I hit him so hard I hoped the fading bruises on his chest magnified the pain. My thoughts not clear enough to be articulated, I hit him again with the other hand.

"How dare you? You bastard! You cruel bastard!"

My face was hot, wet with tears. I wanted to be anywhere but with him but he was still there in front of me, the mere sight of him offending me. I got up, out of the bed, into the bathroom, just to be somewhere else. Crying into the sink, I hated him. He was sick.

I was there for a couple of minutes before he entered, turning me round to face him and putting his arms around me. I was too upset to reject him, I just buried my head into his chest and cried the last of my tears. Resting his chin on my head, he ran his fingers through my hair and tried to calm me. I did calm down but not because of him. All his talk of making love and then he uses sex as a weapon, uses it in the most vile, twisted way – in vengeance.

I wrestled from his grip and stormed back into the main room, going straight for the sofa where my clothes were. He came back in as I was putting my jeans on. He didn't say anything, he just leaned against the door frame. He watched as I put on my socks, then t-shirt, and handed me my boots which were by him.

"Who are you?" I asked, really wondering. It was like I'd never known him at all.

I finished lacing up my boots and found the bag I'd packed the day before. I slung it over my shoulder grimacing at the bitter irony of it.

Before I turned to go, I found the resolve to look at him again.

"Why? When I'd finally promised myself to you..."

With a sadness, a sweetness, to his voice, he replied, "I knew you wouldn't stay."


I sat in the flat, in the bedroom, staring up at the wall; 'Syed loves Christian'. I didn't know what I felt now. Not that a year's-worth of love could be cancelled out in one sentence, but it was an abhorrent thing to do. For those few minutes afterwards, I'd questioned it, I'd really questioned it. How could I trust him now that I'd seen the level he would stoop to just to see me hurt? It was spiteful, it was calculated. All because he doubted me. He utterly mistrusted me, with an intensity that was nothing but destructive. How could we get back from here?

At the same time, since I'd made the choice I had tonight, it was clear I couldn't shy away from it any longer. I couldn't pretend I wasn't... gay. I couldn't get wrapped up in another dishonest relationship like I had with Amira. I couldn't opt for a life of celibacy either just to try and gain the acceptance I would not gain from a life alone anyway, even less now in the wake of everyone finding out about me. The reality was, I didn't know how I could make my parents proud of me, short of throwing myself into a new marriage which I neither could, nor would, now do to any girl. I didn't know of anything I would actually be prepared to do that would make them proud because I loved Christian and that caused them shame. … I love Christian.

I looked at the wall in a fresh light. I had to put tonight behind me if we were going to have any chance. I had to continue on with my plan: to tell my parents that Christian and I were together and then be there waiting for him at his flat when he got home. I should think that might also show him I am worthy of his trust. This is what needs to be done.

I caught myself smiling, probably because I was secretly quite proud of myself for having such clear thoughts after the mess of tonight, not to mention the fact that it was 4am. I decided to sleep under the graffiti for the first time that night – somehow it didn't bother me so much now.


I woke quite late, it was already the afternoon. I showered and had a good breakfast in preparation for the visit to my parents. I was nervous but not intolerably so. I was ready to do this, I was.

I walked over to the house sucking in as much oxygen from the spring air as I could, just to steady myself. I knocked and Tam answered.

"Syed, hi."

"Hi Tambo. Are mum and dad in?"

"Yeah."

He let me inside and gestured towards the living room. I was glad he was there too – perhaps as someone less daunting to face on a day like today. I walked in and mum and dad were sat at the table going through some things.

"Hi mum, dad."

They turned around and dad's face was doubting as ever, mum's verging on thunderous.

"I..." I quickly gulped the air that would not be inhaled and gathered myself again. "I came because I've got something to tell you, something you should hear."

"What's that?" said dad, folding his arms, already expecting the worst as he always did of me. I sat down in front of them and smiled nervously.

"Me and... Christian." I'd delayed saying his name because I knew they would baulk upon hearing it. "We're going to be together." That was it, it was said.

"What, Syed?" Mum spoke quietly, disbelieving. "You rip this family to shreds, run away and then come back to tell us that you are carrying on with that man? That man?"

"You know what, Syed?" dad interjected. "You've always been a selfish man and now, you have surpassed yourself. Turning your back on this family in their hour of need."

"I'm not though – I want to see this family back on its feet..."

"How?" he shouted. "By sleeping with him?"

"No, it's not like that. You can't know how sorry I am for this whole mess. If I could go back and start again, I would. But lying about it has only made things worse. I need to be honest and the truth is, I love him."

Mum shook her head. "Love him? Syed, how can you love him? When he has done this to us?"

Dad interrupted again. "That man destroys families, destroys marriages. He swaggers around, led by his groin, doing whatever he wants because he's the only person he's concerned about. The rest is all a big joke to him."

"No, dad, he cares."

"Is that what he tells you, eh? Does he also 'care' about the bloke we saw him leaving his flat with yesterday?"

My heart stops.

"What?"

"You heard."

My head was spinning at a terrific speed and I was suddenly desperately nauseous. "He wouldn't."

"Of course he would! And he did. And he then had the audacity to come over and have a go at us."

"No..."

"Zee, tell him."

"Tell him what, Mas? The boy actually chooses this filthy, sinful lifestyle above his own family. They deserve each other."

"Do you know what, Syed? Just leave."

"Dad, I want..."

"Get out!" he shouted, pounding the table. I caught my mother's disgusted look before I left. I heard Tam call my name but I sped out of the door.

I literally ran back to the flat and collapsed in a heap on the landing. Out of breath, crying, I wondered whether things could get any worse. My head pounded, I could barely think. Things were at rock bottom with my parents; my mother could barely look at me, my father only with contempt – I wasn't welcome anymore, I wasn't their son, just their source of shame. With Christian, it just seemed to be one thing after another; relentless hurt. His reckless outing of me, first to my wife, and then, not satisfied with that, to everyone. His cruel game last night – I was increasingly sure he'd done the whole thing out of spite. And now this.

Did he love me? Or hate me?