Chapter 17

Christian gets there first. "Leave this to me. Go back to the house. I'll call you," he orders, glancing quickly over his shoulder at the others. He positions his body to block their view.

Syed is leaning against the side of the building, his head slightly to one side, his chin almost touching his chest. His shirt is undone, and his companion is impatiently undoing his jeans.

Christian rushes forward, grabs the guy and drags him away.

"What the fuck?" he cries.

"Get lost," Christian warns.

Giving him a quick once over, Syed's new friend makes a judgement call and walks away.

"Sy," Christian says tentatively, gently lifting his head to look into his bloodshot eyes. "Babe, are you okay?"

"Clarkey," he mumbles, "just thinking 'bout you."

"Let's get you home," Christian decides, slipping his arm around Syed's waist to support him.

"Noooooo, not going home," he shakes his head as he slides along the wall and away from Christian.

"Syed, come on," he pleads, reaching out a hand to grab his arm and prevent him going any further.

"No, not coming." Syed shakes his head, again. "Going, going, gone, that's me." He waves an arm vaguely over his shoulder to emphasise his point.

"Syed," Christian barks impatiently, as he automatically does up the buttons on his shirt.

"Don't you shout at me," Syed cries, waving a finger angrily at him. "You didn't want me, remember. This morning you said ... something; I can't exactly remember now, but it was hurtful ..."

"I didn't mean ..."

"... and mean."

"We'll talk about this at home."

"No, not ... didn't I just say ...?" Syed, at this point notices the broken vodka bottle and it's precious liquid wetting the pavement. "Ah, how did that happen?" He murmurs regretfully.

"Where did you buy it?"

"The off licence on the corner."

"You've just come out of a pub?"

"To drink on the train," Syed explains, in a tone that suggests that this should have been obvious to anyone who knew anything about the social niceties of alcohol consumption. "I have to go back in there," he decides, searching through his pockets to see if he has enough for another bottle."

"You don't need any more alcohol."

"Syed looks up at him through a drunken haze. "Have you got a £50 on you? I'll do anything you want," he promises huskily, his eyes darkening seductively. He begins to lean towards Christian. His hands roughly cup his face, and he determinedly leans in for a kiss. Christian turns his head away. "Come on, Clarkey; anything you want, for £40."

"Syed, don't," he pleads.

"Okay, £30," he coaxes.

"What happened to the £100 Billy gave you earlier?"

"Um ..., well, I'm not really sure." Syed abruptly parks the attempted seduction and goes back to searching the same pockets he'd tried earlier. "I think the barman or maybe the off licence guy gave me the wrong change, or no change. I'm not really ..."

"You really should not drink alone," Christian mutters.

After a fruitless search, Syed turns his attention back to Christian. "So, do ya fancy it?" he tried once more, with a look that is a little too intense and smile which is, admittedly, irresistibly sexy. "Come on, for old times' sake."

"That guy just now, was he paying for it?"

"No, of course not, how dare you ..."

"What am I supposed to think when you act like this?"

Syed looks deep into his eyes for a moment, an honest look, and Christian can see how much he is hurting. "Tell me why you're doing this," he gently coaxes. "Getting drunk, picking up random guys, this is not you."

"I've never charged for it," Syed earnestly insists, shaking his head in a childlike gesture. "Although, sex without emotion, does it really matter if money is exchanged?"

"Babe, it makes all the difference in the world." He takes Syed's face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking his cheeks to try to ease the painful expression. "We were so worried ..."

"I haven't taken anything," Syed solemnly promises.

"We were worried about you."

"I'll be fine. I'll go ..." He thinks for a moment. "There's a train to Leeds, and it's leaving at ... soon ... Earlier, I checked the times ..." He searches for his phone.

"You sold your phone to Billy," Christian reminds him.

"Oh," he muses thoughtfully.

"What about Yasmin, your family, your stall?"

"I don't know," he shrugs his shoulders in a helpless gesture.

"You haven't really thought this through, have you?"

Syed shakes his head. "I wanted to forget about you, about everything. Kim wouldn't sell me any alcohol, so I came here. That guy; he started chatting, buying me drinks. He was soon touching me, kissing me. I didn't care, nothing mattered. He wanted us to go out back. He was pulling me in the direction of the door; and then I noticed a few other men drinking nearby; they were watching. As we made eye contact, one of them licked his lips, another put his hand between his legs and started touching himself. They were looking at me the way those other guys looked at me that night, and I began to feel afraid, terrified. I pulled my arm out of the guy's grip and ran."

"Syed," Christian draws a deep sigh. "How did you end up back here?"

"After I left the bar, I went to the off licence. After ... I was planning to go to the train station, but took a wrong turn and ended up back at the bar. I was feeling a bit dizzy; thinking about finding somewhere to sit down. And then, he was behind me, grabbing my arm, dragging me in here. I tried to push him away, but I couldn't get my hands to work properly ... And then I understood everything ... My eyes …"

"What did you understand?"

"He was sent to kill me. Nazir kept his promise. It was almost a relief to be able to finally face my fate. No more looking over my shoulder; wondering each day if this would be the day ... My eyes …"

"Syed, all that guy wanted was sex. He got you drunk so that he could take advantage. Nazir had nothing ..."

"My eyes felt so heavy, I let them close. And then, I could see you, just ahead of me; you were smiling, you had your arms outstretched, beckoning me. You were telling me everything was going to be okay and that you loved me. I wanted more than anything to go to you, to feel the warmth of your embrace, it's been so long ..."

"I'm so sorry," Christian cries, his voice choked with tears. He pulls Syed into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry about Roxy dying," Syed mumbles against his shoulder.

"Christian begins to smile. "I shouldn't have blamed you ..."

"I never liked her, but I didn't want her to die."

"Okay, I guess," Christian responds with a rueful smile. He slides his fingers through Syed's hair in a soothing gesture. "You're a magnet for trouble," he quietly concludes.

After a little while, Christian gently releases him.

"Let's go home."

"I can't go back."

"Why not? You've been doing so well, with the stall, getting your life back on track."

"I had hope. I thought, 'one day, he'll forgive me,' I waited every day for you to miss me, to come and find me, but you never did. Then, yesterday, you seemed angry to see me talking to that woman. I thought to myself, 'he's beginning to feel something other than grief, he still cares.' When I got your text this morning, I thought you needed an excuse to see me. I was so excited; I rushed out the door, without my jacket, which had my wallet in it ..."

"Syed, I did want to see you."

"I knew you would be angry with me, but I thought, 'at least we'll be in the same room and talking.' I soon realised that you didn't want to talk, you wanted rid of every trace of me. I realised this morning exactly what you now feel for me. You hate me; worse than that, you feel nothing for me anymore. You looked at me this morning as if I might have some disease you were afraid of catching."

"Babe, I could never hate you," Christian says huskily. He takes out a tissue and wipes away Syed's tears. "I was angry, jealous, hurt, to see you with that woman."

"So, why were you so horrible to me?" Syed asks in a choked voice.

"Because I was angry, jealous, hurt."

"Your words broke my heart," he sobs. "I could no longer have any hope for us."

"No matter what happens, there will never come a time when there is no hope for us."

They look into each other's eyes for a long moment, Syed feels himself start to weaken. "No, I can't take anymore, it's too painful," he cries, backing away.

"It won't be painful, ever again, I promise," Christian pleads.

"I have a headache. I need more alcohol," Syed abruptly decides. "So, if you won't have sex with me for ... £25? Will you go back to the house, sneak up into my bedroom and bring me my wallet? You can pretend you need to use the bathroom ..."

"I won't let you leave. I love you and I need you."

Despite Syed's best efforts, he begins to feel hopeful. "Enough," he cries, "not another word. I'm not going back. So, you either, um ... fuck me, right here right now for £50, or you, um ... fuck off," he shouts, his words intentionally brutal, the curse sounding unnatural on his lips. And, at that very moment, over Christian's shoulder, he sees his family still standing at the entrance to the alleyway.

"No," he whispers, "no, no, no," he moans.

"Shush, you're not thinking straight right now. Come home with me. If you still want to leave in the morning ..."

"Syed," Masood says, his voice a mere thread.

"Masood," Christian cries, looking over his shoulder at the three shocked faces. "I told you to go home. Please just leave this to me."

Masood takes a few steps.

Syed abruptly pulls away and begins to turn; to disappear into the darkness, but Christian manages to grab his shirt and Masood his arm before he can escape.

"It really is okay," his father gently assures with a warm smile.

Syed shakes his head. "No," he whispers, tears running down his cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

"You've nothing to be sorry for."

"Dad," he moans.

"Honestly, I said something similar to your mother just the other night. Where do you think I got the money to buy the new toaster and matching kettle?"

His gentle teasing is more than Syed can bear. "It's no good," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion. "I've tried living at street level, I really have, but it almost destroyed everyone I care about. "This is my level," he gestures to the dingy alleyway around him. I can't hurt anyone here, and no one can hurt me. But I will always remember the day I rode around the Square on a white horse, with you all looking on so proudly." He attempts a weak smile, which doesn't quite come off. "I have to go, it's best for everyone …"

"I remember that day; the day the Masoods took over the Square." Masood admits huskily.

"It was based on lies, my lies."

"We had a great day, one of the best."

"I'm so sorry." Syed attempts to have the final word, to pull away, but Masood won't let go. He forces his son into a hug, holding him tightly.

"I love you, we all love you, son," he assures, his voice hoarse with tears.

"Please let me go," Syed cries, his words muffled against Masood's shoulder. "You were all happy before I returned. You're better off without me. I'm of no use to anyone."

"You need us and we need you," Masood says tearfully.

"All I ever wanted was to prove to you that I'm worthy of being your son," he cries, his emotions spilling over as he clings to his father.

"That's what you've been trying to do all this time, really?"

"Mas," Zainab barks.

"I'm teasing," he says affectionately, kissing Syed on the forehead.

"So, are we going home?" Christian asks hopefully.

Syed looks up warily, his eyes swollen from crying. "Do you want me to stay?" he whispers.

"I want you to stay more than anything I've ever wanted in my life," Christian says huskily.

"What you said this morning ... it was true. I'm of no use ... I'm damaged ..."

"I didn't mean a word of it, I promise you from the bottom of my heart."

"Okay, can we go now?" Zainab asks in a tight voice, "before anyone sees us skulking here in this filthy place."

They all look to Syed, and he nods in agreement; his emotions too full to speak.