Syed suddenly pulled away, his face twisted with disbelief and horror. He turned to flee, but Farhan caught his arm and spun him around.
"Syed, don't run away. Please. I like you; I've never had a boyfriend, I've hardly done anything. This meant something to me. Please."
Syed felt dizzy all of a sudden, as if the world was spinning him off, depositing him elsewhere. Who was he? What was he doing here? And why did he do what he did? Images of a pain-ridden 2010 tumbled around inside his head: the kiss in the kitchen, that heart-wrenching conversation in the cafe, his wedding, his rejection of Christian, all that he had put him through, a year full of heartache and heartbreak, but leading always and ever back to him, to Christian. And yet, here he was, a year after he finally owned up and claimed the other 3 words Christian had most wanted to hear: 'I am gay', sharing with some other man what belonged to Christian alone.
He looked at Farhan again, and realized he was hurting him too now.
"I am...so, so, sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm..." Syed stuttered incoherently as his eyes welled up with tears.
"Syed, please stop crying. Just speak to me."
"I love him; Christian. I've put him through so much this past year. I, I can't do this, Farhan, I just can't. Please. I don't want to run from you – I've done that in the past, too. But I just can't..."
His voice trailed off, and he shook his head in disgust.
"What kind of a person am I?"
Farhan regarded him for a moment, then reached out and stroked his arm.
"You're a wonderful person. But Syed, this must mean something, or you wouldn't be here with me. You know that. In your heart, you know that."
Syed shuddered, shook his head sadly. He was tired, weighed down with guilt and grief, and needed to go. There was too much to consider, and he couldn't do that here, now, with Farhan.
"I have to go now. Please let me go."
Farhan took a piece of paper from his pocket, wrote something on it, and handed it to Syed.
"This is my mobile number. Let me know how you are?"
"Okay." He took the number, wrapped it up slowly into a tiny wedge, and stuffed it deep into his pocket. If only he could bury the kiss and his turmoil over it by wrapping it around and around until it was a small insignificant jot.
"Femanallah, Syed."
"Femanallah, Farhan."
