To get us through this gloomy black hole. Salutes WFCTGIO. Enjoy.
I'm stood at his door trembling. I had intended to go straight home but, well, this home called out to me too. I had been angry, so angry at Christian all this time I'd been away. I couldn't fathom how he could justify his actions that night. He was like a tornado sweeping through my life, my heart – destruction at its worst. But I couldn't walk past his door and now that I'm here, all the anger has melted. I don't know how long has passed but I can't find the courage to ring his bell.
I hear footsteps, the latch... the door opens. I'm not ready! Christian!
But no, what's happened to his face? I'm shell-shocked, so is he. He's looking at me, surprise mixed with melancholy in his eyes. He looks more unsure with every split-second that passes. I need to reassure him but I can't speak.
"Christian," I mouth, but it's just air. He's noted my intention though.
"Sy. I..."
He gives up trying to speak too and brings me in for a hug. I squeeze him needing to feel him more than anything but he pulls away in pain.
"Sorry. What's happened?"
He takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I don't want to admit how my body tingled at the sensation of his hand around mine.
I find strength once we're in the flat.
"Christian, what happened to you? Did someone beat you up?"
"What else would it be?" He sounded bitter. I don't know what to say.
"Sorry."
"Stop saying that." I'm silent because I don't know what to say but that. "It was... it wasn't anything, I'm fine now."
"Christian! This isn't the time to be proud. Someone hurt you, I want to know who."
"Where have you been?" His voice was heartbreaking. "I've been calling ya."
I know he has. But I couldn't bring myself to speak to him, not after what he'd done to me. Wading in, it wasn't his place.
"Syed, all I wanted to know was that you were OK."
"How could I be? You'd just..."
I couldn't put it into words, what he'd done. He'd taken a hammer to my life, to my family's life, to Amira's life. What did he expect? What did he expect from me now? And what did I expect from him? An apology? Because I'd be waiting an eternity. If he accuses me of saying 'sorry' too much, it's because I have to say it for the both of us. So if I cannot not expect that from him, he really shouldn't expect anything from me. I'm only trying to do what's right. He knows he's my weakness – it's cruel to add to the pressure I already feel.
I feel him take my hand, rubbing my palm with his thumb. No, why? I can't... My eyes sting from tears trying to get out. I blink and they leave me. I can't look up at him. He comes in close to me but I notice the small gap he leaves to protect his injuries. Who hurt my Christian? He brushes his cheek against mine and holds me – it's like we're dancing but standing still. This Christian is so far from the one who caused me to leave a few days ago. If only he'd seen that in the same way his body needs to be treated with delicacy now, he needed to treat things with delicacy then. But the damage is done – on both counts. Now we need to do what we can to repair the damage.
"Show me what they've done."
He looks at me warily before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, wincing slightly. It's awful. He's got bandaging on his ribs but there's plenty of visible bruises and lacerations which haven't yet healed. I don't know which upsets me more; this damage I see all over his torso and face or his embarrassment.
"You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Christian. The person who did this to you does. Who was it, Christian?" I try to put some authority back into my voice so that he may answer me this time.
"Amira's father. I don't blame him, do you?"
"Of course I do! He can't just... I can't even believe... how did he even hurt you so badly?"
"With a little help from his friends."
"What?"
"Oh don't act so surprised, Syed. They'd be lining up, wouldn't they?"
"That's despicable!"
"Well, so am I... to them. Now you understand that, don't you?"
"What do you mean?
"Well that's what this is all about, isn't it? That we're disgusting, that we're wrong. Or maybe just I am. Maybe that's how you think of me."
"How can you say that? That's the last thing I'd think of you."
"You don't want to be like me. Perish the thought!"
"That's not why! You're beautiful. It's just I'm..."
He snorts.
"What?"
"I'm beautiful? I'm covered in bruises that say otherwise."
"You are beautiful."
"I don't believe you."
"How can you not... after all this time?"
"Because if you truly thought that, then you might - you just might - start to believe that you were too."
Why was he saying this to me? He brought up my chin and made me look at him.
"That's all I want, Sy. For you to recognise that we... are beautiful, together."
He was wrong. I had destroyed my family. What was beautiful about that? But that had no bearing on what I thought of him. He was beautiful, stood in front of me now - beaten, vulnerable. But strong. For that, I admired him.
"Syed...?"
I looked up at him.
He brought his face close to mine and kissed me. I didn't respond the first time but the second time, I was lost in him. I couldn't even think, let alone think to pull away. His lips were soft, his tongue warm as it flirted with mine. I was his, in this moment. All his.
