Chapter Text
Naim walks through the crowded entrance to the pastor’s house. The living room and porch are filled to the brim with students celebrating their freedom from the chains of school, looking forward to the next few months on sunny beaches and grassy plains.
He spots a table with Solo cups and decides, fuck it, why not. It tastes like poorly mixed cranberry and cheap vodka, but what more could he ask for?
-
The room slowly blurs into a hazy mess, and Naim’s instincts tell him to find Ryan. He needs to see Ryan right now. So Naim pushes through needy teenagers to find him, as if it is his sole purpose.
Ryan is surrounded by a group of other students from his class, sitting on the ground, cross-legged and fiddling with his serpent ring. Naim decides that snakes are now his favourite animal.
“Oi, Naim! Join us. We’re playing spin the bottle”. Ryan motions for Naim to join the circle. Naim considers it for a second. He’s too drunk to care anyway. Who cares if he has to kiss a random person tonight if it means a chance with Ryan?
“Alright,” Naim says reluctantly.
Ryan appears to be going first, and he twists the bottle in a way that makes Naim dizzy. The empty beer bottle spins hopefully, and it slowly comes to a halt.
Naim looks up to see a random girl, and honestly, he thinks he couldn't care less. Ryan gets up and kisses her emptily, and Naim almost feels a little happy at that.
Naim is next, and he spins with a little too much force, hoping for it to point at a particular blond; instead, he looks up to Izzy. He gets up and presses his lips to hers, feeling nothing but disappointment. In his peripheral, Naim noticed Ryan’s face lean towards something reminiscent of jealousy.
-
After the bottle makes its way through the circle, it rounds back to Ryan. Naim finds himself paying attention again, watching the bottle spin relentlessly. It peers up to Hunter.
Frustration festers in Naim’s stomach as Ryan glances at Hunter and holds him by his face. In the blink of an eye, Ryan is kissing Hunter in a practised manner that makes Naim question things. As they separate, Hunter shoots a knowing look at Naim, as if he had won something against Naim.
“I’m gonna call it a night,” Naim says abruptly after getting up.
“But it's your turn, Naim.” Someone chimed in. Naim looks over and is faced with an over-eager boy’s face. He doesn’t know his name, and quite frankly, he doesn’t care. Naim strides over to the redhead, crouches down, and viciously grabs his face and gives him an open-mouthed kiss.
“There you go. I'm off.” Naim walks off, arm in the air to bid farewell to the unfortunate group. He did not need to see more of Ryan kissing anyone else for the night.
As soon as Naim approaches the door, he feels someone grabbing onto his wrist.
“Oi, cunt!” Ryan shouts at Naim. “Didn’t know you were into redheads”.
“Didn’t know you were into pastors”. Naim refutes.
“Hunter’s not a pastor, his dad is,” Ryan says pointedly.
Naim feels a headache coming on. “So you are into him, then?”
“That’s not what I said. You didn’t answer my question”. Ryan is still steadily gripping Naim’s wrist, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Naim.
“What's it matter to you, dickhead?” Naim was getting sick of this back and forth.
Ryan seemed to have felt the same, so begins to drag Naim out the door, past the porch, and towards his car.
“The fuck are you doin'?” Naim yells at him loudly enough to turn heads at the party.
“Will you stop yellin’ in my ear, Naim?”
The pair stands outside the red pickup that belonged to Ryan’s father. Naim is now readily pinned against the passenger door, writhing against Ryan’s grip.
“What is your fuckin’ problem, Whelan?” Naim decides that the last name might do the job. It takes Ryan by surprise, but it does not produce the answer Naim wants.
Ryan chuckles, “So are you into him? Liam?” he asks Naim.
“The redhead? He’s called Liam?” Naim asks incredulously. “He doesn’t look like a Liam”.
Ryan squints at Naim and laughs, “You arsehole, you don’t even know his name, and you just kissed him like that?”
“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it?” Naim nudges Ryan with his now released hands, pressing his index finger into Ryan’s chest. “Aren’t you gunning for the pastor anyway?” Naim says bitterly.
“I never said that. Why are you so adamant that I’m into Hunter?” Ryan says.
“Maybe because you kissed him, he was, I dunno, fuckin’ Hemsworth,” Naim jabs him once more.
“You are meant to kiss people in Spin the Bottle, you know that, right?”
“Whatever. I’m going home.” Naim pivots and starts to head to his home, just down the street.
“Don’t be like that,” Ryan says.
“Like what?”
Ryan seems to be contemplating something, “You know...”
“No, I don’t know, Ryan. Like fuckin’ what?” Naim was starting to get impatient.
“Fuck, Naim, why are you so difficult?”
“I am not, it is three in the fuckin’ morning, and I want to go home, shower, and go to sleep so I don’t shoot myself when I wake up tomorrow morning. So get to your god damn point, or else I am going home, Ryan.”
Ryan stares at him for 10 seconds, and the only sound that is flooding Naim’s ears is the bass coming from Hunter’s house.
Naim looks at Ryan. “I’m going home. Bye Ryan. See ya.”
“Fuckin’ coward”, Ryan mutters to himself.