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In some recess of Paytai's mind, he knows that this kind of behaviour isn't healthy. He's been around Khanin and Charan, and Calvin and Jay, enough to know they don't act this way, but he's long accepted that this is just the way he and Ramil are. What's the alternative? Leaving Ramil? Paytai would rather die.
“He's my friend,” Paytai reiterates for the nth time, trailing behind Ramil as he storms through up the path towards the resort. “I'm allowed to hug him and show affection.”
They're supposed to be here celebrating Jay and Calvin, but Ramil had seen Paytai pull Calvin into a hug and give him a friendly kiss on the cheek, and now here they were.
“People are going to think we're being rude,” he tries, and this time Ramil does stop, but his shoulders up around his ears and his fists are clenched at his sides.
“Rude? Do you think I care if people think we're rude?” Ramil doesn't turn around.
With a sigh, Paytai looks around. They're halfway up the path, and it's close to midnight; there's no one around, and judging by the music and shouts coming from the beach, no one is going to be heading this way for some time.
“Ramil.” Paytai just knows Ramil’s nails are cutting bloody crescents in his palms, so he reaches out to uncurl Ramil’s fingers, but Ramil jerks away from his touch. “Ramil, will you please turn around and talk to me?”
Ramil’s head drops and he turns, eyes focused somewhere on the ground between them.
“Thank you,” Paytai says gently, stepping into Ramil’s space. “Now, do you want to tell me why you’re so upset? We’ve been over this before—our friends are just. Friends. And they’re allowed.”
“I know, I just…” This time when Paytai reaches for him, Ramil lets him take his hand.
As predicted, when Ramil unclenches his fist, there are four small spots of blood in each palm. Paytai tuts and pulls out his handkerchief to dab at the angry skin.
“You seem… Happy. Around them. Lighter, and I just… You’re not that way, with me.” Ramil’s voice trails off into a whisper, one that Paytai has to strain his ears to hear. “I don’t… make you happy. I’m jealous, and possessive, and”—Ramil gestures towards the beach—“rude. I make scenes, I… You don’t smile at me like you do at them.”
Ramil is finally looking at him and Paytai’s heart feels like its breaking. There are tears glistening in Ramil’s eyes and Paytai feels his own eyes start to burn. “Have you ever considered that I don’t smile at them like I smile at you because only you get my real smile?”
A crease appears between Ramil’s eyebrows and Paytai reaches out to smooth it with his thumb.
“I like you jealous, and possessive, and rude. Ramil, after all this time, do you think this is what’s going to drive me away from you? I’m yours. I belong to you,” Paytai says, taking Ramil’s hand and setting it at the base of his throat. Ramil’s fingers are shaking, but he squeezes gently, and Paytai rewards him with a smile. “And you belong to me.” His hand is around Ramil’s neck now, his thumb rubbing small circles into the hollow of his throat. “I love what we are. I love you. All the rest of it, that’s just fluff and nonsense. What we are to each other, that’s all that matters. Okay?”
Drawing a shaky breath, Ramil nods and folds forward, the whole long, lean length of him coming to rest on Paytai’s shoulders. Paytai isn’t fazed, he doesn’t stumble, or buckle; he knows this weight. He’s used to it, and he’ll carry it for the rest of his life, should he be so lucky.