Chapter Text
A few hours before, Ryan had been joking with Hunter, how whatever “healing” they would receive would just be some bullshit.
Now he sat in the backseat in his car, feeling nothing but numb. His parents drove silently. They never even asked if he was okay, even after what they’d seen him go through.
He wasn’t surprised. They had never really cared about his well-being. Hell, they weren’t even home half the time. Out working or getting drunk or going to a hotel to have sex with other people under a mutual agreement. True Christians right there. They could hardly stand each other sober, but apparently divorce was worse than infidelity. Not homosexuality, though. No, that was the worst sin of them all, wasn’t it? A kid killed herself at Ryan’s high school due to bullying from, you guessed it, the children of the church. And yet two guys fucking is where they draw the line.
Oh, Ryan could not wait to get out of this shithole.
They pulled into the driveway and headed inside without a word. It was near sunset, but Ryan didn’t feel like eating any dinner. Instead, he went straight to the shower. He was still covered in vomit and sweat, after all. Avoiding looking into the mirror at all costs, he stripped and stepped in. He turned the water on cold first, hoping it would help the internal burning sensation he felt. But on the outside, he was freezing cold, so he ended up turning it hot.
And then he scrubbed. He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed as if it could erase whatever they had done to him. It felt as if he was marked. Permanently stained. Tainted. He never wanted to feel what he had felt during that ritual ever again.
He didn’t get out until the water had turned cold. His body was red from the near-scalding hot water. His wet hair dripped down his neck and face. His hands were raw from trying desperately to rid himself of...well, he wasn’t quite sure what. But he still didn’t feel clean.
He wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the bathroom to find it was now dark outside. His parents were gone, leaving only a note reminding him to take out the bins before he went to bed. No time on when they’d get back. No “love you” or even “thank you.” Just an instruction that he was expected to follow.
And he did every time.
(Except the one that mattered).
Sighing, Ryan grabbed a protein bar as the ability to stomach food finally came back to him, and headed to his room for some fresh clothes. Then he was hurling the kitchen trash bag into their bin outside. It was routine. Normal.
What wasn’t normal was the sound of footsteps coming up his driveway.
He spun around to see Naim standing right on the edge between concrete and grass, looking hesitant and unsure.
Ryan had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. And yeah, that really was Naim standing there.
The Naim-Feeling came instantly.
The “Naim-Feeling” is pretty self-explanatory. It’s what Ryan named the strange swirling in his stomach and inexplicable racing heartbeat that occurred whenever he was with Naim. He didn’t know what it was, nor had he ever experienced it with anyone else before. The closest he came to feeling it with another person was Hunter, but it still was not nearly as intense.
Basically, Naim’s presence always made Ryan feel weird. It wasn’t an unpleasant weirdness, though, just confusing.
“Naim?” He spoke just loud enough for the other to hear. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of responding, Naim hurriedly retreated back into the dark street. Ryan’s body lurched, instinctively wanting to follow, but he repressed the urge. He had no idea as to why Naim came by, and he didn’t want to scare him off for good by being a creep.
(Though, in this situation, Naim would be the “creep,” considering he was lurking around somebody else’s house. But also, Ryan had just been seizing up and vomiting over some ritual just a few hours earlier so.... Maybe they were both creeps).
Whatever. Naim came and went. Time to move on.
Ryan headed back into his house to get some rest. He was expecting a Hellish experience at school the next day.
Though Ryan had been expecting it, it was impossible to actually prepare for the humiliation he’d endure.
Most people just gossiped around him in hushed voices not nearly quiet enough for him not to hear. Still, that was easy to ignore.
Hunter’s friend group? Not so much.
Since Hunter was the Pastor’s son, it was just about unanimously believed that he was a complete innocent. Any sin he had was purged, but not Ryan. No, Ryan was the sin; manipulating and grooming Hunter into unfathomable lust.
It was complete bullshit. But if everyone believed it to be, then it might as well be true.
It didn’t help that Ryan, even before the whole mess, had practically no friends. He kept to himself, minding his own business. And apparently that’s a trait of a psychopath, or something.
The point was: they were ruthless.
At first they stuck to shouting slurs and throwing some lunch food at him. But it quickly escalated once they realized they could get away with it. Because of course they could. None of the adults in the town cared. There was no way Mrs. Calley didn’t hear the “splat” followed by laughter. There was no way that, when she did turn around, she couldn’t connect the dots between two frogs being missing from across the room and Ryan’s face being covered in guts. She just would rather be an ignorant coward than actually standing up for anything.
The only reassuring presence that week was Naim. Though they had only a brief conversation in a convenience store, the new routine of Naim walking past Ryan’s house every night and pausing to make eye contact through the front window was like a safety net. The one thing Ryan could count on.
It was Saturday when Naim came by early instead, wanting to actually hangout.
Their “hangouts” were always a bit...aggressive. Not enough to leave deep bruises, but still.
Safe to say, Ryan was caught completely off-guard when Naim suggested they go to the nearby (and near-bankrupt!) ice-rink out of the blue.
“What?” Ryan needed to make sure he heard right.
Naim stepped closer until he was within touch. “Would you want to go to the ice-rink? We don’t have to skate, just, you know. Hang.”
Okay, Ryan. Be cool. Naim wants to “hang” with you at the ice-rink. Don’t fuck this up.
“Won’t there be people there? Are you sure you want to...you know, be seen with me?” Ryan had been to the ice rink a few times before. It was almost entirely empty every time he went. But Naim didn’t need to know that; he just needed to know that there could be people there. Ryan wanted to make absolutely sure Naim was willing to take that chance.
Naim looked up at him, eyes and smile bright in a way that made Ryan’s insides squirm. God, he was pathetic when he was around Naim. He just hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.
“No one really goes there, right?” Naim asked. “That’s what I’ve heard.”
Ryan nodded. “I guess, but—”
“So...” Naim glanced down at Ryan’s lips, then back up. “Let’s go.”
Ryan maintained composure, keeping a casual smile, despite his insides screaming giddily. It was, admittedly, quite the challenge.
He gestured with his head for Naim to follow and lead him through his small home and yard.
“What a gentlemen,” Naim quipped when Ryan held the gate open for him.
“Ah, shove it,” Ryan replied, teasingly shoving him with his hip.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying each other’s company. Ryan wished he could’ve stared at Naim’s intricate beauty of a face that whole time, but instead his eyes swept their surroundings rapidly. The last thing he wanted was for Naim to be outed too.
No one deserved to go through that ritual. Especially not Naim.
“Hey,” Ryan spoke, feeling comfortable enough that no one was around. “Why didn’t you say anything? That night in my backyard. Or, well, any night you’ve walked past, really. And why were you there, anyway?”
Naim was quiet for a moment, eyes on the ground. “After what happened...I was worried about you,” he said earnestly. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I guess I was just too... I don’t know, ashamed? Yeah, we’ll go with that. I was too ashamed to speak to you. It’s stupid, I know.”
As he spoke, they were getting closer and closer to the rink’s building. Ryan’s stomach sank some.
“Hey, I get it. It’s not stupid. We can go back to my place if you want. I know no one will be there. I’ve gone a few times and have only ever seen a max of five people. Otherwise it’s practically empty. But still. If there’s a chance someone—”
“Ryan,” Naim shut him up. “I want to have fun with you, okay? No one will see us.”
Ryan forced himself to relax as they entered the building. He didn’t get to glance around much before Naim led them straight to the photo booth.
It was a bit strange. Ryan didn’t think Naim had ever been to the rink before. But Ryan didn’t know everything about Naim.
(Even if he wished he did).
The booth was cramped; thighs and shoulders pressed together. Ryan pretended to be completely normal about this as he pressed the screen to start the pictures.
He turned to find Naim already looking at him. He swallowed, nervous.
A flash.
Naim put a hand on Ryan’s chest, tugging slightly at the shirt.
A flash.
“You want me to...?” Ryan asked, unsure.
Naim nodded.
A flash.
Ryan pulled the shirt over his head.
A flash.
Naim leaned forward, not making any move to remove his own shirt.
“Are you going to do it too?” Ryan asked softly, not wanting Naim to feel pressured. “It’s just me.”
“I know,” Naim whispered, his face so close that Ryan could feel his breath against his lips.
A flash.
Ryan felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest as their mouths collided.
A flash.
He brought his hand up to cup Naim’s face as they deepened the kiss. He pulled himself forward, trying to get as close as possible.
A flash.
One of Naim’s arms was under Ryan’s own, grasping at his bare back. The other crept down from his cheek to rest on the side of his neck.
A flash.
That was the last of the photos. Ryan knew that the longer they stayed the more at risk they became from someone discovering him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted to stay there forever. Tasting Naim like he was starved, pulling him in until he was all consumed.
And then Naim’s fingers scratched Ryan’s back. It wasn’t light or accidental. His nails ran deep; deeper than they naturally should have.
Ryan felt something wet run down his back and a sting of pain he couldn’t ignore.
He pulled away. “What are you—”
He wasn’t able to finish as Naim lifted him by the neck and slammed him into the wall, choking and, by extension, silencing him.
All Ryan could do was gag and watch as Naim looked at him with nothing but determination. It made no sense. Not just because Naim had never been an overly violent person before, but because it should’ve been physically impossible for him to do so. Just a few weeks before he struggled to lift a pipe, and now suddenly he could hold Ryan up with one hand with ease?
Someone—Ryan couldn’t see who—yanked open the booth curtain, thankfully causing Naim to let go and flee, pushing whoever Ryan’s savior was away.
Ryan didn’t waste any time. Taking a gulp of air through his burning throat, he grabbed his shirt and ran.
It was disorienting. It was as if a dozen people had suddenly come in. He kept running into people, who looked confused and concerned, when his eyes finally landed on an exit connected to the skating area.
He ran, but Naim was close behind, calling his name. Ryan got to the door in time, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
And in a fit of impatience, anger, and inability to escape, Ryan turned to face Naim, backing away.
“Stop following me!” He screamed, not allowing Naim’s glossy, scared eyes affect him anymore than they already had.
“Ryan—”
“Stop doing this! Stop coming by my house!” People were staring. Ryan didn’t care anymore.
Naim pointed to the direction of the booth. “What was that?”
What the fuck?!
Ryan could not believe him. Was he seriously asking that?
“You! It was you!”
Naim’s eyebrows creased in confusion. Was he actually out of his mind? There’s no way somebody could just forget about choking someone moments earlier.
No, he didn’t forget. He was putting up a front. People were watching, after all. Of course he wouldn’t want to incriminate himself.
Fucking typical. To think Ryan was naive enough to trust Naim. To think he found someone who wouldn’t hurt him.
He took a shaking breath and forced himself to take a step forward.
“Please don’t make me tell them about you, too.” He spoke quietly so no one around them would hear, hoping his eyes emphasized his plea.
With that, he stormed out the doors.
And then he ran.
His parents weren’t home, of course. Ironically, Ryan was thankful for their negligence. He didn’t want to explain the bruises around his neck or scratches on his back to them.
Though, to be honest, they probably wouldn’t even care to ask in the first place.
Ryan locked himself in the bathroom to look himself over. The scratches had stopped bleeding, but they’d definitely leave a mark for at least a few days. He figured he should at least try to clean them though.
Retrieving the rubbing alcohol from under the sink, he sat on the edge of the tub and awkwardly lifted his arm to pour it down his back. He winced as it stung. He then stood back up and grabbed antibiotic cream and a cotton swab.
If pouring the alcohol was awkward, then the task of rubbing antibiotics in was nightmarish. He could just barely pull his arm over enough to reach the wound.
Honestly, he might’ve missed the wound completely, but it would have to do. He’d just have to hope it wouldn’t get infected.
Placing a bandage on it also wasn’t fun. By the time he was all finished, his arm ached from the strain he put it through.
He looked into the mirror. His neck wore a suspiciously hand-shaped bruise. It was deep purple. Ryan didn’t think he’d ever forget just how hard Naim grasped at him.
Naim.
Why would Naim do something like that? How did he do it? Did Ryan do something wrong? He must have. Ryan was always fucking up. He ruined things.
Deciding he couldn’t do much about the bruises, he finally left the bathroom and headed to his room. Homophobia ran rampant in the town. No one would bat an eye at the gay boy being bruised.
He put on a clean shirt and laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of what happened. He laid there unmovingly for a while until there was a knock at his front door. Begrudgingly, he got up.
He went to the door and peered through the peep hole. No one was there. He checked the front window, and there Naim was, in all his horrific glory.
He just stood there across the street. Staring. Ryan couldn’t take his eyes off him. His chest tightened in an unnatural mix of terror and deep desire.
And then the car drove past, and he was gone.
A knock on the door.
Absolutely not.
Ryan rushed back to his bedroom. Whatever fucked-up game Naim was playing with him, he wanted no part in it.
Though, admittedly... it didn’t make any sense. Naim had looked just as confused and scared as Ryan at the rink. Of course, that could’ve been acting for the crowd, but still. None of this seemed in-character for Naim.
Maybe he had gone crazy. That’s why he was acting so erratic.
Or maybe...
Ryan thought back to the ritual. At the time, he didn’t think it was anything but a load of bullshit to make people believe they’d actually been “healed.” But now...
No. That’s ridiculous. And even if it did have something to do with this whole situation, why Naim? Naim wasn’t outed. Naim hadn’t done anything.
Maybe Ryan was the one that had gone crazy. That seemed the most plausible.
That’s what Ryan had convinced himself—he was crazy. That was until Hunter’s funeral, Naim screaming about being attacked, and running off horrified and confused.
And that’s when Ryan finally knew that the church, including their own parents, had sentenced them both to death.
They were now nothing more than lambs to the slaughter.