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The back seat of the Uber faintly resembled an isolation chamber. One that vibrated with the hum of the tires against the asphalt, but an isolation chamber nonetheless. One that let Arda be alone with his thoughts. Outside the window, the city lights blurred into streaks of hot yellow and cold neon. A shimmering smear that felt so detached from the wreckage inside Arda’s chest. His eyes burned. He blinked rapidly, staring fixedly at the dark fabric of the roof lining, trying to leverage physics against his own anatomy. If he tilted his head back far enough, maybe the tears wouldn’t spill over his lashes. He couldn’t break down here. Not in front of a stranger.
The silence around him was deafening, yet his mind rang with the inescapable echo of the voices he had left behind. The sentences were burned into his brain.
‘Are you going to end our lineage? Over trash?’ His father’s voice had carried a harsh rasp. A visceral disgust that severed decades of pride in a single breath.
Then came the second blow. Delivered not with anger, but with a cold finality that seemed better suited for an execution. ‘I withhold my blessing from you. You’ve left us with no face to show the people.’ The absolute weight of el alem crushed any hope of reconciliation.
And finally, his mother. ‘Have you no pity on us? Was it really so hard to build a normal home and hold your own child in your arms?’ Her voice hadn’t been loud. Just a desperate weeping that tore at his ribs.
Arda bit his lower lip so hard, he tasted the metallic tang of blood. The driver remained blissfully uninterested. A quiet silhouette framed by the green glow of the dashboard navigation. Utterly unbothered by the silently shattering passenger in his rear-view mirror.
When the car finally hummed to a stop before the gates of Dean’s house, Arda forced his voice through a dry throat to offer a strained thank you and a good night. He stepped out into the biting air, and immediately rated the driver five stars and added a tip before slipping his phone into his pocket. He hadn’t brought a coat. The cold struck his bare arms with the violence of a slap, but he barely registered it over the hollow ache behind his ribs.
He didn’t have his key. He had run out of his own home with nothing but the clothes on his back and the phone in his hand. Pressing the cold button of the intercom, he stood shivering on the concrete.
‘Yeah?’ Dean’s voice crackled through the speaker, thick with surprise and mild annoyance.
‘It’s me,’ Arda managed, his voice raspy.
‘Arda?’ A long pause of bewildered static. ‘Are you okay?’
‘No.’
The electric latch buzzed open instantly. Arda crossed his arms tightly against his chest, holding himself together as he pushed through the gate and strode straight to the entrance door. The door that was already thrown wide, Dean’s head peeking out into the night air. His eyebrows pulled together in a furrowed “v” of concern. Between his legs, a streak of light brown curls bounded into the doorway. Mía. Her tail fanned the air frantically, her body vibrating with ecstatic recognition. At the sight of her, the suffocating pressure in Arda’s chest loosened just a tiny bit.
‘What happened?’ Dean asked immediately, stepping out into the frame, his hands hovering mid-air.
Arda couldn’t speak. The space between them collapsed as Arda threw himself forward and buried his face directly into the warm crook of Dean’s neck, slamming his torso against Dean with a borderline violent force.
Dean took a staggering step back to catch his balance. A beat of frozen shock passed before his arms wrapped around Arda, pulling him in tightly. Below them, Mía became a whirl of excitement at the sudden contact, hopping up on her hind legs. Her cold nose nearly poked at Arda’s elbow as she tried to join the embrace.
‘Mía. Down,’ Dean spoke, but his tone was so distant and so entirely unfocused that the dog didn’t even process it as a command. She continued to circle them with eager pants.
‘They found out,’ Arda blurted into the fabric of Dean’s shirt. ‘My parents. They found out about us.’
For two agonizing seconds, Dean’s body went completely rigid beneath Arda’s hands. His breathing hitched. His heartbeat pounding flat against Arda’s cheek. Then, like a machine resetting, he snapped back into motion.
‘You’re freezing,’ Dean whispered against his hair.
He gently pried Arda back just enough to steer him over the threshold, shutting down the door behind them and twisting the lock. Immediately, Dean dropped to his knees on the entryway rug. His hands moved to unlace Arda’s shoes. Mía trotted over, hovering centimeters away from Dean’s face. Her damp snout sniffed near his cheek, but Dean completely ignored her, his eyes fixed entirely on Arda’s feet.
‘How?’ Dean asked quietly as he peeled the sneakers away. ‘How did they find out?’
‘They made a surprise visit. They came to my place while I was out with Jude, Carlos, and Rodry,’ Arda rasped, the memory of his night out seeming like a fever dream. He stared down at the back of Dean’s neck, anchoring himself in a world that didn’t feel real anymore. ‘You know how my mother likes to tidy up. She found your spare clothes in the closet.’
Dean’s hands froze just a split second over Arda’s ankle. He swallowed hard, and stood up. ‘I’m so… so sorry,’ his voice was barely above a whisper. His eyes glittered with a sudden sheen that he tried to push back. The shame was written in the absolute stillness of his frame. ‘I should have packed them away. Or taken them back with me. I should have…’
‘No,’ Arda interrupted, shaking his head faintly. ‘It’s not your fault. I… Maybe I could have lied if it was just the clothes. But I left my laptop on the desk.’
A flicker of comprehension washed across Dean’s features. His eyes widened slightly. His lips parted in a small “o” of recognition. ‘Do you still have Whatsapp on it?’ he inquired gloomily.
‘Yes,’ Arda choked out. ‘And the last message I had sent… The one I had open…’
‘... was the one about how much you love me,’ Dean filled in, his eyes softening with a painful tenderness.
Arda gave a single, poignant nod. It had been the last message he sent before he went to his little meet-up. Ironically, one that was meant to keep up appearances of him and Dean just being good friends. Good friends that could spend time without one another.
Dean let out a shuddering sigh. Reaching down, he took Arda’s cold hand in his palm and gently pulled him out of the hallway and into the living room. Mía trotted behind them, blissfully unaware of their predicament. Her tail swooshed happy arcs against the air.
Arda walked through the doorway in a haze of rising detachment. Normally, stepping into this house was like stepping into a sanctuary. A sanctuary where the armor he wore everyday could finally be stripped off. A sanctuary where he could breathe without measuring his words or monitoring the inflections of his voice. A sanctuary where he would be loved without the pressure to perform or to conform. Now, the familiar walls and warm lightning felt distant. Like looking at a photograph of a place he used to know. Now, the sanctuary was compromised. The outside world had bled through the walls.
Dean guided him him to the pale green couch, sitting him down tenderly. ‘Do you want something to drink? Water? Tea? Pepsi?’
‘No,’ Arda whispered. ‘Nothing.’
Dean sat down right next to him, his thigh pressing against Arda’s. Mía immediately scrambled up onto the cushions between them, expecting her usual spot, but Dean took her under her belly and set her back down on the rug, earning himself a bewildered tilt of her head. Shaking her ears, she trotted quietly out of the living room.
Dean’s hand rose toward Arda’s face. His fingers hovered half a centimeter from Arda’s cheek. Wanting so desperately to touch. To stroke the skin there. But a rueful hesitation held him back. He lowered his hand to rest firmly on Arda’s shoulder instead.
‘What happened?’ Dean asked softly.
‘We fought,’ Arda didn’t hesitate. ‘A huge fight. They’re so angry. I don’t know how to explain namus, but it’s like I brought dishonor to my family. It’s… I don’t know how to say it, but a curse from a father is different.’ He paused wondering how he could possibly simplify the agonizing shame of el alem for Dean. ‘They fear people will see me differently. Like I’m a wrong son to my family.’
Arda’s thoughts were a tangled mess. He knew the jumbled fragments made little cohesive sense. To Dean, this was probably no different than the regular homophobia he himself knew. But Dean merely scrunched his face. A complex mix of expressions flashed in his eyes. Pity. Love. Incomprehension. But he didn’t push. He didn’t ask Arda to translate the untranslatable grief.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Dean whispered, his hand squeezing Arda’s shoulder tighter. ‘You didn’t deserve any of that.’
Soft taps of paws echoed on the wooden floor as Mía returned to the living room, carrying a red rubber ball in her mouth. She trotted over to the couch, dropping the slobbery ball onto Arda’s foot, her tail wagging in anticipation.
‘No, Mía,’ Dean said firmer this time. ‘Not right now. He’s not here to play.’
Mía let out a squeaky whimper. Dean picked up the ball and tossed it over his shoulder onto the top of the couch cushion behind him. Confused and defeated, the little dog sank at their feet, resting her jaw flat on her front paws. Her dark eyes gazed up at them quite mournfully.
Arda stared down at her small disappointed form. A tiny crack formed in the wall of numbness that wrapped his chest. The innocent sadness pierced through his shock just enough to bring a prickle of genuine warmth to his eyes.
‘She’s so cute,’ Arda couldn’t help himself, despite everything.
Dean didn’t bite. He recognized that scratchy and thin voice held nothing of the usual adoration Arda had for the little dog. His gaze remained locked on Arda’s face.
‘Where are your parents now?’ Dean inquired carefully.
Arda’s brow furrowed into a scowl, his shoulders tensing up in a heartbeat. ‘Still at my place,’ he mumbled, dropping his eyes. He had walked out on them. Left the door unlocked. Left the overwhelming heat of their rage behind. Because at one point his mind had simply refused to engage in the battle that his parents were too proud to ever lose. ‘I couldn’t stay there. They were shouting. My mother was crying. It was just too much. Everything was so loud and it happened so fast, I just shut down like a machine. I can’t even remember everything that was said.’
‘It sounds to me like you were in shock,’ Dean nodded slowly, his expression softening in sympathetic understanding.
Arda offered a helpless shrug, feeling the hollow space in his chest expand. Dean shifted his weight on the cushion, sliding his hand down from Arda’s shoulder to grip his arm, his thumb rubbing small, soothing circles into the fabric of Arda’s sleeve.
‘How can I help you right now?’ Dean asked almost too quietly.
‘What do you mean?’ Arda’s spine was on the verge of stiffening again.
‘I mean…’ Dean took a slow breath. ‘Do you need warm clothes to change into? A place to sleep for the night?’ He paused only for a split second. ‘Or would it help you if we broke up?’ His voice faltered.
The last words hit Arda like a strike in the chest. The numbness that had wrapped his brain into a protective cocoon just a while ago shattered into a million little pieces. Panic surged through his veins. Hot. Sharp. Intolerable. It set every nerve ending ablaze.
Arda bolted straight up on the cushion. The violent movement startled Dean, who recoiled slightly, while Mía let out a small yip from the floor. Arda reached out blindly and snatched Dean’s hand, crushing it within both of his own. He squeezed with bruising force, burying his knuckles into Dean’s palm. Dean’s nostrils flared as he exhaled a sharp puff of air through his nose from the sudden pain, but he kept his face completely steady and refused to pull away.
‘No,’ Arda yelped, his eyes welling over with fresh and furious tears that spilled down his cheeks. ‘No, no, no, no, no, no…’
Dean brought his free hand up, laying his palm over the top of Arda’s white-knuckled grip. ‘What do you mean no?’ His tone was considerably calmer than Arda’s.
‘I can’t lose you,’ Arda whined. The sound was small and pathetically wrecked. One he’d be mortified if he ever let slip in front of parents, but felt completely safe to do so in front of Dean. ‘I can’t… Not you…’
‘I love you,’ Dean cut in, his voice now strong and free of any signs of hesitation. ‘Nothing changes that. Ever. I just thought… I thought that maybe you wanted…’ But his composure disintegrated again as he was unable to verbally express the sacrifice he thought Arda would be willing to make.
Arda stared at him, his chest heaving. ‘Are you afraid of my parents?’
‘No.’
‘Do you fear the guys finding out? Or fans?’ Arda insisted, his teary eyes widening ever so slightly.
‘Yes.’ Dean’s gaze flickered down for a fraction of a second before meeting Arda’s again. ‘But only because I know some of them will make life difficult for us.’
‘Did I ever embarrass you?’ Arda’s voice hitched as a desperate sob clawed at his throat.
‘Never,’ Dean replied. Flatly. Resonantly. With absolute certainty.
‘What would you do if my parents told yours?’ Arda pressed, his mind having raced through the nightmarish scenarios the entire Uber ride. ‘What if they told your father?’
A shift began in Dean’s eyes. The hardness inside them dissolved into a bright, but fleeting spark. The fine skin at the outer corners of his eyes crinkled just a millimeter before his mouth twitched and he let out a hurried, breathless chuckle.
‘My dad?’ A faintly amused note slipped into Dean’s voice. ‘Honestly? He’d probably just be disappointed that you don’t drink. He bonds over beer.’
Arda stared at him in utter disbelief. His mind refused to process the absurd simplicity of a world where a father wouldn’t cast his son into darkness over this.
‘How can you be so sure?’ Arda inquired shakily. ‘How can you possibly believe he would just accept me?’
Dean leaned in close, his face just a few centimeters away from Arda’s. His lips curved into a precious smile. ‘Because you’re not vegan,’ he whispered conspiratorially. ‘He only hates vegans.’
It was ridiculous. Completely fucking ridiculous. Yet that ridiculousness sliced right through the dark fog that had enveloped Arda. A strained laugh burst out of his throat, and as he laughed, the pressure in his fingers finally eased. His grip on Dean’s hand loosened. Dean let out a breath of relief, his shoulders dropping a couple of centimeters.
‘I love you too,’ Arda whispered, his voice trembling as he looked into Dean’s eyes. ‘And I’m terrified. I’m terrified that if we walk away from this, I’ll never find another you.’
Dean looked at him with an almost unbearable tenderness. ‘But your parents…’
‘I know what they want,’ Arda interrupted, the words bitter on his tongue. He knew the blueprint they had mentally laid out for him. Marriage. A respectable Turkish bride. Grandchildren to carry the family name. The comfortable continuity of a life built on the approval of others. ‘And you know I’d do almost anything to make them happy. But this? You? I can’t you up. Not… you…’
‘What do you want to do then?’ Dean asked softly.
Arda let go of Dean’s hand, and roughly wiped the traces of moisture from his cheeks before reaching behind Dean’s back. His fingers closed around Mía’s rubber ball. The moment the ball cleared the cushion, Mía’s head snapped up. She sprang up, her small body quivering with excitement, her tail beating against the floorboards.
‘I don’t know,’ Arda said, his voice dropping into a quieter pitch. He raised his arm, and made a dramatic winding-up motion. Mía bounced off the floor, her paws landing with soft pats, her eyes glued to his hand. ‘I’m really not in a good state of mind to think about that right now.’
He feigned a throw. Mía launched herself forward, caught herself, and let out a high-pitched yip of demand.
‘I just hope,’ Arda continued, stealing a glance of Dean’s attentive expression, ‘that whatever the future has in store for me… it includes you.’
With a swift flick of his wrist, he tossed the ball down the long hallway. Mía took off like a shot, her claws skittering wildly on the hardwood before she disappeared in hot pursuit.
Arda turned back to face Dean completely. A soft smile graced his lips, lighting up his eyes beautifully.
‘I’ll always be there,’ Dean promised. ‘Wherever you go, I’ll be there with you.’