Chapter 6

"Syed, hi," Nazir greets, surprised to find him on the doorstep.

"Can I come in?" Syed meekly requests.

"Of course." He gestures for him to enter and precede him down a narrow hallway and into a large bright sitting room.

Syed stands just inside the door, looking around the richly furnished room.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thank you," he politely refuses.

Nazir leaves the drinks and walks over to him. He slips his arms around Syed's waist and kisses him deeply. "Come upstairs," he says huskily.

"Okay," Syed agrees, his tone flat. His heart feels so heavy he can hardly bare it.

Nazir doesn't ask about what might be bothering him; he has only one thought in his head right now, and it is definitely not that they should have a conversation. He walks off, expecting Syed to follow.

"His bedroom may be richly furnished, but Syed doesn't get the chance to find out. Before he is fully inside the door, Nazir has a hold of him, has him face down on the bed and is impatiently removing any clothing that will come off easily and ripping off the rest.

Syed lies motionless, letting him do what he will.

Nazir abruptly grabs his arm and flips him onto his back. In the same movement, he slaps him hard across the face. "Look at me," he orders.

Syed puts a hand up to his cheek, his eyes filling with tears.

"I said, look at me," he barks, gripping his jaw and forcing him to meet his burning gaze. "You knew what would happen if you came here."

Syed nods obediently.

"If I wanted a rag doll, I would have ordered one online, do you understand?"

"Yes," he says huskily.

Releasing his grip, Nazir's hand moves to gently stroke the red mark on Syed's cheek. He then slides it over his mouth and slips his middle and fore fingers inside, stroking them in and out a few of times to moisten. He slips the same two fingers between Syed's legs, and lowers his head to take him into his mouth.

Syed draws a harsh breath at the unexpected assault on his body, and is soon lost in a world where only sensations matter.

#

Early the next morning, as soon as he is sure that Nazir has finally fallen asleep, Syed creeps away.

#

"Hi," he says apprehensively, when he walks in the door of the flat to find Christian sitting on the couch waiting for him, looking very angry.

"One more night, once more the absent boyfriend; where were you this time? And don't say it was back at home, because I checked."

"I'm going to have shower," Syed responds, a slight tremor in his voice. He makes a move towards the bathroom.

"Has something happened, have you been attacked?" Christian asks anxiously.

"No ..."

"How did you get the cut lip? Where did the bruises on your neck come from?" he demands, getting up and walking quickly towards him.

"I need to have a shower," Syed insists, nervously backing away.

Christian grabs his arm to prevent his escape, causing him to wince in pain. "Syed, tell me what happened," he demands, his voice rising in concern. He pulls open his jacket, sliding it down Syed's arms, and sees the scratches, more bruising, the torn shirt ... "Sy?" he begins fearfully, gently cupping his cheek, looking deep into his eyes. And then ... "Whose aftershave is that?" he asks, his face blanching.

"I stayed at ... in the restaurant."

"Were you attacked or ... raped by some guy?" he asks shakily, a look of horror on his face. "We need to get you to a doctor, call the police ..."

"No, I'm fine. I wasn't raped," Syed cries desperately as he watches him search for his phone.

"So, what happened? Who did this to you?"

Syed helplessly shakes his head. "It was a mistake," he whispers.

"You were willing?" Christian asks faintly.

"No, I ... it was ... just a kiss."

Christian moves closer, his eyes carefully examining Syed's mouth; his overly red, slightly swollen lips ... He abruptly reaches around to grab him by the back of the neck, his hand burying itself in his hair, pulling it roughly, forcing his head to tilt backwards. There is no passion in the kiss. His tongue forces its way in, and he can taste him ...

"You let some guy stick his dick in your mouth, you let him shag you, because we had an argument?" he cries hoarsely, pushing Syed away in disgust.

"Please ..."

"Have your shower, pack your bags and get out," he coldly interrupts. Pushing past Syed, he walks out the door, banging it behind him.

"Syed's tears are washed away by the spray from the shower. He gets dressed, gathers his things together and leaves the flat.

#

He went off with some guy," Christian moans against Roxy's shoulder. We had an argument, and he did that," he cries in disbelief. "Why do I put up with it, the way he treats me?"

"How many times have I told you that he doesn't deserve you?" she reminds him. "He's never really known what he wanted; it's time to forget about him, babe."

"It's really over this time," Christian assures her tearfully.

"Tonight, you're coming out with me; we're going to get very drunk, and find us a couple of hot guys."

"Yea," Christian agrees, but for the first time in his life, he doesn't think drinking and shagging are going to be able to dull the pain. The thought of Syed with another guy hurts more and more the more he thinks about it.

An energetic bout of clubbing and a couple of bottles of wine later, and Christian is feeling no better. "Let's get out of here," he pleads.

Roxy opens her mouth to protest, but changes her mind when she sees the tears in his eyes. "I'm right behind you," she slurs, turning on her heal and lurching unsteadily towards the exit. Christian follows, with less enthusiasm.

He can't bear the thought of going back to an empty flat, so they both end up in the Vic.

"We've argued before; I've said some really vicious things to him, but he's never done anything like this. So why now?" he cries, shaking his head dejectedly.

"He's always been unpredictable," Roxy points out.

"No, no more alcohol, it's doing nothing for me tonight," Christian pleads, as she approaches with a bottle of vodka nicked from downstairs and a couple of glasses.

"Syed's an idiot; you don't need him," she insists, dropping down next to him. "He's a total git. I don't know what you ever saw in him."

"Don't Rox," he murmurs. "Don't slag him off like that."

"Christian, babe, you've been doing nothing but moaning about him for months," she reminds him, as she leans too far forward to pour herself a generous measure and almost falls off the couch.

"I'm going to go, I think I need to be on my own for a bit," Christian says despondently. He attempts to get up, but she pulls him back down.

"Listen," she says patiently, holding his face between her hands. "You're so much better off without him. Now you won't have to resist all those cute guys we see when we're out. You're free," she cries, extending her arms dramatically, and spilling her drink as she does so.

"I don't want to be free," he moans, his eyes filling with tears once more.

"Of course you do. Remember that gorgeous guy in the Vic the other day, yesterday, James or John or whatever; he was a right laugh, the guy with the sports car."

"He didn't have a sports car," Christian sighs, "and he was full of shit."

"What, no way, you were totally into him, flirting your arse off. I could see it, Syed could see it, and he was all the way over at the door."

"What?" Christian asks, his eyes widening in surprise. "Sy saw us?"

"Um, maybe. I thought I saw him walk in, but then he turned and walked back out; maybe it was someone else," she finishes lamely.

"Why didn't you say something?"

"It wasn't him, I only thought for a moment; no, it wasn't him," Roxy tries to backtrack, sensing, even in her drunken haze that she's in trouble.

"You let him leave, knowing what he was thinking; knowing he was probably upset," Christian responds, his voice raising in anger.

"Babe, seriously, you need to admit to yourself that you're no longer in love with him. It's been obvious for months that you're bored with him, with the whole cozy domestic scene, the kid, all of it. The spark has gone. Admit it," Roxy cries dramatically, grabbing his face between her hands once more and looking deep into his eyes, as if she might at any moment attempt an exorcism.

"You don't have a fucking clue, Rox," Christian barks, pushing her away and jumping up. "I can't believe you didn't at least tell me he'd seen us."

"You were having a laugh with James or John or ..."

"I was mucking about; it was nothing more than that. I was still upset over the argument I'd had with Sy earlier; you heard me give him the brush off."

"Yea, but only because you were feeling guilty. Christian, babe ..." She reaches out to grab his arm to pull him back down onto the couch, but he backs away and out of reach. "Christian, babe, are you telling me that if you weren't with Syed, you wouldn't go there?"

"But I am with Sy, and I love Sy; and now I've lost him because you let him believe I was hooking up with another guy."

"Well, technically, that's your own fault, Christian, babe."

"Will you stop calling me ...," Christian begins frustratedly, but she interrupts.

"In the past, Christian ... babe, you've gone off with guys so many times to make him jealous, that he probably feels he can no longer trust you." At this point, she tries to get up, but loses her balance and falls over.

"Rox," he barks, impatiently yanking her off the floor and dumping her onto the couch, "I only went with other guys when we were on a break." This defence sounds feeble (and vaguely familiar) even to his own ears.

"But every time you do it, he probably feels more insecure."

"Maybe," Christian says thoughtfully. "We've never really talked about that side of things. We patch things up and put our problems behind us."

"Are you sure about that? Remember how insecure you were about Amira, even though you knew Syed was gay. So can you imagine how seeing you with other guys effects him?"

"But they don't mean anything, they never have; he's the only person who has ever meant anything to me. I love him so much, and I can't bear the thought of ... of ..." Christian breaks off as his emotions overcome him once more.

"Christian, babe, you're upset right now; but when you have time to reflect, you'll realise that you're well rid."

"You really don't like him, do you?" he says huskily.

"I need another drink. Lets get another bottle from downstairs."

"Rox."

"No, I don't like him, I only put up with him because of you. I'll be so relieved when you finally bin him for good."

"Why do you assume we're not permanent?"

"It might have something to do with the way you slag him off all the time? Christian, Chris, babe, hon, Syed's just a phase, a very long phase admittedly, but you'll see sense eventually and move on."

"No, I won't; he's not a phase, he's the most important person in my life."

"Since when?"

"You really have such a poor opinion of our relationship."

"Yea, and I got it from the horse's mouth."

"That's why Syed doesn't like you; he knows how you feel about him; you don't give him the respect you should give my boyfriend. You treat him like some cheap fuck, who isn't worth being nice to because he won't be around for long; and you get that impression from me."

"You don't really love him; you have nothing in common; he's not even your type."

"But I do love him, and I need to see him," Christian realises. "I need to give him a chance to explain why he cheated."

"Christian," Roxy cries frustratedly, as he rushes out the door.

#

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Zainab shouts angrily as she marches down the stairs, but the banging doesn't cease until she opens the front door. "This better be good," she warns.

"I need to speak to Syed," Christian demands, "and I'm not moving until you let me see him."

"Syed? What are you talking about?"

"I know he's here."

"But he's with you?"

"No, he's been here since yesterday."

"We haven't seen him since the day before yesterday."

"What's going on?" Masood mumbles sleepily, appearing at his wife's shoulder.

"Christian's looking for Syed," Zainab explains. "When did you last see him?"

"Yesterday morning, we argued and I threw him out," Christian admits.

"I saw Syed around lunchtime; he was with Nazir, they were driving off somewhere," Tamwar reveals, coming down the stairs.

"You know this guy?" Christian asks incredulously.

"He's a friend from Mosq*ue," Masood explains.

"Oh, so you figured that if you couldn't persuade your precious son to be with a Mu*lim woman, then you'd throw a M*slim guy at him to see if that would stick," Christian bitterly accuses. "Because anything is better than ..."

"They're not ... together," Zainab cries horrified. "Not that there's anything wrong ...," she tries to modify her response, but there is no need to, as Christian is too stressed to notice her faux paux.

"Why do you think I threw him out?" he shouts.

"Okay, everybody calm down, we don't know anything for sure," Masood tries to reason. "Let me ring him. There could be a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"There's no point, I've had his number on redial for the past 15 minutes."

"Wherever he is, maybe he's asleep; after all it is the middle of the night," Zainab points out sarcastically.

Masood dials Syed's mobile, and after a couple of rings, there is an answer. "Syed, hi, where are you? Christian ..." He pauses, listening. "Nazir, what are you doing with Syed's phone?"

"After a moment, he hangs up, looking worried.

"What? What is it Mas? What did Nazir say?" Zainab anxiously demands.

"He said, 'an eye for an eye'."

"No," Afia breathes, and they all turn to see her standing at the top of the stairs looking as if she might fall in a faint at any moment.

"Afia, are you okay?" Tamwar asks, surprised.

"It wasn't meant to be Syed," she whispers, her eyes filling with tears.

Now she has everyone's undivided attention.

"What are you talking about?" Zainab demands fearfully.

Afia simply stares at them in horror, unable to speak, unable to move.

"Afia," she screams, running up the stairs to grab her by both arms and shake her, before anyone else can react. "Tell me, tell me what you've done."

"Mum, stop it," Tamwar orders, trying to prize her away.

"It was supposed to be you," Afia shakily confesses.

"What are you talking about? What did you do to my precious boy?" Zainab cries, and when Afia doesn't immediately speak, she slaps her hard across the cheek.

Afia blinks a couple of times. "You killed my father," she shouts at her mother-in-law. "You killed him," she screams, her face screwed up with hatred. "Did you really think I could just forgive you for that; put it behind me as if it didn't matter?"

"What? You hired some guy ...?" Christian's voice trails away, because he can't quite grasp what's happening.

"Zee, go into the kitchen and make some tea," Masood calmly requests, putting his hand on her arm.

"Tea?" she cries incredulously, turning to look at him in amazement. "You've lived way too long in this country, it you think a cup of tea will fix ..."

"Please, let me talk to Afia," he pleads, raising a hand to silence the accusation and panic ready to burst forth from her; and for once, his wife seems to sense how important it is for her to control her natural instinct to scream the place down.

"Christian," Masood motions for him to take her away.

"Is he in danger?" he weakly pleads.

"I think so," is Masood's gravely honest response.