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Naim's figure, alone and forlorn, begs for Ryan's attention as he draws away. He thinks the look in Naim's eyes, broken and regretful and so, so lost, will haunt Ryan forever. But not as much as Izzie's words, horribly soft and casual, a throwaway sentence belying the depth of the betrayal she was revealing. He doesn't realize he's crying until the road ahead of him becomes dangerously blurry. He pulls over to the side of the road with a probably too-quick jerk of his wrists, gravel squeaking and crunching under the wheels as he comes to a grinding halt.
The cuts and scrapes on his face burn, stinging as he scrubs a palm over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. His ear throbs, and he can feel blood slowly oozing out of the still-healing wound, sliding out around the stitches. He wants to get violent, wants to punch something, wants to destroy a wall or a tree or his own hands if only it would get him out of his head. It's times like these when he reminds himself most of his father, of the patched up holes in their home. It's times like these that he misses Hunter the most, misses the easy punishment he gave.
He presses his head onto the sticky faux leather of the steering wheel, trying to ignore the pulsing of all the injuries littering his body he can feel with every beat of his heart. He almost doesn't notice the figure running desperately towards his car. Wouldn't have, if not for the glint of light off the chain around their neck. He sits straight up, craning his head to make out more details. It's Naim. He's running quickly, but it's not the kind of focused sprint that Ryan would expect to see from direct pursuit. He looks panicked, like he's running from something. Ryan adjusts his grip on the steering wheel. He should go. He's alone, he knows he's alone, he knows it's not Naim. But he sits there until Naim reaches the car anyways, and rolls down the window before Naim can even say anything.
"Ryan, Ryan, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't… I didn't mean for this, for any of this." His eyes, that were already welling with tears, finally burst and spill over his cheeks. "I never wanted to hurt you, or Hunter. I'm so sorry." Ryan can feel burning behind his eyes as more and more tears well up and blur his vision because Naim's voice is so fucking devastated, and his face is all screwed up in sorrow and regret, and Naim's a pretty crier but Ryan has never seen anything like this. "I would never want to hurt you, Ryan." And something inside Ryan cracks and crumbles and falls into peices as Naim's voice drops to a whisper, as he looks away from Ryan, as he fidgets anxiously with his hands. Ryan can't find the words to speak, because he knows this isn't real but fuck he wants it to be.
Naim's head whips around suddenly and he looks back at Ryan, eyes wide and wet, face pale. "Ryan. Ryan please, it's been following me, mum isn't at home-" His head darts back around and he backs up, moving towads the front of the car. He's bathed in yellow light from the headlights, and a flashing orange from the hazard lights Ryan flicked on. The bags on his face stand out harshly, his skin looking even more sickly pale than it had outside the bus. "Ryan, I'm sorry, I know you don't know if it's me, but please, I swear, I'm me." His eyes well with more tears. "I'm myself." Ryan meets his gaze through the front windshield, heart pumping painfully fast in his chest. He's alone, he's alone so it's not Naim. But what if it is? What if it is Naim, what if his mum wasn't home, what if he ran after Ryan because he's the only person Naim knew could understand. Fuck. His hand is hovering in the air, stretches out to unlock the car, when Naim sucks in a breath and breaks off in a sprint, terrified.
Ryan watches like it's slow motion as his feet fall out from under him and he gets dragged off the road, into the brush. His screams rend the air, anguished and awful, driving a wedge deeper and deeper into Ryan's heart as he sits frozen in the car. It's only when Naim's pained cries have faded into the night air that Ryan can force himself to move. He pries his shaking hands off the steering wheel and bursts out of the car door, feeling almost dizzy and disoriented. He takes a few shaky steps on the gravel towards where he last saw Naim. There's marks from where he was clawing at the ground, messy lines of displaced gravel created when he was pulled away. Small specks of blood dot the ground from god-knows-what injuries Naim had sustained. Ryan peers into the darkness, trying to see where Naim went.
Part of him is still convinced that it's the entity, that it's something wearing Naim's face, conspiring to trick him into believing Naim is in danger. But he's still shaken by those screams. Raw and pained and absolutely horrifying, plenty agonizing enough to make Ryan lose some of his good sense. He glances back at the car, at the flashing orange hazard lights, at the slightly-open door, at the headlights illuminating the ground. He looks at the gravel, at the trail leading off into the shrubs and trees decorating the fields around the road. Fuck.
"Fuck." He curses to himself, heart still rabbiting in his chest. "Fuck." He looks out into the brush. "Fuck. S' so fuckin stupid gonna get myself killed goddammit." He mutters to himself as he walks along the faint path created by Naim's body dragging along the ground. He's chastising himself while he walks, because really? He fucking knows better. He does. He's alone, he left Naim in his house, told him that Ryan never wanted to see him again. Naim would respect that. He'd call Ryan, or his mum, before fucking running after a car. That'd be stupid. Stupid like Naim isn't, stupid like Ryan apparently is.
And maybe Ryan's okay with that. Maybe he's okay with being stupid when Naim is concerned, because he thinks Naim is a little stupid about him too. Maybe Ryan is the dumbest motherfucker alive because he thinks he's already halfway to forgiving Naim.
He just about jumps out of his skin as a gaggle of birds take off from a tree behind him, calling out in distress. He watches their small shapes against the sky for a moment before turning his gaze back to the landscape. It's dark, but the moon is almost full, and the light filters down through the cloudless sky.
"Naim?" He calls out quietly at first, when he loses track of the indent of a body being pulled through the grass. "Naim!" He repeats, louder. There's no response, just the quiet sound of wind pulling at the tree branches, the rustling of tall grass and shrubs. Goosebumps rise on Ryan's skin. It's quiet, so fucking quiet. There's not crickets, or bird calls, or even any dingoes stalking through the grasslands in front of him. Naim's not making any noise, and Ryan didn't waste that much time before going after him. His eyes dart across the landscape in front of him as he takes one stumbling step back, then another, and another, and then he's running, sprinting, arms pumping as he tries to get back to the car. And then Naim is in front of him, eyes flat and empty, and Ryan can't stop in time.
He crashes into the entity, falling back as it stands unmoving, staring down at him with detached interest. He scrambles backwards on his hands as it steps towards him, grabbing his hair in one hand. He yelps in pain, hands going to its wrist in an attempt to… well, he's not sure really, maybe stop it or remove the hand, but he can't do anything as it forces his face into the dirt, twisting his neck and torso painfully. He tries to push up onto his arms, but the thing adjusts its grip in his hair, pulling him off the ground far enough that his arms flail wildly, looking for any kind of leverage. It slams him back down onto the ground, the left side of his head contacting the hard-packed dirt with enough force his ears ring and his vision goes blurry.
Though, actually, as he realizes when it lifts his head up again, his vision is blurring because of the tears in his eyes. He feels separate from himself, detached as he watches the water hit the earth below him and soak into the dirt. Naim, or the thing wearing his face, slams his head down into the dirt, rubbing his cheek into the ground. He can feel small little rocks digging into his cheek, his ear, and he's glad that it's not shoving his right ear into the ground. If he survives this, he doesn't want to deal with that infection.
It picks him up once more, lifting him fully off the ground. He scrabbles at the hand holding his throat, cruelly squeezing his trachea. He stares down at Naim's face with his blurry vision, tries to catalogue the fine curve of his eyebrows, the tired downturn of his eyes, the pretty pout of his lips. The delicate fingers wrapping around his throat, again. He ignores the look in his eyes, all flat and cold and cruel and nothing like Naim. He hits the ground hard when Naim throws him, clutching at his chest while he scrambles to catch his breath and get to his feet. Naim stares at him for a moment before approaching slowly, each step purposeful and heavy.
He gets his feet under him and takes off without even looking back at Naim. When he's almost to the edge of the grassland, he looks back to find Naim still walking towards him, slowly and steadily. Somehow, he's keeping pace with Ryan's frantic run. Ryan gasps for air, throat raw and sore, eyes burning and cheek stinging. He hits the gravel at a frantic pace, small rocks flying up from under his feet as he runs for the car.
He wrenches the door open and locks it, leaning over the steering wheel to see if he can find Naim in the grass. There's nothing but empty plains, trees, long grass, and his own panicked breathing. Gone like he never existed. Ryan tries to breath slower, looking down at his shaking hands. He feels like a rabbit, or a lamb, heart beating out of his chest as he shakes and shakes and runs from threats like a defenseless animal. His mouth is dry as he turns off the hazards and double, triple checks the locks. He flicks on the turn signal and gets back onto the pavement of the road.
His ear throbs, and his cheek, and he knows there will be bruises on his neck in the shape of Naim's handprints. Awfully, selfishly, he's glad they're there. He hopes they heal slow, hopes the last marks Naim left on him stay long enough for him to appreciate them, for him to run his hands over the signs of violence and know it's because he cared too much. He doesn't want to see Naim again, but maybe he can want to remember him.
He leaves the car parked outside Hunter's house (because it's still Hunter's house, to him, and he doesn't think that will ever change), and leaves the keys to it on the porch. His house isn't far, but he runs the whole way anyways. He sees Naim a few times, staring at him from across the street, or sitting on rooftops, the malicious coldness of his stare like a physical weight on Ryan despite the distance. He sneaks into his house through the back door, fiddling with the broken lock until it clicks open. His parents are in their room, fast asleep, same as his siblings. No one is there to notice his return, just like they weren't there to notice his absence. He lays in bed with his own hand around his throat, tracing over the purpling skin in he shape of Naim's fingers, wishing, hoping, desperately that he and Naim had just stayed away.
Naim's agonized screams and terrified face chase him into his dreams, just like he knew they would.