Title: Magic Mirrors
Author: MercuryPheonix (Your Angel of Music)
Fandom: EastEnders
Warnings: Some violent imagery, some sexual references
Spoilers: Begins in the period following Tamwar and Afia's wedding (early July, 2011).
Summary: In the midst of a turbulent period in Christian and Syed's relationship, a mysterious figure from Christian's past emerges with a revelation that rocks him to the core. In a world of uncertainly, there is only one thing that can be guaranteed: the couple's lives will never be the same again.
A/N: This chapter was a key one, because the previous five have been mainly about setting up the situation that will dominate this fiction. From this point onwards, things will move a little faster - time will be spread out a little further, without such miniscule detail on one day (although this chapter is set the morning after Chapter 5). Huge thanks to lady in waiting for being my marvellous beta, and a huge thanks to everyone who has commented. A special shout out to everyone over in Chryedville who were so supportive during my moment of insecurity regarding this fiction. I love you all!
'Family faces are magic mirrors. Looking at people who belong to us, we see the past, present, and future.'
~Gail Lumet Buckley
x
Chapter 6
x
The first thing that Syed noticed, as he began the sluggish journey to wakefulness, was the warm arm wrapped tightly around his waist.
He shuffled slightly, a misty grogginess lingering around him as he turned instinctively towards the heat. The gentle thump-a-thump of a steady heartbeat thrummed through his ears as he burrowed closer, his arms circling the flesh that was like familiar furnace against his skin. It was so comforting, so natural; as though he was following the most organic of instincts, instincts set down right at the beginning of human evolution.
A tiny smile spread across his face. Christian's body was like a comfort blanket wrapped around him; the soft textures of his skin, the familiar scent rising from his flesh, they all served to send a wave of contentment through Syed's heart.
It was like he could forget everything that was going on in their lives. As though the reassuring cadence of Christian's heart against his cheek was enough to chase away the demons that had come stalking back into their lives.
It was just as it had been so many months ago; when they were treading carefully around the shards of betrayal and deception that had littered their lives. This bed, this tiny corner of heat and passion and contentment, had been the bubble in which they had lived the happy fantasy. The cranny in which they burrowed deeply, blocking out everything else and focusing on the here and now, the two of them fused together for a few brief, frantic, gorgeous moments.
Syed burrowed closer, squeezing his eyes closed as his head moved with the rise-fall motion of Christian's chest; pressing his lips against the flesh, moving his fingers in tiny circles, hoping, begging, praying as he willed the silence to continue.
He imagined, briefly, that this must have been the unreadable emotion pouring from Christian's eyes every morning during those months of deception. This must have been how the man he loved felt as those nights of truth gave way to the dishonesty of daylight.
He'd never hated the prospect of the rising sun more than he did in this moment.
Syed wanted to preserve this forever – to time-lock them in this moment, so that nothing could ever reach them again.
A sudden noise filled the air, splitting the calm that Syed had been clinging onto with every fibre of his soul. Christian jerked as the heavy thump-a-thump ricocheted through the tiny flat, drowning out the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat against Syed's skin. The screeching of guitars bled outwards from the kitchen, forcing them both out of the peaceful recesses of sleep and into a sudden, almost panicked wakefulness.
As awareness grabbed hold of him with a clawed fist. Syed met Christian's eyes; the tension between them was palpable as the noises in the kitchen continued. The secrets and friction of the night before descended upon them like a heavy load; the pained silence of the meal, the quietly humming, evasive stranger on the couch, the meaningless, stupid words that had passed between them before they'd curled onto their opposite sides of the bed.
The bubble had been popped.
They dropped their gazes simultaneously, sliding out from under the covers and beginning their morning routines – separately, without the gentle, natural banter that would usually fill the air before they went off on their paths for the day.
As Syed took his turn in the shower, he couldn't help but narrows his eyes as he watched the shadow of Christian moving into the main kitchen area. Something began to tingle in the pit of his stomach, like tiny pinpricks stabbing into him at the thought of the hushed conversation taking place between the striking stranger and the man he loved. It was like a darkened curtain had been pulled down all around him, shutting him out of whatever was going on between the two of them.
He'd thought it was he who was keeping the secrets – his doubts, his uncertainty, his insecurities – but now the intense feeling of secrets being kept from himwashed over him like a tidal wave. It was a sharp, sudden feeling that he couldn't quite get a grip on.
He scrubbed his hair violently, turning up the water so that it began to scald lightly against his skin. It was difficult to think – but he wasn't quite sure that he wanted to.
Resentment for the intruder began to bubble up inside him – and he still couldn't think of her as anything else – who had smashed that quiet blanket of peace he had been holding onto. He hated the emotions that were swelling within him, hated the fact that he couldn't be objective or realistic about the situation, but he didn't have the strength to fight against them.
All he could do was repress them as he had done for so long; it was something that he had honed to perfection over his whole life.
Switching off the shower, he quickly dried himself and threw on his clothes, barely caring what he looked like. He could feel his hair framing his face like messy straw but he couldn't be bothered to tidy it; it was windy outside anyway, so there wouldn't be too many questions when he wandered into the salon looking a little bedraggled.
Christian was just draining the last remnants of a protein shake as Syed entered the kitchen, their eyes catching for a brief moment before they fell hurriedly to the side. Syed scanned the room, noting that imposing form of Mara hovering in the corner of kitchen – it didn't pass his notice that there was a half empty bottle of something that definitely wasn't lemonade nestled in her hand. But he decided not to pass comment. There was no point in causing a fuss, no reason to add to the teetering pile of issues that were leaning against the pillars of their relationship.
"Right," Christian slid the glass onto the kitchen top, picking up his bag and hauling it onto his shoulder. "I've got an early client, so I'll have to love you and leave you I'm afraid."
He paused slightly, bouncing slightly on his heels as he contemplated whether to turn towards the door or move towards the man he loved. Syed was slightly surprised when he stepped forward, catching hold of Syed's arm in a light grip as he brushed his lips across his cheek. His eyes slid closed as Christian lingered against him, their stubble rasping against one another for a few more, heart-stopping seconds before the older man pulled away.
There was a beat – Christian's teeth sank into his bottom lip as Syed forced his eyes open, their gazes holding one another until Christian broke the silent contact.
"Okay," he shifted the bag on his shoulder. "I'll see you later."
Syed's brief moment of elevated hope was shattered as Christian's last look was thrown at the young woman in the corner, something unreadable passing between them as Christian turned to leave the flat. That hateful feeling began to fester in his stomach once again. Like rats gnawing away at the lining of his gut.
He swallowed it, turning into the kitchen distracting himself with a rummage through the fridge. Mara's eyes were burning into his back – he could feel the dark weight of them pressing against him – but he kept his head buried in his work, the cool breeze of the fridge cooling the crimson flush that had crept onto his cheeks.
Eventually, however, he was forced to surface. He took a deep breath, steeling himself as he raised an open bottle of milk to his lips.
"So," he smiled at Mara, pushing away those negative feelings and calling on every ounce of trust he could muster; he didn't know her, therefore how did he know that she wasn't to be trusted? "You going to be alright here by yourself?"
Mara fixed him with a stare that was like a black hole, sucking him in and spitting a mangled mess out the other side.
"No, I thought I'd indulge in some light arson whilst I was here," she flicked her eyes away, taking a gulp from the beer bottle in her hand.
Syed blinked. Uneasiness stirred in his stomach. The dislike was clear in her voice – it rang through every syllable. But it wasn't born out of a malicious vindictiveness. That much Syed could tell. What he couldn't ascertain was just where it stemmed from. He knew it was something that only she, and maybe Christian, could tell him; he also knew that they weren't going to.
It was like banging his head against a brick wall. A brick wall with steel bars shot through the centre. On fire.
He hated, hated, hated this.
"Okay," he wrenched the fridge door open, setting the milk bottle back in its compartment before turning back, fingers massaging his temple. "I've got to go to work, so you just…I don't know…make yourself at home, I guess. And watch the hot tap in the bathroom – it tends to, y'know, be a bit violent if you're not careful with it. And…"
"Look," Mara set the bottle down on the work-surface, biting her lip before flicking back her head to fix him with a piercing look. "You're clearly a nice guy. You're trying your best. But cut the bullshit. You don't want me here and I don't really wanna be here. Shit happens. We're here. You don't have to like me but at least be honest with me."
Syed almost choked on air as he gulped, swallowing hard to try and fend off the emotions that were clamouring in his throat.
"No, that's not it," he fumbled for words, cursing the fact that he wasn't slightly more adept at expressing his emotions; Christian's gift with honesty would have gone down a treat here, he wagered. "It's just a change, that's all."
Mara surveyed him, distrust swimming in the muddy depths of her irises. He once again got the feeling that he was being read like a book, her eyes scanning every inch of his face with an intensity that made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. Eventually, she broke contact and walked forward, her fingers twisting at the hem of her shirt as she paused next to him.
"You're trusting," she whispered softly, eyes flicking to his. "That's nice. I wish I could be."
An awkward silence descended on them, the room thick with the tension that hung in the air. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like hours. Mara was the first to break the strained connection, heading briskly over to the sofa and drawing her knees to her chest – almost a mirror image of her position from the night before.
Syed stayed frozen to the spot, his mind a hopeless tangle of confused emotions. There were so many thoughts flitting through one another, ducking and weaving out of his grasp as he struggled to bring them together.
He didn't have the energy.
Grabbing his coat, he shucked it onto his shoulders and headed for the door. He needed to get away. He needed to focus on something else. He needed pointless banter. He needed the smell of massage oil and the hum of hairdryers filling his mind. He needed Tanya's bustling smile. He needed Jodie's inane, yet endearing, chatter.
He needed something, anything, that wasn't this.
For some reason, however, he felt compelled to cast one final glance at the young woman on the couch as he closed the door behind him.
She hadn't moved.
x
TBC...
x
Hope you enjoyed! Reviews and feedback are the lifeblood of any fanfiction writer's work, so anything you have to say is welcomed and gratefully appreciated. But please, don't feel pressured. Only if you can. If you can't, then I just hope this fiction continues to meet with your approval - and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you again.