It's been a while, I know. I sort of got... distracted. But, to make up for it, I'm posting three chapters in one go! So please take note to read them in the right order. This chapter, chapter 23, is the first. It's set on the day that Christian and Jane come over for dinner at the Beale house. It's from Syed's POV.

~s~c~

Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…

All day long, I can hear it in the back of my mind. Bad boy… Like a sick sort of mantra, repeating itself over and over again. At times, it sounds mocking and shrill and has Mum's voice. Then it changes, becomes kind of whining and accusing like Amira. But mostly it has Dad's voice, disapproving and judgemental. It doesn't matter what I'm doing or who I'm with. It's just… there. Like, all the time.

I can't believe I let Mum think that Dad was cheating on her. I knew it wasn't true, of course I did. Somehow, I can't seem to stop myself acting like a cat backed into a corner, just lashing out at whomever comes near. Ever since I saw those words sprayed all over our front door I knew they were about me. I don't care what Dad and Tam might have done, there is only one bad boy living in this house. And that boy is me. They might as well have sprayed it right on my forehead. As far as I'm concerned, the sharply angled words were like a red flashing arrow, pointing straight at me. The bad boy.

Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…

It just won't leave me alone. I can function pretty normally, talk to Mum, Dad, Amira, Tam, like nothing's going on. It dulls to a tiny whisper when I'm in company, quiet enough for me to pretend it isn't there. But then it will hit me. Someone knows. And I'll become paranoid, searching the faces of everyone I see. Is it you? I'll think a hundred times a day. But I don't say anything. I can't, can I…

It could be all in my head I suppose… Sometimes I can almost convince myself it is. Just some tag from a graffiti artist who randomly picked our door. But it's not. I just know it's not…

Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…

At night, alone in my bed, it becomes so loud it's almost deafening. Whenever I'm alone it's so much more persistent, so much more there. I can't stand it. I want so much to forget, to not care so much. I always want what I can't have, don't I…

There's only one place those words can't get to me, one place where I'm safe. When I'm with him, even if I still hear the words, they've lost their power over me. They're just… words. I'm a bad boy. So what? Am I supposed to chastise myself for something that feels so good? So… right? Well I won't. I refuse. When I'm with him, I just breathe. How does something you do every day, every minute, every couple of seconds from the moment you're born, suddenly become so much more important? I can't describe it. When I'm not with him, I still breathe. But it isn't a conscious act. It isn't something I take pleasure from. When I'm with Christian, even breathing becomes a delight. Because it feels so… free. So abundant. The nearer I am, the better it becomes. When I'm lying close to him, every breath brings me a piece of him. It caries his scent, his essence, and it… I don't know… lightens me? Yes, I guess that's it. Everything is lighter when I'm with him.

'Syed, is that table set yet? They'll be here any minute now!' I hear Mum shriek from the kitchen. I set down the glass I've been playing with for only God knows how long and reach for the napkins.

'Almost done' I answer her as she walks in the room looking slightly frazzled. It's obvious she feels guilty about the way she talked to Jane and wants to make it up to her. Her guilt only sharpens my own. After all, if I hadn't put the idea of her and Dad in Mum's head in the first place… I shake my head to get rid of the thoughts and smile at Mum.

'Good, good…' she mumbles, scanning the table. Apparently it meets with het approval, because she gives a small nod and heads back to the kitchen. 'You can lay out the starters now' she calls over her shoulder.

'Yes Mum…'

~s~c~

They're here. He's here. A familiar little thrill of excitement surges through me. As Mum ushers them in, I quickly smooth down my shirt, inwardly mocking myself for my vanity. As soon as he walks in the door, our eyes meet. Luckily Mum and Jane are still so awkward around each other that it seems unlikely they'll notice anything we do. I decide that's a very good thing as I catch the devilish twinkle in his eye. That twinkle does funny things to me. Things that could quickly become embarrassing while we're around my mum and his sister. As soon as the women leave to put the flowers Christian brought over into a vase, I take my chance to scold him.

'What are you doing here?' I enquire sternly.

'Coming for diner' is his simple reply. But that twinkle hasn't left his eyes. In fact, it is now enjoying the company of a smug smile. Bastard. He knows what that does to me.

'Thought your mum would have told you' he adds.

'No'.

I never asked. I just assumed it would be Ian Jane was bringing. But before I can elaborate, Mum and Jane walk back in, followed closely by Dad. I guess it's time for diner.

Of course he sits down in the chair right next to mine. I can't say this surprises me. Mum has unwittingly played right into his hands by her choice of seating arrangements. I look at his smirk as we sit down. He's enjoying himself way too much at my expense. But the funny thing is, so am I. I'm annoyed at him, yes, apprehensive that he'll do something and someone will notice, definitely. But most of all I just enjoy the fact that he's so close to me that I can feel him. I'll bet I can even touch him and no one would know. I'm quite sure that's what he's thinking too. And sure enough, I haven't even reached out for the naan or his hand is touching my knee gently. He really is a bastard. I could shove it off of course, or stomp on his toes or something like that. But the truth is, I like it just where it is. And we both know it.

~s~c~

Dinner is an awkward affair. For me that is. Mum has cleared the air by actually apologizing, and everyone relaxed a bit after that. Everyone except me. Christian won't let me. His fingers have been drawing maddening patterns on my thigh whenever he's gotten the chance. I wouldn't have thought the idea of him touching me, right in front of my parents, where we can so easily have get caught, would be such a thrill for me. Although I'm terrified of being found out, the danger is strangely compelling.

Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boy…

I still hear the words. But now they're more… seductive. The voice sounds crooning, tempting me to be that bad boy. Then my dad looks at me and I sober up. I guess I'm still that bad boy. I'd prefer it if no one knew about it though. Especially my family. The thought of any one of them finding out is like a cold shower on my overheated hormones. I move back a bit, gently removing Christian's hand from my knee. He looks at me questioningly. Not here. Not now, I tell him with my eyes. Later? He mouths. My eyes dart over to Dad, who's bickering with Mum about whether or not the curry is too spicy for non-Indian folk. I look back at Christian and risk giving a tiny nod, warming myself in the soft glow of pleasure that fills his eyes.

~s~c~

'What took you so long'.

I yelp as I'm suddenly pulled by my shirt into yet another alleyway. Catching my breath, I respond: 'Had to help Mum didn't I'.

I lean back against the wall, trying to look casual. The effect however is ruined as Christian moves in on me, effectively pushing me into a corner. He doesn't even touch me, but he's standing so close… I realize once again just how big and strong he is. I suppress a shiver.

'Tonight was entertaining wasn't it?' he asks.

'If you mean entertaining for you, then yes' I agree.

He smirks knowingly.

'Don't do that again' I warn him.

'Come on, it was fun. Lusting after you… Not being able to touch ya'.

I'm not going to dignify that with an answer.

'So is someone threatening you now?' I ask, inwardly wincing at the sarcasm in my voice.

'No' he answers, slightly annoyed. 'Stop being so paranoid'.

I sigh and look away. He doesn't understand. He doesn't hear that voice inside his head now does he? He doesn't understand why I'm so sure it's about me. And I can't blame him, because I have no rational explanation. I just… know.

'So what's the big emergency? I thought you wanted to see me?' I change the subject.

He just looks at me.

'You know why I want to see you' he says simply.

A shiver runs down my spine. Of course I do. For the same reason that I showed up here. To see him. To be with him. To kiss him, touch him, feel him, fuck him, hold him… I'm a good liar, I know I am. Yet he never fails to see through me. Still not touching me, he leans in, to kiss me I think. I twist my head away. But that exposes my left ear to his soft lips.

'Let's go back to the flat' he whispers in my ear. I don't respond, determinedly looking away. He breathes hot air on my earlobe and another shiver catches me.

'Go on… you know you want to…' he adds seductively.

Bastard. He's not even touching me, yet every nerve in my body is zinging with his presence. I'm supposed to meet Amira in half an hour. But of course I can't resist.

'I really shouldn't' I say in a half-hearted effort to not give in so easily. But he just looks at me and smiles, knowing he's won. Bastard. I'd pretend to be pissed off if I wasn't so eager I'm practically drooling. Somehow, I doubt I'd be very convincing. So in the end I decide to give in gracefully.

'Alright. Just five minutes though. Fifteen minutes tops' I sigh. He looks at me with a knowing smile. I decide to ignore that. Bastard.

~s~c~

On to the next one ;-)