Chapter 14

The following afternoon

Christian looks at his watch as the doorbell goes; it is 12.30 exactly "Hi," he greets, his tone a little stiff.

"Hi," Syed responds with a hopeful smile.

"Drink?"

"Coffee, thanks."

Christian goes to boil the kettle.

"How was work?" Syed asks casually.

"Work was fine. Syed ..."

"I'm thinking of looking for a part-time job, I need to start earning again, I've lost so much time. Of course, I'll carry on working in the Argee Bhajee. I want to get my life back ..."

"Syed, I meant what I said last night. I understand now that there can be no way back for us. This guy obviously affected you deeply; he left a permanent mark on you. You fell hard ..."

"It wasn't like that ..."

"How am I to know how it was, if you won't tell me?"

"What difference can it make to talk about it now? It won't change what happened," Syed cries in a burst of frustration.

"Why did you ask me to come here today?" he adds tensely when Christian doesn't respond.

"I felt sorry for you."

"You're lying."

Christian doesn't react. He spoons coffee into the mugs, his back to Syed.

"My life is divided into two parts," Syed says huskily, "the years before I met you and everything since. I can't remember how it felt not to love you. If I had a wish, it would be for us to go back to the beginning when it was just you and me ..."

"... and Amira."

"It would be so different this time. I think I've ... matured ..."

"Hooking up with a psycho is real mature."

Ignoring his jibe, Syed pleads, "you must be able to see the difference between what we had then and the way things are now."

"Okay, you want to go back there, get your kit off and let's fuck," Christian suggests, his words dismissive, deliberately cruel. He forces himself to ignore the way Syed flinches, takes a nervous step back; the fear in his eyes.

"No, didn't think so. The truth is that you killed our relationship when you went off with Nazir. I can't feel anything for you now."

"Why are you being like this?" Syed whispers shakily.

"All I want from you is the truth about what happened."

"If you no longer love me, why would you care?"

"I don't care. All I feel is guilt."

"You've nothing to feel guilty about."

"I pushed you away, and towards him."

"It was my decision ..."

"I don't want to look back one day and wonder what made you do it, what was going through your mind, if there was anything I could have done differently. To use a cliche, I need closure before I can move on with my life without you."

"I see," Syed says faintly. "That's why you were searching for me with Tam; why you've been coming to the house, trying to get me to talk. You were only pretending to care." He says the last very quietly, almost inaudibly.

Christian doesn't confirm or deny his assumption.

Syed stands without saying anything further for as long as it takes the kettle to boil; he then walks slowly towards the sofa and sits down.

Christian arrives with a couple of mugs of coffee and sits next to him.

Syed takes a deep breath and slowly releases it.

"Dad introduced me to him," he begins without looking up, his voice flat. "He invited Nazir to the house for dinner one evening.

Before we'd spoken more than a few words, he was dropping hints, letting me know that he knew my history. It unnerved me. I felt an instant dislike of him. I determined never to see him again."

"What happened to change your mind?"

Mum offered my services as a guide to show him around."

"You could have refused?"

"It would have been rude, embarrassing for mum, dad ..."

"If you're not going to tell me the truth, there is no point in continuing ..."

"I was afraid to see him again, it was the last thing I wanted, but ..."

"... you had the hotspots for him."

Syed doesn't deny it.

"When you were alone, how did he behave?"

"He seemed intent on pointing out my failings. I ended up walking away. A day or two later he was back at mum's, being all charming to her; the two of them planning how he could help me be a success."

"What did this plan involve?"

"He was going to introduce me to some people with money to invest. He suggested we meet for a drink that evening so that he could brief me on what to say to impress.

I had decided not to go; sent him a text to say I'd changed my mind, but when I got back to the flat, you were angry about me being late; you told me you were going out with Roxy ..."

"So you had the excuse you needed.

Where did you go?" he adds when Syed doesn't comment.

"A club ... somewhere in the city."

"And?"

"We ended up kissing."

"Who made the first move?"

"It began as a misunderstanding on my part."

"I take it he didn't disappoint?"

"No. It was ... thrilling. I completely lost my head. If he hadn't pulled back ..." Syed hesitates, dismayed to hear his own words, as if he were discovering something for the first time. "I risked everything, once more, because of ... lust," he thinks despairingly. "Everyone suffered because I couldn't resist ..." Syed brings his hand up and lightly touches his forehead; it lingers for a moment. "I'm a bad person, I'm weak ...," the familiar self-criticism drifts over his thoughts. "Everyone would be better off ..."

"Syed?" Christian gently interrupts his painful introspection.

"What?" he asks faintly.

"You were kissing in the club."

"Yes," he nods. His eyes lower once more.

"He ... At one point, I think he tried to suffocate me."

"Seriously?"

"He had his arms around me, I had my mouth pressed against ... his neck." Syed lifts a hand to brush away an imaginary stay hair.

"What happened?"

"He pressed a hand against the back of my head, started to put pressure, pushing my face tight against his shoulder, so that I couldn't breathe. I started to struggle, but he wouldn't let go."

"How did you manage to stop him?" Christian asks evenly.

"I couldn't. He was so strong. Everything started to slip away, and I remember thinking, 'this is it'; and then, suddenly, he let go."

"Did you get angry, walk away?"

"No."

Christian sits quietly for a moment. "Were you turned on by it?"

"No."

"Syed?"

"I don't know."

"I need the truth."

"I didn't like him, I didn't trust him ... if he'd stayed away after that first evening. Why couldn't he have left me alone?" Syed cries despairingly, wiping away a stray tear.

"Syed ..."

"I wanted him, so desperately," he confesses in a wretched whisper. "It felt like ... the need to touch him; feel his hands on my body ... it was like a physical ache. I just .., it was constant. I could find no peace."

"Did you have sex that night?" Christian asks, his voice tight with pain.

Hearing it, Syed's head snaps up. "Christian, I'm so ..."

"Did you have sex with him that night?"

He shakes his head. "No."

"What stopped you?"

"He wanted to go back to his."

"And ..."

"Whilst we were waiting for the taxi, I changed my mind."

"Why?"

"I thought about you, and ..."

"And ..."

"... that I loved you."

"How can you say that?" Christian cries angrily.

Syed sits unmoving, his head bowed once more.

"What happened next?" he sighs.

"I went home to you. We made peace, temporarily, and had a night in."

"The night we watched the DVD?"

"Yes."

"We had sex that night; for the first time in ages, you were really up for it; you were thinking of him."

"No, I was thinking of the Christian I fell in love with, my superman," he admits huskily.

Christian smiles, as the memories flood back. "That kind of intensity, it can't last," he eventually points out. The thought crosses his mind that it is such a boring and unChristian (Clarke) thing to say.

"You're probably right," Syed says quietly.

"So, you went back to him again, after you saw me with the guy in the pub."

"Yes," he bleakly admits.

"You had another perfect excuse."

"Maybe."

"You went to his home; it was a risk."

"I was convinced by then that he was dangerous."

"You wanted him to take charge, to dominate you. Being afraid, it was all part of it."

Syed doesn't say anything, but a telling blush spreads across his cheeks.

"So, you had sex with him for the first time."

He nods.

"He didn't disappoint."

"I suppose not," Syed murmurs.

"And afterwards?"

"He fell asleep eventually, and I crept out of the house."

"And came home to me."

"I rushed to get back to the flat. I thought you would have stayed out all night with the guy from the pub. I thought I'd have time to shower and change."

"Cover up the bruises."

"It didn't occur to me that I might have any visible marks."

You were going to carry on as normal, pretend nothing had happened."

"If you were prepared to throw me out because I refused to adopt a child with you, there was no way you would ever forgive me for cheating."

"I suppose not," Christian unwillingly acknowledges.

"I thought that, with the way things were between us, if I refused to have sex with you for a few days, a week ..."

"Why would you refuse ... you no longer wanted me?"

"No, that could never happen," Syed automatically rejects the ridiculous notion.

"So, why?" Christian asks, confused. "Unless, ... did he hurt you?"

"No, it was nothing like that," Syed denies, but his voice wobbles and his head drops, his chin burrowing a little deeper into his chest.

"I'm so sorry," Christian whispers, his eyes filling with tears. He instinctively moves closer to Syed and puts his arms around him.

"It was no more than I deserved," Syed sobs against his shoulder.

After a little while, his tears subside and Christian lets him go.

"Syed, nobody deserves to be raped," he says firmly.

"He knew I wanted it; I was willing, eager, at first."

"Did you let him know you'd had enough, wanted to stop? Did you tell him you wanted to leave? Did you try to leave?"

"Yes," he whispers.

"If he prevented you from leaving, if he then forced himself on you, then it was rape," Christian insists, his voice now raw with pain. "It doesn't matter what happened earlier."

Neither speak for a little while.

"After, why would you be so desperate to return to the unhappy life you'd had with me?" Christian finally asks huskily.

"Because, I realised that even if I had to share you with Roxy and the odd random, it was better ..."

"... than being alone."

"... than being with anyone else."

"Maybe it's closer to the truth to say that you were ready to move on, that you'd wanted him so desperately ..."

"No."

"... and only came back to me because it felt safe, because you couldn't handle him."

"It was exciting, thrilling for a little while. But, as soon as we'd ... had sex ..., as soon as I ...," he stumbles.

"As soon as you climaxed, you couldn't wait to get out of there."

He nods, his cheeks reddening slightly. "Immediately after ..., I lost interest. I looked at him and saw only a man like any other man; not quite as sexy, not quite as mysterious, not quite as beautiful as I had thought him to be."

"I see," Christian says huskily, his emotions in that moment complicated to say the least.

"Being with me was no longer exciting, thrilling," he concludes after a long moment.

Syed doesn't comment.

"Has life with me really been so terrible these past couple of years?"

"Do you remember the last time we had sex in the middle of the day because we couldn't help ourselves, the last time you were sober during sex?"

"The night we watched the DVD."

"Doesn't count."

"Life gets in the way," he weakly tries to excuse.

"I suppose so," Syed says unconvincingly.

There is thoughtful silence.

"I remember, a few years ago, I went to a house party on New Year's Eve to chaperon Tam," Syed says quietly. "As the countdown to midnight began, I was alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, you appeared in the doorway. The look on your face, I will never forget - I knew in that moment there was nothing I could say or do to stop you doing whatever you wanted. It was so ... intense. You were so ..."

"Masterful?" Christian gently teases.

"Something like that," he smiles bashfully. "I forgot all about Amira and our wedding taking place the very next say, I forgot the risk you and I were taking in such a public place; none of it mattered when you looked at me that way."

"I remember," Christian smiles. "I was obsessed with you back then, I couldn't eat, sleep ..."

"Why did it have to change?"

"Over time, the passion, our feelings deepen into something richer, more meaningful ..."

"I sometimes think that what we have now is less meaningful," Syed says quietly.

"Would you like another drink?" Christian offers after lengthy silence.

Syed shrugs his shoulders.

"He's been so unhappy, all this time, and I never noticed," Christian thinks, as he looks down on the stooped figure sitting on the couch. "I used to be able to judge his mood by the colour of t-shirt he wore; to know how confident he was feeling by how tight it was."

Realising that he has been standing staring, he wipes away a few more tears and makes his way to the kitchen.

#

"Sorry it took so long, but I thought we could do with a few sandwiches," he announces on his return with the plate of food and a couple of mugs of tea.

"Thank you," Syed politely accepts the drink.

"Dig in before they go cold, as they say," he mumbles through a mouthful of chicken, tomato and crunchy baguette.

Syed obediently picks one up and takes a bite.

They eat in silence for a bit, and then Christian brings them to a place Syed would much prefer to never go back to.

"After I asked ... ordered you to leave, you went back to him."

Syed nods.

"What would have made you do something so reckless? "You knew him well enough by then ..."

"I no longer cared about what happened to me. I didn't want to have to think, about anything, make any decisions about how to face the future without you. I knew Nazir would take care of me for a while."

"Take care of you?" Christian asks incredulously.

"Maybe 'care' isn't the right word," Syed mumbles.

"There are so many ways he could have made your life hell. The few days you were trapped in that house could have turned into months, years.

What am I talking about, he was about to send you to your death.

Syed, you must have realised ..."

"I thought ..."

"What?" Christian prompts, when he remains silent.

"I believed that it was my fate to meet Nazir, that he'd been sent to punish me because I deserve to suffer, because I'm so ... wicked."

"What are you talking about? Why on earth would you think you're wicked?"

"It doesn't matter, forget I said anything," Syed starts to withdraw, his eyes stray towards the door.

"I'm sorry," Christian says regretfully. "Please don't stop now. Please Syed." He takes Syed's hands, strokes the soft skin. "You need to talk about this," he gently coaxes.

Syed looks into his eyes. He sees no judgement, no pity; he sees nothing but compassion.

"I've made so many mistakes over the years," he says unhappily, "I've hurt so many people ... mum, dad, Tam, Amira, you ..."

"That's all in the past, we've moved on ... there was no lasting damage ..."

"But ... it's not just that. I have these ... dark thoughts. I need ..." He hesitates, feeling awkward, embarrassed. He attempts to remove his hands, but Christian holds firm. "It's taken over my thoughts for months ... it's all I can think about ... the need to be controlled, to be dominated, to be ... hurt a little," he ends on a mortified whisper, his cheeks burning with shame.

"There's nothing wicked about that," Christian assures with an indulgent smile. "And to be fair, we were already headed down that road a couple of years ago. There was a lot of experimentation going on back then," he remembers with a fond smile.

"And then I moved in," Syed says quietly.

"Yea," Christian realises.

"I believe that Nazir was sent to punish me for my sins."

"Oh, Syed," Christian sighs. "What is it with religion and guilt?" he adds irritably, almost to himself. "Is that why you were so spooked by him when you first met? Is this the deep dark secret you sensed he'd picked up on?"

"We were around the table eating, drinking, chatting and he was sat in the middle of us; and I kept thinking, 'how can they not see the horns.' The reason was, of course, that he had only come for me."

"So, it wasn't God who was punishing you, it was the devil. Do you believe in the devil? I thought it was a catholic thing? I suppose that if you all believe in God, then it would be logical ... mind you, religion and logic; not really ..." he trails off.

"Syed," he gently prompts.

"Hmm," he murmurs vaguely, consumed by his troubled thoughts.

"Maybe Nazir did get a sense of something when you met, but you need to remember that he knew a lot about you in advance."

"I wish I could be satisfied with my lot, like everyone else."

"Your biggest problem is that the person you want to be is so far away from who you really are."

"I want to be a good person," Syed says quietly.

"You are a good person, who likes to be roughed up a little during sex. There is nothing wrong with that.

I think your God is a lot more broad-minded than you give Him credit for. Apart from the fact that He has seen Everything, including stuff a lot more shocking than anything you could dream up, He has a lot more to worry about than what two men get up to in the privacy of their bedroom (or a poorly-lit alleyway)."

"For as long as I can remember, I've prayed for relief from this sinful craving," Syed admits.

"Maybe God loves you just the way you are ...," Christian hesitates. "For the past few months, you've been complaining that I don't listen to you; is this what you've been trying to tell me?"

"I couldn't ..."

"Was that part of the reason you said you didn't want children? You needed my undivided attention?"

"I'm selfish ..."

"You're not; you just want me to yourself. Again, that's not wrong, it's just ... the way you feel." Christian is thoughtful for a moment. "That time, when we were talking about adopting. I said you were selfish, because you wouldn't agree with me ... so, you came back the next day and ... agreed with me. You didn't change your mind about adopting, did you? You said what you needed to, to get me back."

They are quiet once more, as Christian digests this little bit of information.

"You were jealous of Roxy, too, weren't you? She was taking me away from you."

"When we were seeing each other in secret, I never realised how much of your life you shared with her; but once I moved in ... Sometimes, I would walk out of the bedroom first thing in the morning and she would be there, sitting on the couch. I could feel her impatience for me to leave. She made me feel uncomfortable in my own home."

"You could have said something, made a joke ... You can't rely on others to always fight your battles for you." Christian is immediately struck by how harsh and unfair his words sound. "I would never have spoken to him like that a year, two years ago," he realises uneasily.

"Yea," Syed dully accepts his advice.

"On the other hand, you shouldn't be made to feel uncomfortable in your own home," he concedes, his tone gently caring. "It never crossed my mind that you weren't happy. I had everything the way I wanted it ..." he trails off once again, dismayed to realise his behaviour towards Syed during the past couple of years had at best been careless and at worst outright bullying. "I'm sorry," he says with a heavy heart.

"It wasn't all bad," Syed damns with faint praise.

"I've no excuse. I know you better than anyone. I know that you need a little coaxing to admit somethings wrong."

"What would you have done if I'd admitted I wasn't happy the way things were?"

"I don't know?"

"I think you would have said something along the lines of 'my way or the highway'," Syed says with a sad smile. "I should go," he adds, his tone resigned.

"Hold on, we're not finished," Christian stops him. "Tell me what happened when you got to the house."

"It's enough now, I'm tired," he pleads.

Christian reaches out a hand to gently cup his cheek, his thumb gently stroking the soft skin. "Please Sy, you need to tell me everything."

Syed looks into his eyes for a long moment. "Please forgive me," he pleads.

"Don't," Christian shakes his head, moving away.

"I can't lose you," Syed moans, his eyes filling with tears.

"I need you to tell me what happened when you and Nazir arrived at the house," Christian insists.

"Okay," he nods helplessly. He takes a deep breath, and then another.

"He took you to a house."

"Yes. He lived in West Hampstead, in what I would have called a nice area. I assumed he would bring me there; not because it was nice, that no longer mattered. The house he brought me to was very different; it was much smaller, situated in a densely populated, largely neglected area. When we entered, there were three other men in the house. Nazir spoke to them in Urdu. It obviously didn't occur to him that I would be fluent in the language; he probably thought I was too shallow to take an interest in learning it." Syed hesitates, this insult biting particularly deep.

"What did he say about you?" Christian gently prompts.

"It was a local Kar*achi saying, the equivalent of 'we've got the honey for the trap.' The other men laughed; their looks to me were a mixture of contempt and dislike. It was clear there was a plan they'd previously discussed and I was part of that plan.

I looked around me and realised I wasn't in a home, but in some sort of temporary meeting place. All the doubts I'd had about Nazir, all my fears, everything that had happened since we'd met ... I finally understood that I had let myself sleepwalk into a very dangerous situation and that I had to get out of there. Making some flimsy excuse, I headed for the door, and then everything went black. My next recollection is of waking up in a small bedroom. I was lying on a bed. My head was all muddled and I couldn't remember where I was or how I'd gotten there.

At first, I didn't realise I couldn't leave. Nazir told me I was ill and needed rest. Then, later, he told me I had no one to return to because you knew I'd had sex with him and didn't want me. It was after that he began to lock the door. I think there was also a listening device, which he would turn off when he didn't want to be heard."

"Did he physically torture you?"

"No."

"Did you have sex?"

He nods.

"Did he hurt you?"

He nods. "I told him I didn't want to, I tried to push him off, but he was too strong." Syed lifts a hand once more in an effort to cover his face.

Christian puts an arm around his shoulders and gently embraces him.

"When you said you didn't want to ..."

"He didn't care about that," Syed says, his voice choked with tears.

Christian holds him a little tighter.

"I sensed he was a bad person within moments of meeting him," Syed admits after a little while. "Why would I have been drawn to him of all people? I haven't looked at another man since the day I first laid eyes on you. It could be because Nazir bewitched me, or maybe God ..."

Christian smiles as he kisses the top of his head. "You were attracted to Nazir because I'd neglected you for too long. To be crude, you needed a good seeing to, and I wasn't doing my job."

"We have, had sex ..."

"But not the kind of sex you need."

"It doesn't always have to be ... like that."

"I know, but sometimes ...," Christian gently teases, kissing the side of his head.

They sit for ages saying nothing. It feels so good to hold and be held once again.

"Tel me what happened after he ... forced you," Christian reluctantly asks.

"One evening, one of the other men came into my room. I was terrified, thinking he was coming to hurt me. He forced me to swallow a couple of tablets and left again,

"Did he say anything?"

"He spoke with such urgency; but, I was so scared, I barely heard a word. He only stayed a few minutes," Syed concludes miserably.

"What did you do after he left?"

"Nothing, There was nothing I could do. I was so weak by that point, and so muddled." He shrugs hopelessly. "I lay on that bed, in that small room, absolutely convinced that I was going to die, that I'd been poisoned."

Christian gently rubs his back. He kisses the top of his head once more and his tears slide unchecked into Syed's hair

"After a while, I began to feel really ill. There were sounds coming from downstairs; music, loud voices. And then, suddenly, the door burst open and three or four of them came into the room. They started to rip off my clothes. They were screaming abuse at me. They pinned me down; I could do nothing to save myself. One of them demanded to be ... the first, I'll never forget ..." Syed starts to tremble, he cannot continue.

"Shush, it's okay," Christian assures, his voice choked with tears. "They can never again hurt you."

"No," Syed whispers.

"The guy ... the first ... He leaned over me; stuck a couple of his fingers into my mouth ... I didn't understand his intention ... I thought ... I didn't realise at the time ... He forced the fingers down my throat, and I was violently ill. They were all disgusted and rushed out of the room."

"Thank God for that man," Christian says feelingly.

"I don't think God had anything to do with it," Syed bleakly rejects the notion.

"Of course he did," Christian insists. "You prayed to him for help, and he answered your prayers; isn't that how it works?"

"I did pray, the whole time ... but he's stopped listening. I can tell when he's displeased with me. When I pray, it feels like I'm talking to myself."

"But don't you see, he did listen, he saved you."

"Don't mock me," Syed says unhappily. "I know you don't believe ..."

"What I believe doesn't matter. Let's look at the facts: there are thousands of people in the UK who are on terror watch lists, but the undercover agent just happened to turn up in the house where you were being held."

"The intelligence services were watching the house, they had lots of information; the police officer showed Afia and I passports, papers ..."

"And how often do hear after the event that the terror*ist had been known to the authorities, but they didn't have enough resources to monitor him adequately?"

"The undercover guy was at the house before I arrived."

"Your God is all knowing, all seeing, all powerful; and hasn't he been known to work in mysterious ways on occasion?"

"Don't mock my faith," Syed cries angrily, some of his old spirit returning; he tries to pull away.

"I'm really not," Christian gently assures. He loosens his hold but takes Syed's hands in a firm but gentle grip.

"Don't try to make light of my beliefs. You don't understand how I feel, how much it means to me ..."

"Okay, let me put it another way. A man who knows nothing about religion or science walks into this room, right this minute. You tell him God is a celestial being and that he created the whole world and everything in it, including human beings, in seven days. I tell him this world was created from the debris after two planets collided, and that, although there are thousands of planets in the solar system, our planet earth, that lowly bit of debris, is the only planet with signs of life. Which of these ideas do you think he will believe?"

"Neither," Syed smiles.

"Exactly. What I'm trying to say is that I may not buy into your version of events, but what do I really know for sure?"

"You think He answered my prayers?"

"I'm not saying I believe that God helped you, or even that there is a God. But, I do think it was some kind of miracle that you survived that ordeal; and the idea that someone, somewhere, was watching over you doesn't seem that far fetched when you think about how things could have ended."

"You've been reading about planets colliding?" Syed asks curiously.

"Knowledge is power," Christian solemnly assures.

Syed smiles.

"Sy," he says tentatively after a little while.

"Hmm."

"What happened after that they left you alone?"

"I don't remember very much. I've never in my life felt so ill. I was freezing cold, shivering ... At some point, Nazir came in; it was much later; the next day. He was talking to me ... He said ... I remember, he said I was of no use to anyone ... he put his arms around me. I was so scared. I didn't know what he was going to do. There was no hope ..." His tears begin to fall again, and Christian's arms slip around him once more and tighten protectively.

"You survived, you're here, safe. He lost in the end," he huskily reminds him.

"The next thing I remember, I was being carried into the bathroom to get cleaned up."

"Cleaned up?"

"I was covered in sick ..."

"From the night before? They left you in that state all night?"

"I couldn't have felt any worse ... It would have made little difference. I was so terrified ... if any of them had tried to help me ..."

"Oh Syed," Christian says mournfully.

Syed burrows deeper into his embrace. "The last memory I have; I was sitting in the corner of the bathroom, and the man who gave me the tablets the night before was walking towards me with a gun in his hand. I didn't realise then that he was trying to help me. I tried to get up, to defend myself, but I couldn't get my legs under me. Then, there was banging on the bathroom door and Nazir was screaming that he would torture me ... us, kill us. I must have lost consciousness, because the next thing I knew, I was lying in a hospital bed."

Christian strokes his hair with the gentlest off touches, the movement soothing him almost as much as it does Syed. They sit holding each other for a very long time. Eventually, Christian raises his head from Syed's shoulder and notes with surprise that it is dark outside.

"Sy," he says softly, gently releasing him. "It's getting late, Zainab, Masood, Tam; they'll be wondering where you are. You should phone someone."

"Mm," he mumbles lifting his head and looking around in confusion. He rubs a hand over his eyes and searches for his phone. "Two missed calls from mum, one each from Tam and dad." He returns his mum's call. "Hi, I'm fine. No, I'm at Christian's, we lost track of time. No, ... we were talking. We're not ... we agreed ..." he glances quickly in Christian's direction, his face reddening slightly. "Okay, I have to go ... mum, Mum." He listens for a patient few moments. "Okay, bye." He hangs up.

"Everything okay at home?"

"Yea, they were panicking a little, I suppose it's understandable."

"How are you doing?" Christian gently probes.

"Okay," he says evasively.

"Has it helped to talk about it?"

"A bit."

"But ..."

He shrugs.

"What's on your mind?"

"I can see now how many times I had the chance to pull back, to avoid all of it, or at least most ..." He sighs. "I behaved recklessly. I never once thought of Yas."

"Maybe you need to remind yourself that it's not always about you," Christian is slightly surprised to hear himself say.

"Yea," he miserably agrees.

They sit without speaking for a while, each preoccupied, unable to find the words to bridge the gap.

"I should go home, I told mum I was on my way," Syed says eventually, his tone as polite and flat as it could possibly be.

Christian nods.

Syed gets up, walks to the door and leaves without looking back.