Chapter Text
He had come purely because his sister was forced to babysit him. “I don’t need a babysitter, I’m old enough. This is stupid,” he would claim, but his parents would never listen. She hated looking after him, especially when she already had plans, so it was a loss for both of them.
However, he hadn’t expected her friend to be his friend’s older sister. Despite being friends, they didn’t talk enough for Ayaan to know that much about his personal life. Maybe it was mentioned before, he just hadn’t remembered.
At least we have annoying older sisters in common, he thought.
Ayaan’s sister dumped him with Alan, telling him to “go play” like a six-year-old while the two girls gossiped in the other room and then, being the responsible adults they are, left Ayaan and Alan home alone while they went to go buy some sweets for a “trauma candy salad.” He had no idea what they meant by that.
It was awkward, to say the least. In school, they would converse and crack a joke, sometimes Ayaan would even walk him home; outside of school, they weren’t as close to each other as they were with the rest of their friends. Ayaan liked him, he just didn’t know how to get closer and wasn’t desperate to.
Ayaan was lost on what the right course of action was, but then he realised that maybe there was no point in pondering anything (especially since he’s not good at it). Alan swayed slowly, and his usual bright eyes were glassy. If he thinks back to when his sister left, he recalls Alan slightly slurring his goodbye, but he had just chalked it up to his usual sound. After all, his Polish accent was very different compared to other’s West Yorkshire accents in the school, so he could never be sure if he was saying something wrong or it was just how he naturally sounded.
Alan was drunk.
This guy, man - getting drunk at 2 pm, Ayaan mentally complained. He was definitely going to tell everyone he knew all about this.
So, as Ayaan sat on the floor with his legs crossed and Alan walked around, dazed, and seemingly having discovered his room for the first time, the room was silent.
He could scroll on his phone for the time being, or he could get Alan to say embarrassing things. Ayaan didn’t have to carefully lay out his options, as it was clear what the best one was.
“Alan,” Ayaan started, satisfied as the mentioned boy turned around, startled, “Why are you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk,” Alan boldly refuted.
“Oh, my days man, if you’re not drunk then you should get that checked. You’re the definition of it.”
“’Am not, just had-” Alan mumbles.
A beat passes.
“Don’t tell me you forgot what you were going to say.”
All he gets is a confused “What?”
In response, Ayaan disappointedly sighed, moving his legs outward into a more comfortable position as he considered what to say.
“This proves what I said. Get out, man.”
His careful consideration was clearly proved futile since the meme reference doesn’t click in the drunken Alan’s small brain as his weight finally became too much for his legs and he tumbled down, straight on to Ayaan. He held on to Ayaan’s waist for dear life, his dark blue eyes shut and a distressed expression on his face before he whipped his head down, shaggy blonde hair covering tears that threatened to spill, “No! I won’t!”
Alan’s broken words shocked Ayaan and his dark eyes locked onto the boy’s vulnerable state as his face contorted into one of disgust, yet he let Alan embrace him.
“I didn’t mean it seriously, dumbass.”
The words only half registered in Alan’s mind, him still clinging to the boy below him.
“You’re warm. I like you,” Alan slurred.
Ayaan wasn’t sure if he meant that personally and in a gay way, he hoped that wasn’t the case. Maybe Alan had imagined him as a girl, or maybe he hadn’t even considered who he was hugging and just focused on how he felt.
It felt weird. This Alan was different.
The usual hyperactive Alan had mulled over, and Ayaan was left with what was underneath. It was the one that no one else saw.
This Alan was soft. He didn’t actively put up a hard front. He didn’t act like he should receive special treatment. He didn’t care about being the funniest person in the room.
Only he had the privilege of seeing this Alan, and he didn’t want to admit that he wanted it to stay that way.
Ayaan liked this Alan, but he didn’t like what that said about him. He didn’t like how this Alan made him feel.
This isn’t right, he thought, God wouldn’t agree.
Yet he couldn’t lie to himself. If the Alan he saw right now acted somewhat similarly to the one he saw five days a week, he would want to be like Jak and Lola, or Eddie and Amie with him.
He could love this Alan.
That painful realisation settled wrongly in his gut. He couldn’t do that. He was a good Muslim boy. He prayed, he celebrated Eid, he fasted – he wasn’t going to give that up for a dumb thought he had seconds ago for a boy who drank a bit too much alcohol. Alcohol was a sin anyways.
Alan’s voice broke through his train of thought, “Are you okay?”
Ayaan couldn’t help staring into the boy’s eyes, taking note of the glimmer of tears coating his beady eyes. However, they now didn’t threaten to fall as Alan had seemed to calm down during his ponder.
“Yeah,” he replied, “But don’t mistake me for a girl – if I feel a boner, I’ll fucking kill you.”
Alan just looked at him, letting out an almost cartoonish gulp. “Not a girl,” he muttered.
He hadn’t even been given a moment to process as Ayaan fell back to the floor with a “thump”. Alan towered over him, hands planted parallel to each other and Ayaan’s face between them, practically straddling the guy.
“Alan, what the fuck are you doing?”
“I don’t imagine you as a girl. You’re you. You’re Ayaan, and I want you,” is what Alan replied with, moving down to lock his lips to the other boy. He didn’t pull away.
Ayaan questioned where Alan got this experience from. It was tender and sweet, everything he could have asked for, and more.
He knew it was wrong, but it felt right.
Their rhythm was interrupted by Alan gasping for air, damn those vape lungs.
Ayaan just stared in shock. He didn’t form any coherent thoughts – he was just blinded by how Alan looked in the dim glow of his cheap LED lights. He was beautiful, and he wished he could love him like he was a girl.
Alan smiled – one of those Ayaan sees often where he’s cheeky and proud – and resumed his position, making their lips embrace one another like that’s where they belong, like two puzzle pieces.
This kiss is significantly shorter – Ayaan can’t help feeling disappointed.
He shouldn’t feel disappointed. He shouldn’t feel this way at all.
He wishes they could be together.
As Alan gazed lovingly at the boy opposite him, face overcome with pure bliss, Ayaan broke the news, “This has gone too far.”
Alan’s blissful expression morphed into confusion, Ayaan continuing, “I can’t do this. I shouldn’t have even let it happen in the first place. I’m Muslim. This- this... It's just wrong.”
“Then you don’t want anything to do with me, do you?”
Ayaan was stunned into silence, guiltily looking to the side and avoiding eye contact.
I should leave, Ayaan thought. He pushed Alan off him, suppressing his tears at the sight of Alan’s heartbroken expression and standing up.
A hand grasped his wrist in a panic, “I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
In the only way he knew how to respond, Ayaan angrily shoved the hand off him, “Don’t be sick.”
Ayaan left the room, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t spare a glance back, knowing that whatever he’d see would haunt him.
Alan let him leave. He let him go, he let tears roll down his cheeks, and he let his lip tremble with upset.
Unfortunately, the distress had sobered him up. He blindly reached under the bed for his half-empty bottle of vodka, vision blurry from crying. He took the bottle and released a broken sigh before drinking the liquid. It burnt his throat, but he hoped the temporary effects that follow would be worth more than anything.
Alan lay on the floor, thoughts nothing more than a void. A leftover sob from his throat sounded throughout the room. He closed his eyes, hoping to slip into a place of elation as a “We’re home!” echoes through the house. He could feel himself drifting off. Perhaps he will dream of him and Ayaan together, happy in each other’s presence, even if it will never come true.