Here you go, last bit. Sorry it was a bit angsty. Hope you enjoyed it and many thanks for all your reviews. In the words of the 'real' Syed Masood "I love you for it." :) xxxx
"But you do."
The sycamore tree outside the window moved in the breeze,it's leaves dappling the light across the bare room. Syed dropped the brochure onto the floor.
"Yes."
Christian put his hands together, brought them up to his mouth.
"Explain to me."
Syed took a step backwards, slumped against the wall and slid down it, sitting crumpled on the floor. Christian did not act on the unbidden twitch of impulse that rushed through his body, a reflex to cross to him and give comfort. Held himself still, controlled, waiting.
"In Islam, a man cannot love another man the way I love you. It's Haraam, forbidden."
Christian breathed in sharply.
"But you do love me."
Syed nodded.
"And you are a Muslim."
Syed began to cry.
"And in my heart I know it can't be wrong. Now, since I met you. Feeling this way, why would I be punished for loving? But my family will never, ever understand. They cast me out once, I worked so hard for them to accept me again…"
"And what did they do Sy? To deserve you? What compromises did they make? Did they sacrifice the core of their being to make you happy? I love you Sy. Don't let them destroy you. Be with me."
Christian crossed the room in three strides, kneeling beside Syed, stroking his hair as he wept into his shoulder.
They sat side by side on the wooden floorboards as the shadows lengthened across the room.
"Do you want me to tell them?"
Syed laughed.
"Oh yeah , that'll go down well. A great big hunk of muscle rings on their doorbell and announces himself as my boyfriend. 'Hi Mr and Mrs Masood, I'm Christian, just popping by to let you know that your son's gay and that I love him in ways you could not possibly begin to imagine.' My mother would implode."
Christian kissed his cheek.
"You've got a point. I'll come with you though, wait outside, in case I need to rush in and save you. Where shall we live? Shall we buy this place?"
Syed picked up the discarded brochure.
"Have we got a spare two million pounds? Six bedrooms, views over the square, solid oak reclaimed flooring throughout."
Christian shifted uncomfortably.
"I've got splinters of it in my arse. Your place or mine?"
Syed linked his fingers through his.
"Yours. You've got neighbours, people talk to each other, my place you're lucky if you see anyone, and if you do they're always jogging. Plus you've got a little shop!"
Christian lifted their joined hands and lay them against his cheek.
"Minute Mart." He murmured. "Everyone will know our business. There'll be whispering."
"Good, let them. I don't want to hide anymore." Syed stood and pulled Christian up to join him, wrapping his arms around his neck.
Christian rubbed his hands up Syed's back, under his shirt, against his skin.
"Come on then handsome, I hope you realise what you're letting yourself in for."
Syed looked up at him, eyes bright with happiness.
"You and me. Forever."
