Archive of Our Own

Ryan learnt to live in silence. And when he was done with silence, pain always took its place. 

His parents rarely acknowledged him. He wasn’t an exceptional kid, never won anything, wasn’t the most athletic kid, no talents, no ambitions. Nothing. They never bothered with another kid after him either. Their silence was subtle, muffling, more a pinprick than anything. 

Hunter’s silence was different. They rarely talked. Even up till the moment they started… hanging out? If he could even call it that. In the quiet of the classroom, the hallway, his backyard, Hunter’s silence bore into him like a blunt knife. Or, well, stone throwing. Ryan thought it was how they showed their liking to each other, a claim only they knew about. He used to gently circle over the marks. He didn’t know why. Maybe he was trying to comfort himself—or Hunter—from the silence they both lived in. 

Would this be all his life, his love would amount to? His mother used to tell him how expressive he was, that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Another way of saying he held too much in his heart that it constantly spilled over. Not a good thing, by the way. Bandi taught him that. He wasn’t religious by any means, but sometimes he’d pray that this wasn’t it. And just briefly, he thought maybe God did exist. In those nature-reflecting eyes. 

Naim was like a dove, gliding into his life with an olive branch and a promise of something new. When he walked into class, all unbrushed hair and an oversized uniform that engulfed him, Ryan knew he was gone. For the first time in his life, the silence felt less suffocating. Trying to catch glimpses of Naim was his desperate plea to fill the silence in his life with something other than pain, to pour out some of his overflowing emotions into something other than his silent tears. Naim emerging without prompting wasn’t part of the plan.

“Got something on my face?” 

Ryan cleared his throat and finished pushing the already partially open bathroom door. “No, sorry bout that. Just needed to piss.” 

He walked to a urinal with confident—or so he hoped—strides and unbuckled his pants. From behind, he heard the sink turn on, but nothing else. “Hm~ I didn’t quite ask, did I?” Ryan had finished and was turning around when Naim’s response came. Naim met his gaze through the mirror, and he couldn’t help but grin. “No. No you didn’t.” 

Naim’s silence was like the first breath after drowning. No pain, just relief. And when he didn’t need silence, it was always filled with yelps from suppressed jabs, the clatter of abandoned things as they fought playfully, or the exhale of a shared cigarette. Then it was filled with Naim’s hand intertwined in blonde curls as he pulled Ryan closer. The only other time the silence wasn’t so deafening was when he and Hunter kissed. It was all clattering teeth and rough breathing that filled the silence. Not this. The longer he stayed with Naim, the more he learnt that his silence didn’t have to be filled with pain. Until it did. 

The wind blew harshly at the bus stop. He shoved his hands into his pockets, curling his head deeper into his jacket. The wind that did swoop into the hood of his jacket gripped around his neck. How could he have been so naive? Of course the Naim in that photobooth wasn’t his. When ‘Naim’ got rougher the longer they stayed in that booth, all Ryan could think about was how he would never be hurt if it was under Naim’s touch. So, he let it happen. Even when the silence he had become too familiar with started pricking, then stabbing, before the air in his lungs stalled. He should have known.

“Why the fuck is the bus taking so long?” He swore into the wind. It had only been 10 minutes at most since he'd arrived at the bus station. 

When Izzie revealed it was Naim who had told about him and Hunter, he knew right then and there he was getting out of that fucking town. There was never a God, just people who do what they think is right. Because of Naim, the silence he thought he had to endure became painless. He would be damned if he let this town, this fucking curse, take the one good thing he has. So, yeah. He left. Once he was out, whenever he saw it, he would know it wasn’t his Naim. Nothing that happened after he was out of Bandi would corrupt his memories of Naim because he wouldn’t be there. Telling Naim it would never be him was his final word of advice. 

Ryan blinked a couple of times, stopping the tears that were welling up in his eyes. From the wind or the fact that he probably would never see Naim again, he wasn’t quite sure. He knew he should be more pissed about the situation. Naim ratted them out. But how could he have known the hell the deliverance healer would put them through? The same hell Naim was going through. Naim couldn’t have known how fucked up the town was. Ryan couldn't stay mad at Naim even if he tried, and he really did try. When he pulled up at Naim's house, he tried to keep his eyes on the road, to avoid looking at those dirt-brown eyes that he knew were glossed over by tears. Good was all he thought because maybe if he pushed Naim away, it would keep him safer. 

Hovering white dots in the distance told him the bus was pulling up soon. When he closed his eyes, cold air filled his lungs with a sting. Upon opening his eyes, it stood across the road. His exhale faltered. It was weird how he couldn't bring himself to be afraid. If he were to never see his dove, the one who purified him of this poisonous town with gentle love, he might as well take the next best thing. Funny how a second ago, all he wanted was the bus to arrive faster. Now, all he wanted was for the bus to get out of his way. Without thinking, his body was already turning; maybe his body would always inadvertently yearn for Naim. Before he could take a step, ‘Naim’ appeared from the front of the bus. Seeing him just a meter away made his chest warm with hope, even if it wasn't him. As the passengers on the bus started getting off, it kept standing there. Even after every passenger that needed to get off had gotten off, he was still there. Maybe it was how the wind brushed through the brown locks that Ryan had grown to like, or the emotion behind those glassy, brown eyes, but he had a hunch. That he wouldn’t have to be afraid of drowning again.  

“Please tell me it's really you.”

Naim's eyes softened. The small nod he gave was all Ryan needed.

~☆~

There were plenty of empty seats in the back. Rows and rows of them, to be exact, but neither of them felt the need to travel further than they had to. They chose a pair of seats tucked a couple of rows behind the driver. As the vast Australian landscape sped by them, there was a slight stillness in the air between them. Knowing they wouldn’t be alone on this new trek made them ecstatic, but they had so much to unpack. Neither made a move to say anything. 

Partway through the ride, Ryan tugged his earphones loose from under all the things he packed. A couple of t-shirts, toothbrush, toothpaste, charger, the money he’d saved mowing lawns since he was ten, and a red-blue hoodie that Naim liked because it reminded him of Spiderman. 

“You hate spiders.” Naim wrinkled his face, trying to conjure an explanation.

“I don’t hate them. They just… have too many–” he waved his arms, unable to find the remaining words. Ryan laughed, questioning what he was doing. “Limbs, eyes, hair. Everything! There’s too much of everything,” Naim exclaimed. That only served to make Ryan laugh harder, throwing his head back a little. Naim crossed his arms across his chest with a slight pout. “Don’t laugh so hard, you cunt.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Ryan stopped, but his grin never left. He tilted his head onto his shoulder, surveying Naim’s stern figure up and down. “So why do you like Spiderman? Doesn’t he have too much ‘everything’?” He heard Naim mumble how fucking small was this town. Pulling out his phone from his school bag, he searched for what Ryan believed was Spiderman. They were shoulder-to-shoulder in the mill as Naim educated Ryan on who Spiderman was. 

Ryan glanced over to Naim looking out the window. There would be times during the ride where Ryan could feel Naim’s breath halt, body still, as if he were holding his breath for something. He had an idea why. He slowly nudged Naim’s arm until he tugged his eyes away from the window to look at Ryan. Naim took the right earphone offered to him, the electronic music flowing into his ear. They settled back into the silence. Not like theirs, but it was getting there. After a while, Naim turned back to look at Ryan, examining his relaxed figure. Feeling the eyes on him, one eye opened, questioning Naim. He just took it as an invitation and dropped his head on Ryan’s shoulder to curl into his warmth. He felt Ryan return the favor, a kiss ghosting over the raw spot left by ‘Ryan’ the night before. 

When Naim gained consciousness again, he felt something cold hug his cheek. Blinking his eyes a couple of times, his brain told him that the cold was just Ryan’s rings on his cheek. “...Hm?” He groggily lifted his head to meet Ryan’s eyes. 

“It’s the final stop, dove. We need to get off.” Ryan helped Naim slide out of the seats that had housed them for a day. Gripping each other's hands for reassurance in the empty bus, he let Naim go first. When they stepped out of the bus, gravel crunched under their beaten runners. “The driver said there was a motel nearby.” Naim looked over his shoulder, face scrunching in confusion. Ryan answered with a shrug, “She passed by us while she was checking the backseats and pointed it out.” Ryan watched Naim pull away, no doubt picking at the skin around his nails. A nervous habit Ryan had watched countless times. He looped his arm over Naim's shoulders. “Come on, we'll figure it out on the way, yeah?”

Naim opted to play with Ryan's rings on the hand that dangled over his shoulder, but when more buildings and roadlights started showing up, he just held the hand. The motel had… character. The bright neon sign was hurting both their eyes, but it also brought some sense of relief. Ryan did most of the talking while Naim hovered behind him, a hand pinching some excess fabric on Ryan's jacket. Cheapest room the motel had to offer was a single bed attached to a cubicle washroom. Before he could say anything, Ryan had dug out his wallet and paid. “I could have paid for my half.” His wallet lay heavy in the inner chest pocket his windbreaker had. Naim didn't have much, considering it was a last-minute decision to leave his mum. All he had was maybe a hundred or two from his job back in Adelaide, before his mum moved them. He remembered staring at her wallet, wondering if he should take a couple of 20s. He didn't. 

“It's alright. I had enough anyway.”

Ryan dropped his bag beside the door, along with his jacket. Naim followed along, just peeling off his windbreaker before going further in, peeking into the washroom. “Jeez, the tub’s dirty as shit,” Naim scrunched his nose at the amount of dark spots surrounding the tub. Ryan offered to take a shower first if he was too scared of black dots. His remark got him a hard shove and glare with no real heat behind it. Lying on their bed, Naim listened to the running water coming from the small gap Ryan left with closed eyes. A knock woke him up. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at the door. Soft chatter came from behind it. He couldn’t catch much, but he heard the worker who got them the room and…

“Mum?” Curiosity made him shuffle off the bed. Making his way to the crack in the curtains of the window beside the door, he tried to spot where the voices were coming from. The room they got was beside the front desk, so he hoped he could catch sight of something. When a shadow blocked his view, he couldn’t act fast enough. 

Glass shattered, and a hand encased his throat. “Holy shit!” Hands shot up to claw at the foreign hand blocking his airway. As the hand lifted him off the ground, the curtains shifted. Bloodshot blue eyes observed him. 

A door slammed open, ghost hands shaking him awake. “Wake up Naim, wake up!” Gasping awake, Naim sat up so quickly Ryan barely had time to lean back in order to prevent their heads from hitting. “What the hell.” Naim stared at Ryan, at those blue eyes that were so devoid of emotion, now filled with nothing but worry and fear. “What the hell–”

“You were having a nightmare.” Ryan reasoned. 

Naim couldn’t seem to slow down his breathing. “I feel crazy, I feel crazy!” He choked out. 

Ryan’s grip on Naim’s arm tightened slightly. “You’re alright, Naim. Just breathe.” 

“Fuck you! Nothing’s alright.” That made Ryan take a step back. “Ever since we left, we’ve barely spoken; we don’t even have a plan for where the hell we’re gonna go–” Ryan was sure he was soaking the motel’s carpet by now. “I’m fucking terrified, Ryan. I’m scared my mum is gonna appear out of nowhere and drag me back to that hellhole. I’m scared that thing will take my life when I'm not looking. Or worse, it kills you and I have to learn to survive without you.” They honestly wouldn’t be surprised if someone knocked on their door right then and told them to shut it. “Fuck– fuck… I’m scared.”  He’d stopped taking in air so fast, but his outburst left him breathless. 

“And you don’t think I’m scared,” Naim observed the way the shower water slid down Ryan’s hair and dripped onto the floor. “I was fucking terrified in the photobooth when I thought there was no way you could hurt me. I was terrified when Hunter turned up dead. It scared me to leave everything behind. To leave you. Then you showed up, and we ran away together, and that petrified me too.” Ryan was shaking at this point, tears flowing down his cheeks like a waterfall. Naim felt out-of-place; he had never seen Ryan cry. “What if I lose you, Naim? What if Jessica was right, and my selfish desire to keep you around just ends up killing you? I can’t lose you. I can’t…” He inhaled hard like he wanted to fill his lungs up until they burst. That’s when Naim got off the bed and hugged Ryan. Habitually, he curled into the haven of Naim’s neck, breathing in his scent. 

“You won’t lose me. I swear to you.” Naim whispered the promise into wet locks, kissing the scarring tissue on Ryan’s ear so gently. Such a great contrast to the ‘Naim’ that bit him. They stood there for a while. Just breathing each other in, feeling their hearts beat. “Ryan…” They finally pulled apart. “I’m sorry.” 

He started shaking his head. “No, Naim–”

“I’m sorry for yelling. I’m sorry for tattling on you and Hunter. That wasn’t my secret to tell.” Naim was a coward. He was self-aware enough to admit it, especially when he couldn’t even meet Ryan’s eyes. Ryan sighed, and the warmth of one of his arms left Naim’s waist, rising to his chin. He heard Ryan firmly tell him to look at him, so he did. 

A small smile formed when Naim looked up at him. “I was so angry at you for what you did,” Naim cringed. “But I know I can't blame you for it. You couldn’t have known.” His eyes teared a little: how could he forgive him so easily? As if Ryan could read his mind, he replied, “Trust me, I tried to stay angry at you when I dropped you off at your house.” He took a pause. “Who knew a glance at that ass was all I needed to stop being mad.” Naim gaped at Ryan’s shit-eating grin and pushed him away when he felt a pinch on his ass. 

“You’re such a dickhead.” 

“I’m your dickhead.” 

“Hm~” 

“Do you have to think about it?” 

It was Naim’s turn to smirk. “Yes.”

“Alright, you little shit.” 

~☆~

When Naim had stripped to take a shower, Ryan sucked in a shaky breath from where he had settled on the washroom floor. After he dried his hair a little more and put on one of his t-shirts, Naim asked him if he could be in the washroom as he showered. Who was Ryan to reject? 

“Naim… Where– when did this happen?” Ryan’s hands hovered over the bruises littering Naim’s body. He had caught a glimpse of them—the ones on his neck—on the bus, so he had a feeling what made them. He didn’t think they would be this… bad. Naim glanced at the mirror and winced. It did look pretty bad. A couple of dark bruises covered his back and travelled undoubtedly to his chest and waist, one on the side of his stomach, and some circling his wrists and ankles. “Was it after I… dropped you home?” His silence was answer enough. “Fuck.” 

“It’s ok Ryan. They don’t even hurt that much.” Naim gripped the hovering hands from continuing to obsess over his body. 

“I thought I was protecting you.” A sarcastic laugh left his mouth. “How could I be so stupid?”

“You couldn’t have known,” Naim repeated Ryan’s words back at him. 

He shook his head. “I should have.” 

Naim wasn’t the greatest at comforting, so he just smacked him. That snapped the broken look on his face. “Stop it, you didn't even create them.” 

“It might as well have been me. It had my face.” Naim would have smacked him again if it weren’t for the genuine fear on Ryan’s face. 

“But it wasn’t you, Ryan.” Before Ryan could say something, Naim cut him off. “You could never hurt me, Ryan. Never. I know that, and you know that too.” And Ryan did know that. Instinctively, before he even knew how much he yearned for Naim, he was always protecting him. Taking the brunt of the fall when they fought, glancing around the hospital for anything dangerous while trailing Naim, hell, even going back to Hunter was a way of protection. After knowing how much he longed for the gentle way Naim loved, he was scared his feelings would somehow corrupt Naim. Riling up Hunter was his way of punishing himself, he guessed. Look where that ended. 

Naim could tell that Ryan was deep in thought. “You could leave your own bruises if you’d like.” 

He choked, “Naim, what?” 

An eyebrow raised, the offer still stood. Ryan was but an overflowing jar of love. With affection replacing his fear, he started doting kisses on all the bruises he could reach while still holding Naim close. No more bruises; there were enough of those. Hands clasped under his jaw, dragging him back up to Naim’s lips for a sweet kiss. 

“Alright, let me shower sap.”

Ryan settled on the toilet, tracing the outline of the blob that was Naim on the shower curtain. Once the shower was finished, Naim would stick his arm out from behind the curtain and ask for something with a grabby hand. A towel, then a shirt, then Ryan’s hand so he didn’t slip and break his head on the tub. Seeing Naim in his shirt made him a little more elated than he’d like to admit. Naim could probably tell with the amount of pecks Ryan placed around his face. Like a fly, he swatted at Ryan before curling into the blanket of their shared bed. Ryan followed after, his warmth wafting around Naim. It was awfully domestic considering the situation they were in. They couldn’t help but wish they could stay like this forever. 

~☆~

Ryan woke up first. He had always been an early bird, much to people’s surprise. Rubbing his eyes, he got up to take a piss, making sure to leave the door open. When he got back under their blanket, he just inspected Naim’s sleeping figure. The rise and fall of his chest, the way his limbs were kind of everywhere, and the small puddle of drool on the pillow that Ryan was definitely going to bully him about later. He took a long exhale. They couldn’t stay here forever; they needed a plan. 

“I always wanted to go to Melbourne.”

Ryan tilted his head at the answer. “Really?”

Naim nodded. “Yeah, the art there is beautiful, and the city is quite lively.” 

“You’ve been?” Naim nodded again with a puff of smoke. 

“It was back when my dad was still around, and mum wasn’t so… into all this religious crap.” Sensing a need for a shift, Ryan took the cigarette from Naim's fingers and asked him what he liked about the art. “There were a ton of cool compositions, though it was mostly street art. I’m more of a painter, so I dunno if I can really judge.” 

Ryan hummed at that. “You should show me sometime.” He heard the lazy response from Naim. 

He handed the cigarette over when Naim wordlessly asked for it. “What about you? I've seen you doodle; I'm guessing you draw.” 

“I dabble.” Nothing was inherently funny, but Naim chuckled around the smoke. “Maybe I'll show you some if you promise to paint me like a French boy one day.” 

“Huh… sure. When we get to Melbourne.”

“When we get to Melbourne?” 

Naim leaned closer to give Ryan the cigarette back. “Hm, when we get to Melbourne.” 

“Ok.” They grinned into the kiss, the promise sealed in the smoke. 

Ryan felt the blanket move and glanced to his side. Naim had woken up, stretching upwards before patting the bed. When his hand landed on Ryan's thigh under the blanket, he could see Naim physically relax. "What're you looking at?” His voice slurred a little. 

“Bus tickets to Melbourne.” 

Naim sobered up from sleep upon the name. “That’s gonna be a long ride.” 

Ryan shrugged, “I always wanted to get out of that town, go somewhere far away. Just never had the courage until you.” Naim looked at him in a way that could only be described as pure, unconditional devotion. “You also mentioned you wanted to go; what better time than the present?” Naim snuggled into Ryan’s side, adding his own two cents on which buses and routes they could take. 

When check-out time came around, they had a decent route planned, one that used the minimum amount of money. With only one toothbrush, Ryan patiently waited for Naim to finish brushing his teeth before stepping around him when Naim handed him the toothbrush. From the mirror, he could see Naim walking around their room, packing up their stuff—Ryan’s mainly—to stuff into the bag. He mentally noted that he should get Naim his own bag. It would be beneficial for both of them anyway. 

The bus rides passed by in a blur. Their asses ached from sitting on the chairs for so long, even with the occasional gas stops. The first time they had a stop, Ryan had been asleep. They liked switching seats, allowing them both to enjoy the window. Naim didn’t have the heart to wake the sleeping figure, so he left with the others to get them some food and water. When he came back, Ryan was nowhere to be seen. Dumping everything on their seats, he ran back out. He definitely pissed some people off on the way, but he couldn’t care less. All he could think about was finding Ryan. 

He found him near the back of the bus, flailing in the hands of their curse. Gripping the lighter in his right pocket, he flicked it on and shoved it into what he hoped was ‘his’ face. He couldn’t hear anything, but Ryan dropped, looking distraught at whatever was in front of him. Naim didn’t let him stay there long, grabbing him by the arm before racing into the bus. Onlookers gazed at them curiously when they climbed onto the bus out of breath. Naim apologized to the driver for waiting and guided Ryan back into his window seat. He quickly shoved the things he had bought into the bag before taking a seat. Ryan was still trying to catch his breath. 

“Naim,” his head turned to face Ryan, his heart still ramming into his ribs, “What the hell was that?”

Naim twisted the lighter in his hands. “It’s scared of fire. When you left, and I got… attacked, the only thing that made it recoil was fire.”  

On the next stop, they went down together and bought three of the cheap lighters the gas station offered. After that moment, they promised each other they would wake the other up, and if not a lot of people were going down, they’d go down together. The system worked, and they eventually went off the bus for the last time. The station was bustling. Trains breezed by and crowds of people were walking in every direction. Ryan gripped Naim’s hand harder with every bump from another stranger. They asked the workers at the directory where the nearest motel was. The guy stared at them, but responded with directions. Thanking the man, they started heading to the motel. 

Ryan could see what Naim meant by the art being beautiful. On the way, they passed a couple of streets and buildings covered in graffiti art. Some were paintings of animals, abstract ideas, and people. One painting dedicated to pride caught his eye. Before they made it to the motel, Ryan gently tugged at Naim's hand. When Naim went to look at what caught Ryan’s attention, he was already being dragged to a small art store. Despite his protests, Ryan bought him some paints and a sketchbook, the ones with thicker pages to prevent the paint from leaking onto other pages. They couldn’t fit them into Ryan’s bag, but he promised he’d get Naim a bag of his own. On the barren street, no one batted an eye when Naim gave him a quick peck as thanks. The room they got from the motel was on the second floor this time. They kept the bathroom door fully open. The first order of business for the morning was finding jobs. 

Naim found a job quicker than Ryan. Most places wouldn’t hire both of them, so they started splitting up. The lighters they bought lay a comfortable weight in their pockets. Naim found a job at a laundromat, owned by a sweet old Asian couple. They were definitely skeptical of him at first, but they could see that he needed a job. He made sure to work hard in hopes of proving himself to them. 

Ryan found a job working as a mechanic a few weeks later. The manager was a middle-aged man with a bunch of tattoos. Ryan could feel his walls go back up when he stepped inside. Despite the scary exterior caused by the man’s history in jail, he had flipped his life around, trying to help people. When he saw Ryan, he had a feeling the boy needed help. Of course, he sat Ryan down for an interview of sorts, making sure the boy was really up for the job. Ryan didn’t quite know why the man offered him the job so confidently, but he was glad. 

Running on the high of finally landing a job, he accidentally frightened Naim when he was closing for his shift. When his back was turned, he snuck up on Naim. He didn’t mean it, but he should have known—with their history—that it was a bad idea. 

“Ow! When the fuck did you learn to punch?” Ryan gripped his jaw, moving it around. Naim had his back pressed up to the glass door, hand already in his pocket. When he saw the way Ryan doubled over, he instinctively began to reach for him. Fear held him back. He had been alone for some time now; the fact that the entity didn’t appear once made him skittish. Ryan could see Naim’s hesitance and offered his arm. Naim quickly clicked the lighter on, the flame nicking the smooth part of Ryan’s arm. Once Naim could see Ryan wasn’t going to recoil, he hurriedly stuffed the lighter back in his jacket and reached for where the flame touched. He let Naim fuss; it wasn’t his fault to be skeptical of everything. Practically burning each other wasn’t the best solution, but it was a solution, one that had kept them safe so far. Ryan watched fondly when Naim kissed where the flame touched—no scar this time—before he was smacked again. 

“You fucking cunt! Why’d you sneak up on me?” Naim yelled, arms crossed.

“I got the job,” Ryan replied sheepishly. Naim’s original expression dropped, replaced with joy. 

“Really?” Ryan chuckled, leaning in to kiss Naim. “Yeah, dove, I got it.” 

As promised, Ryan used his first paycheck to buy Naim a bag. The art supplies that he had were stashed away in that bag within minutes. 

Even though they were still living in a dingy motel and had the embodiment of hate wearing their faces tap on their window every night, they’ve never been happier.  

~☆~

They’d been living in the motel for a while now, and it was great… but it wasn’t where they wanted to live forever. They wanted to save their money for a while before looking for vacancies in the apartments nearby. One day, while Naim was eating a sandwich he’d made for himself and Ryan that morning, the wife of the Asian couple took a peek over his shoulder. When she found out that Naim was apartment hunting, she said one of her friends had a daughter who was moving from her apartment. Naim sent a quick text to Ryan, notifying him about the apartment. The showing revealed a one-bedroom apartment with some holes in the wall and secretly broken cabinets—Ryan could fix that. The location was near a park and close to both their jobs. It was perfect. They put in an offer right after the showing. In a week's time, the place was theirs. 

The daughter who originally rented the apartment was moving overseas, so most of the large pieces of furniture remained. They got a bed, desk, couch, and an assortment of chairs left to them. The rest of the space they would fill up with time. When they walked into the apartment with their bulging bags, Naim was rocking on his feet while Ryan just took it all in. This was their home now. Their home. They wasted no time unpacking their stuff. On their first night in a proper bed, they were still taking everything in; how far they had made it all by themselves. Ryan had his arms around Naim’s waist while Naim’s hand combed through blonde hair. No entity appeared to tap on their window.

“What do you think our future is going to look like?” 

Ryan moved his head from where it was buried in Naim’s chest. “I dunno. I’m good with just having you by my side.” 

Naim laughed softly into Ryan’s hair. “You’re such a sap.” 

“What bout you?”

Naim thought for a moment. “I think I want to go back to school.” 

Ryan made a move, letting Naim know that he wanted to sit up. Naim let him. “Yeah?” He softly questioned. 

“There was a good arts university in my hometown. I always thought I would end up there.” 

“You should go.” 

Naim stuttered, “What? Ryan, I can’t–” 

Ryan shook his head. “Not now. Later. When we have enough money.” 

He scoffed, “I can’t just go back to Adelaide and study art. You’d be the only one working to support both of us.” 

“So what? I would work day and night if it meant you were happy. If you want to go to Adelaide and get a degree, I’ll support you.” Naim was taken aback by the sincerity and certainty in Ryan’s voice. “To pay me back, you can get a fancy job with your fancy degree, so I can be a house husband.” 

Naim stuck to the word ‘husband’. “Husband? Already planning on marrying me, huh?” 

Ryan’s chuckle was breathy. “You know it,” he replied while reaching for the back of Naim’s neck. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t like that,” Ryan mumbled in between the kisses he planted on Naim’s jaw. Naim groaned. To be frank, he really would like that. Being able to call Ryan his husband, to come home and hold him for the rest of their lives. Damn the entity, damn Bandi, he’d fucking love it. 

“Sap.” Naim teased. He heard a hum in response as Ryan slid lower on Naim’s torso. 

~☆~

Naim loved Ryan. He really did. Ryan was honestly the only person he needed in his life. 

So why did he still miss his mum? 

After everything she had done: moved them to bucktooth nowhere, handed him over to the deliverance healer even when she knew what would happen, left him all alone even when he begged. He should hate her. He does hate her. But… he also loved her. The woman who raised him, picked the olives off his pizza, stayed with him when he had a nightmare, taught him how to paint. Even after his dad died, he saw how his mum tried to continue for him. The church was her way of easing the pain, her haven. It just wasn’t Naim’s. Sometimes he would stare at his mum’s number, debating calling her just to see how she was. When those nights happened, Ryan would have to turn off Naim’s phone for him and take him to bed. He hadn’t told Ryan about any of it yet, but Ryan knew. They knew each other better than they knew themselves sometimes. 

Tonight, the universe seemed to decide for Naim. 

They were cooking dinner, spaghetti with tomato sauce. Naim was mixing the sauce when they heard knocking. “I’ll get it,” Ryan offered, detaching himself from Naim’s waist. He could hear the lock click and the door open. That he expected. What he didn’t expect was Ryan’s hostile voice. “What are you doing here?” He turned the stove to low before stepping away.

“Who is it?” Naim peeked into the little hallway that connected the kitchen to their front door. 

“Naim.” 

He stood frozen a meter behind Ryan. He couldn’t see the figure standing at the door due to Ryan blocking his view, but he knew that voice. 

“Mum.” 

Ryan reluctantly stepped to the side to let Naim see. He knew it would serve Naim well to see his mother. 

“How have you been?” His mother sounded like she was going to cry. Naim felt like he was going to. She had grown old. Older than what Naim expected. She looked tired. 

“What are you doing here? How did you find us?” The memories of what she did kept him from stepping forward and hugging her. The interrogation made Arlene fidget with her fingers. A nervous habit that Naim inherited. 

“I can explain if you let me in.” They stayed rooted to their spots. “Please.” Hearing the desperation in his mother’s voice, he stepped back. Ryan—who had been watching the ordeal—sighed and let Arlene inside. She whispered a small thank you to Ryan. Naim told his mother to settle on the kitchen island while Ryan shut off the stove. They probably weren’t going to eat for a while. Without a word, Ryan passed a cup of water to Arlene. She accepted it with another whispered thank you. 

“Explain.” 

She gripped the cup a little tighter. “When you left, all I could think about was how I had lost my little boy. You were all I had left, and then you were gone.” 

Naim wanted to cringe away. Ryan’s comforting hand on his back helped. “You should have thought about that when you invited the deliverance healer into our house.” 

Arlene did cringe. “I was trying to protect you.” Naim’s stare hardened. “I now understand how wrong I was.” Surprise radiated off of both Naim and Ryan. “I was so lost after your father died. I couldn’t help clinging to the church for comfort until I couldn’t even recognize when my own son was hurting.” He willed his eyes to stop tearing up. 

“How did you find us?” He repeated. 

“I hired a private detective–” 

“Mum.” 

Arlene dropped her head in shame. “I just wanted to know where you went. I wanted to know if you were ok.” Her voice wobbled with tears. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. I couldn’t lose you.” Like your father was left unsaid. 

Naim was starting to think he couldn’t do this. “You could have done that at a distance. You didn't have to come here.”

He felt Ryan’s thumb rub over his back, a soft it's alright dove whispered in his ear when his breath stuttered. “If you’re trying to drag him back–” Ryan started without looking away from Naim.

“I moved back to Adelaide.” 

What? 

“I’m not asking you to move back with me, Naim. I’m asking you to give me another chance. To be the mother you deserved. I want to be in your life.” 

Naim couldn’t talk. Ryan stepped in for him. “Why did you leave?” 

Arlene glanced at Ryan. “After you both left, I saw your parents.” Ryan’s jaw clenched. “They were sad; they did miss you, but they also seemed so unaffected. They weren’t worried if you were dead, just hoped you hadn’t succumbed to… your feelings.” Naim saw how dejected Ryan looked. Deep down, he had hoped his parents would change. How childish. Naim reached for Ryan’s left hand, gripping it tightly in his hands. Arlene watched the movement without a word. “That’s when I realized that this wasn’t what I wanted. Hating my son just because he fell in love with someone.” She looked back at Ryan, then at Naim. “Once I had realized the path I was going down was wrong, I knew I had to– to leave that cult of a town.” 

Naim let out a wet laugh. “It really was a cult.” Ryan nodded in agreement, a smirk shyly bloomed at the laughter.

“Oh, Naim,” she got off her seat, circling the island to hug Naim. She looked at Ryan beforehand, inquiring. 

He hated Naim’s mother. Had hated his parents more. Now, with Arlene standing right in front of them, telling them that she was wrong. He couldn’t help thinking that the entity had somehow taken another form to trick them after a while of nothing. It wasn't possible; he knew that.  

Hesitantly, he gave her a nod. Naim needed his mum. And it seemed that Arlene just needed her son. The floodgates broke the moment he felt his mum wrap her arms around him. “I’m so sorry, Naim; it must have been so lonely. I’ve missed you so much, my sweet boy.” Naim sobbed into his mum’s arms, clinging to the dress she was wearing. Arlene planted a kiss on her son’s head, only looking up when she heard a sniff. Ryan kept his hand glued to Naim’s back, but his other hand came up to wipe away some stray tears. He hated crying. Something about years of growing up around fragile masculinity and not showing emotion. When he caught Arlene staring, he froze. She simply smiled, offering one of her arms to him. Both boys ended up curling into each other in Arlene’s arms. 

When the tears dried and sniffling died down, the tomato sauce had gone cold. He couldn’t forgive his mum that fast; after everything, it would take time. Naim resolved to ask if his mum wanted to stay for dinner. Arlene gladly accepted the invite. During dinner, when Arlene tried making conversation with Ryan, Naim thought maybe it wouldn’t be that hard. 

Arlene remembered the kid, how tight-knit he used to hold himself. But she also remembered how his shoulders would drop once Naim was present. At the moment, she could see that same tension, but it was lighter now. They tried to make the couch as comfortable as they could, and in a motherly fashion, Arlene reassured them that it was fine. In the morning, when she wakes up to the clattering of food being made, she'll see her son being hugged by someone who will cherish him for life, and she'll know that he is in good hands. 

~☆~

When the leaves begin to turn from orange to green again, Naim will have finished his first year. He'd say goodbye to his mum with a hug, and go back to Melbourne where Ryan would be waiting to pick him up in his rundown truck. 

Naim glanced around the station, trying to spot the muddy red of Ryan's truck. There was a used-cars dealership near the mechanic store, and someone had brought in the truck while Ryan was working. When he saw it, he asked his boss if he knew how much it'd cost. 

“Couple thousand, give or take. Depends on how well maintained it is, but judging by the looks, it's quite rundown.”

Ryan could invest a couple thousand. Picking up Naim and getting around the city would be easier. Despite how rundown the truck was, Ryan fixed it. He may not have been the smartest in school, but he always worked best with his hands. Naim was a little scared to get in that truck, to be honest. It's not that he doubted Ryan; more so, he doubted the past owners. However, once he got used to the truck, he had to admit that it was useful to have. 

Like watching a kid get a puppy for Christmas, Naim couldn't help smiling at how giddy Ryan was about the truck. Taking it out on a trip was Ryan's idea, but neither had an actual plan. The only part they planned was Naim bringing his art supplies, along with some pencils for Ryan. Reminders of their mindless promise a year ago finally being fulfilled that day. They ended up setting up camp at a park further away from their apartment. Orange sunlight encased them as they drew and painted face to face. Naim provided them with the paper. Unable to help himself, Ryan had taken out his phone and snapped a photo of Naim. How could anyone look at this and feel repulsed? Naim looked angelic in the lighting, making Ryan wish they had warm-toned lights in their apartment, so he'd have this version of Naim to worship every day. Concentrated, Naim barely noticed, too focused on his painting of Ryan. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, shaking from laughter at his lover's concentration. 

Another piece of each other was made that day, Naim's painting hanging in their apartment and Ryan's sketch folded neatly in Naim's wallet. 

“Naim!” And there he was. Basking in the shadows of the station was his Ryan. They’d both grown over a year, Ryan still taller than him to his disappointment. No matter, leaning up whenever he wanted a kiss had become a tradition at this point. He waved back, jogging to where he was parked. After dropping off Naim's stuff, Ryan pushed him back out the door. Full of surprises, Ryan was. He drove to a street lit with fairy lights, bringing Naim into a fancier restaurant compared to the ones they had gone to. 

“Ryan, what are we doing here?” Warm-toned lanterns provided the light for the space, dusting Ryan's hair golden. Naim mentally took note to change the lights in their apartment to warm ones. 

Ryan grinned like it was obvious. “We're celebrating!” 

Growing up in such a small town was constricting—they knew that well, Ryan a little more. With moving to a bigger city where no one was all up in their business, Ryan could learn to appreciate the little things. Like his boyfriend finishing his first year of university. 

Naim grew up in a big city. He had experienced many of the things Ryan had never gotten to until now. Watching Ryan’s terrible attempts at suppressing his overwhelming joy from doing and learning new things reminded him of the many traits that made him fall in love, even in such a bleak town. Ryan always wore his heart on his sleeve; he was just good at hiding it. Not from Naim, barely lasted a day with Naim. He was glad he taught Ryan that. Looking at that same beam plastered on the face of the boy he’d likely marry, Naim promised himself that he would keep that unadulterated grin on Ryan’s face for as long as he could. 

Naim tilted his head with a fond smile. “Thank you. Now, what are we eating? I’m fucking starving.” 

Fairy lights met them again when they left the restaurant on full stomachs, the moon adding its own soft glow over the street. They wandered, like they were still a secret in Bandi; exciting and bittersweet, with heated kisses where no one could witness the evidence of a sin turned blessing. Just this time, they had nothing to hide. 

Naim spotted a public photobooth installed on the street they had turned into. Pushing the curtain open, he patiently gazed at Ryan. Memories of the first time he saw ‘Naim’ flashed in his mind violently, turning what could have been a sweet memory sour. But this wasn’t the entity; this was Naim, his reason for surviving, for giving him a new beginning, and now his reason for living. His dove. 

Ryan went in first, getting slightly compressed to the wall of the photobooth when Naim sat beside him. They shot as many photos as Ryan had. Started kissing as Ryan had. Naim’s jacket came off one shoulder at one point, and Ryan’s tank lifted, but nothing else happened. The only hands around his neck were gentle, cold, and clicking metal twisting baby curls on the nape of his neck. At one point, in the slit created by the photobooth and the curtain, ‘Naim’ stood across the street, fidgeting with its rings. Ryan caught sight of it. Glossy eyes and an angry expression met his stare. Instead of being scared, he offered it a cocky grin. The dark expression lightened, and its hands stopped fidgeting; it looked taken aback if Ryan were to describe it. Then it was gone. Naim nudged Ryan to smile at the camera.

Unbeknownst to them, years later, they would be on a beach somewhere in France, far from the judgement of Bandi. The strips of photos they took that night tucked in their wallets, the third stuck on their apartment walls, later kept in a photo album because they lived that long. Ryan would be teaching their daughter how to swim, Naim watching on a blanket nearby. She would have Ryan’s blonde curls, Naim’s earth-colored eyes, and she would be perfect. Their lighters—the better, fancier kind—would still weigh their pockets down. They wished they could say they never had to use them, but the entity still haunted them. It always will. For as long as they live, the entity would remind them that hate and homophobia still exist. And for the rest of their lives, they’ll keep living despite it, for what is life if they couldn’t live it their way? 

Ryan had learnt to live in silence. He would learn that they didn’t have to anymore.