begin to move but they are striding, before he knows it has happened he is there and a hard voice is coming out;

"Well this looks cosy."

"Christian…" Syed stumbles. He has forgotten what it is to see him and his breath catches to have him here.

"Don't let me interrupt. I was coming to talk but clearly you're…"

Christian gives a withering stare to the suit in front of him, "…busy."

"What? I'm not, I…"

"Oh I think you are. Believe me Syed, I know what busy looks like."

"Listen, I'm sure if we just –" Munir attempts.

Christian turns at the sound of a stranger's voice, holding a finger up with pause;

"This has got nothing to do with you."

"If it's to do with Syed then yes it's got something to do with me."

"Oh has it?"

Christian squares slightly, asking low;

"And who exactly are you?"

"He's my friend," Syed says, holding a palm out as if to keep the space between the two. "And he shouldn't have to hear any of this."

He turns to Munir, suggesting quietly;

"Maybe you should get back to work?"

"You heard him," Christian nods. "Run on your little way."

"I'm not going anywhere until Syed asks me to."

It's said with a familiarity Christian doesn't like, as if he's assured of his place, as if that place is to care for Syed. His heart twists as a stranger's voice softens to ask;

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, really. You should go."

"If you're sure?"

"It's fine."

"Okay." Munir gives a glance to Christian and back. "I'll call you about Mosque okay?"

"Yeah."

He's watched by both as he walks away, reluctant and concerned but with the unavoidable feeling that even in these moments no one should be in between them.

Syed shakes his head, his voice quiet despite the only audience now lunch time passers-by.

"What are you doing Christian?"

"What am I doing?"

"Yeah, you. Have you gone insane? Walking up here, starting random fights with people you don't even know."

"Oh but I think one of us knows him. I think one of us knows him really well."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means the issue really isn't what I'm doing but what you've been doing. Or more accurately, who."

"You think?"

"I think I'm not the only one to have gotten one of your lunch time treats."

Syed stares at him, like there's a stillness to it, like with that something has stopped and the air is falling away. Christian's breath catches as if it has, his chest wanting to take that back, to take the months back if in this moment someone would offer it with a clock's tick. He can only look at him, Syed's lip shaking in that way that would be barely noticeable if he were not his, and he stares wondering if right now he still is.

"I don't know what we're doing."

It's said with such quietness Christian could barely hear it if were not that each broken whisper rings in his heart.

"You barely speak to me for what, two months? Then this."

"I didn't mean –"

"You're hurting Christian. I get it. It kills me, I hate it…but guess what, so am I. I hurt every single day that I'm not with you and I hurt every minute I think about what we had and what we did to it."

Syed shakes his head slowly;

"You can't come here and do this. It's not right. I want to talk, I don't want…"

The words slip away, they are already known to both.

"I have to get back to work," he finds himself murmuring. "I have a client."

Christian just nods, all the things he wants to say wrapped on his tongue with all those he should. He stands in what is to him silence, the market and the others nothing as he watches the only one that matters walk away.