This chapter is from Christian's POV. It's set right after Zainab empties a can of paint over Christian's head. Remember that one?

The lovely reviews I received for the last chapter made me write this one quick smart. Reviewing pays! Hope you enjoy :-)

~c~s~

I'm going crazy. Insane. Out of my mind.

I've told myself that over and over again since I agreed to fix up this flat yesterday. His flat. Their flat… What on earth was I thinking?

I knew it'd be difficult. I knew I'd be thinking about him pretty much every second of every day until I finish this job. Like that's anything new. I also knew I'd have to see him, be near him, probably talk to him quite a bit.

Well, that's your answer right there, I think wryly. At the end of the day, being here means being close to Syed. And hard as that may be, being away from him will always be the more difficult choice.

What I didn't take into account, was just how much time I'd have to spend with Zainab. I pull a face as I try and wipe away the disgusting paint that has me covered almost from head to toe. Thank you Zainab.

I clench my jaw in anger as I look at myself as best I can without a mirror. The paint has ruined my dungarees which is no great loss, but I quite liked this shirt. I sigh as I loosen the straps and pull down the front of my, now vile peach coloured, dungarees. Yes, the shirt will have to go. I quickly strip it off and angrily scrunch it up in my fist.

From the other room, I hear Zainab mucking around with a roller and some paint, like nothing's happened. That thought annoys me to no end, and without really thinking about it, I step into the room to confront her.

'Well that is ruined. And you're gonna pay for it!' I announce.

Even with anger coursing through my veins, I notice Zainab's shoulders slumping. Like she's tired of this confrontation. Like she's fighting a losing battle and knows it. Like she hoped I would just slump off in defeat, covered in shame instead of paint. I think not.

'Don't push me,' she threatens, turning toward me with a giant paint roller in her hands.

'You're pushing me Zainab,' I shoot right back.

'Well obviously not hard enough. I mean how much pushing would it take huh Christian?' she challenges me. 'How much pushing would it take to push you out'.

With those last words, she actually paints me with the roller from my chest up to my face. Unbelievable. If she thinks that'll make me back down, she is very much mistaken.

'More than you're capable of darling,' I state boldly.

And I mean it. Her actions actually strengthen my resolve. She wouldn't be fighting this hard if she wasn't afraid. Afraid of what I could do. Afraid of my feelings. But most of all, afraid of her son's feelings for me…

'Oh really? ' I ask, not impressed in the slightest.

That angers her and she pushes the paint roller toward me again. But I'm not having it. I easily fend her off as she tries to struggle with me for control of the roller.

'Just-lay-off!' I bite at her.

She keeps struggling. We both have hold of the handle attached to the roller now, she's not giving up but she's no match for me.

'No, you lay off!' she almost screams at me.

'Zainab… Just stop it alright?' I say to her, now also raising my voice.

'No!' she shrieks, keeping the struggle going even though she must know she can't win. Not this fight.

'Stop it right now. I'm warning you!' I try and talk some sense into her.

'Why? What are you going to do Christian, eh? Are you going to hit a woman?' she accuses me.

I instantly freeze. That's what she would think, isn't it. I step back and release the paint roller, squaring my jaw. I'm done with this. I shake my head. Yes, I'm done.

But Zainab isn't ready to let this go.

'You're such a coward,' she sneers.

What happens after is a bit of a blur. She steps up to try and attack me once again, looking to hit me over the head with the roller I think. Instead, she steps into the container of paint, slips, twists and lands flat on her face.

I have no chance to react. I'm just standing there, still reeling, when the front door suddenly swings open and Masood steps in.

'Surprise!' he calls out, smiling. He hasn't noticed yet that his wife is sprawled out on the floor, paint splattered all over her.

I don't know what to say. Don't know what to do. I turn to look at Masood and see he's carrying Kamil in his arms. And right behind him, Syed walks in. Oh God… What is he going to think?

'What's happened? Are you alright?' Masood asks, finally having noticed that Zainab is on the floor.

I look back and forth uncertainly, still unable to move or even utter a single word. What is she going to say? What are they going to think? What is Syed going to think?

'Do I look alright?' Zainab finally says bitterly, wiping away some of the paint. 'Look what he's done!'

My eyes fly toward Syed, my heart literally pounding inside my chest. How will he react? Is he going to believe her? Will he…

Our eyes lock and I let out a gasp at what I see in his. It's like we're alone, no one else here, just me and him. He draws me in with his eyes, a look of longing in them, so powerful it's almost painful to see.

All of a sudden it's real. I haven't let myself believe it until now, didn't dare believe it until right now. He still wants me. He still needs me. He's not thinking about Zainab, not thinking about anything but us.

I feel naked standing in front of him like this. What am I saying, I am half naked. His eyes flick to my naked chest before focussing on my eyes again. The pure want in them is taking my breath away.

I need to get out of here. Need to go, right now. This is all so confusing… If it was just me and him, I'd rush over to pull him into my arms and kiss him to within an inch of his life. Hell, I'm tempted to do that even now, in front of his parents for fuck's sake. Yes, I really need to go…

Sy seems to understand me. He gives me a quick nod and indicates the door with his head.

'I… I think it's best if I go for now,' I stammer. I clear my throat and continue in a slightly steadier voice: 'I should get cleaned up. A shower and all that. Yeah…'

God that was lame. I give an apologetic smile to Masood, ignore Zainab and look at Sy one more time before I hurriedly collect my things and leave.

~c~s~

I sigh in contented bliss as I step under the shower and give into the soft caress of the warm water on my naked skin. Dutifully, I begin to scrub my body and hair, trying to get rid of every last trace of that hideous paint. When I'm satisfied I'm good as new, I can't bring myself to step out of the shower just yet.

I know where this is going. In fact, I knew where this was going even before I got undressed and stepped into this shower. My hand, still slippery with soap, slides down my chest, over my belly until it envelops my fully erect cock in a firm grip. I hiss my breath in through my teeth.

Finally… I've been hard from the moment Syed looked at me like that, like he used to, like he's still mine… I groan as I start to move my hand, up and down my shaft, slowly, tantalisingly slow…

My mind flies back to the many memories I have of him, of us, in this very room, in this very shower even. When I close my eyes, I can see him, kneeling down in front of me, my cock in his mouth. I remember the strokes of his tongue, the lapping, the sucking… His hair is wet, his eyes closed against the water, his mouth hot and wet, perfect…

My hand starts to speed up, moving up and down furiously while my hips buck up into my fist. I let my head fall back, welcoming the cascading water that pummels my face.

Another image flickers in front of my eyes, very similar to the last one. Except it's me this time, I'm the one on my knees. I remember the feel of his cock in my mouth, hot, firm, heavy. I remember how he whimpered, how he whispered my name, over and over again. I remember sucking harshly while slipping a finger between his arse cheeks and gently pushing at his entrance. I remember him almost falling, his legs giving way underneath him, only just managing to stay upright as his back hit the tiled wall along with his hands.

God I remember… I remember it all.

More images… Syed, forehead and hands pressed up against the cool tiles as I pound into him. Muttering incoherent words of encouragement, pushing his arse back to meet my every thrust. Frantic kisses tracing the line of his neck and shoulder, biting down, perhaps a bit too harshly as my orgasm rips through me. Sy's head falling back to rest on my shoulder, his mouth open in a hoarse cry as his own climax grips him.

My free hand is roaming over my body restlessly. So close, I'm so bloody close. The hand on my cock is moving at an incredible pace now, my thumb swiping over the slit at the head with every other stroke. My balls tighten and my back arches as I moan his name and come and come and come...

~c~s~

The lingering bliss of the rather satisfying wank lasts about as long as it takes me to get dressed. Before I put on my socks and shoes, reality has come back to hit me in full force.

Am I reading too much into this? It was just one look for fuck's sake. I know what I saw, I know what was there, but was that just a slip? He's moving in with Amira, I know better than anyone, seeing as I've been attempting to make their dingy looking flat suitable to actually live in. Because his wife asked me to.

What does it all mean. Has anything really changed?

I grab my keys, throw on my coat and head out the door. I'm desperate for some fresh air, some perspective on all this. I'm driving myself insane with all these questions I don't have the answers to.

I wander down the streets aimlessly, stopping in at the MinuteMart as I pass it. Might as well pick up some groceries while I'm there.

The streets are wet, but it isn't raining just now thank God. That's just what I need, some miserable, dreary rain to go with my miserable dreary mood.

This is no use. I might as well head home. Forget about the flat for a while. Forget about him for a while. Just… forget.

As I walk up the street, I can't seem to help myself. My eyes fly up to look at his window and I freeze. He's there, looking right at me from behind the glass.

He looks so sad. I'm not sure what's going on in his head. I hope he knows I didn't mean to make things difficult with his Mum. She just riles me, that's all.

'Sorry,' I mouth silently, hoping he'll understand.

And then it happens. My heart stops as he reaches out a hand and places it on the cold glass. And he looks at me. God how he looks at me…

In the background I hear this song playing, it's a song I keep hearing everywhere, repeating the lyrics "We've got to fight for this love" over and over again. And in that moment, I know that's exactly what I need to do.

I stand there, unable to look away, with what I know must be a foolish grin on my face and hope searing through my veins. Amira, Zainab, they can all go and fuck themselves for all I care. Syed is mine and I won't rest until he's back where he belongs. With me. For good this time.

~c~s~

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