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Altair couldn't even remember what they had been arguing about anymore (it was probably stupid and ultimately inconsequential). Whatever it was, Altair would have conceded it a hundred times over if it meant he could have avoided this.
They'd been shouting at each other one moment and, out of frustration, Altair had swept his arm back for no other reason than because he couldn't quite stay still when he's frustrated.
He had expected Malik to shout back, to continue arguing because neither of them knew when to quit. What he hadn't expected (could never have expected) was the way Malik flinched back, the way he instinctively put his hands up as if to protect himself, though not fast enough to cover the flash of fear in his eyes.
In the wake to this abrupt end to their argument was a silence with enough prescence that it almost seemed to displace all the air in the room. It was uncomfortable and, for a moment, Altair's arm remains suspended in the air, looking foolish and confused as he tried to understand what just happened.
It did not make sense, because Malik had always seemed so steady and fearless. He did not seem like the sort of person who would flinch from anything (let alone Altair, who has never--would never hurt him).
But slowly it dawns on Altair, what the cause could be and, with a sick feeling settling in the pit of his stomach, realizes there had been signs but he'd been too stupid to realize.
~ + ~
They'd met in the elevator on Malik's first day. Altair had been running late and saw the elevator door closing. He'd shouted for whoever was in there to wait. It was Malik, of course, who had been full of enough goodwill that day to press the button to keep the doors from shutting on someone who was late (because Malik had a thing about punctuality and an eternal dislike of those who cannot apply themselves towards it.)
Altair still remembers that he'd been frowning because his goodwill only extended so far and he thought the man actually looked quite handsome.
"Well? Are you coming in or not?" He'd asked when Altair just stood there in the threshold between elevator and lobby.
"Yeah." He steps in and Malik presses the button to shut the door with a huff, "thanks for waiting."
Malik's only reply was to make a non-commital sound as Altair reaches over to press the button for his own floor.
They both worked high enough in the building that Altair had long enough to really take in the details of Malik's profile (surreptitiously, of course). They're five floors from what Altair could only assume was Malik's floor before he clears his throat.
"Sports injury?" He asks and flushes when Malik's head snaps towards him with a confused and vaguely suspicious look. Altair clarifies by gesturing at his own face, around the area where Malik was still sporting an old bruise that was barely visible now.
Malik's mouth presses into a thin line and Altair can't remember the details too well, but he vaguely remembers feeling that something about the way Malik held himself straighter after that and looked away to be odd.
"...something like that." He'd muttered as the elevator slowed then stopped at his floor, essentially ending the conversation for them. But before the doors could close behind Malik, Altair reached out and slapped a hand against one edge of the doors.
"I'm Altair."
There was no one else in the hall except them and Malik had turned around and stared like Altair might be touched in the head. But he hadn't just left which Altair took as a good sign and grinned.
It was terribly cliche in retrospect and that had been a source of amusement for Altair (oh, but it won't be now that he recognizes it for what it was).
~ + ~
Then there'd been that little party some of their co-workers had put together that Altair hadn't even intended to go to until Rebecca looked at him and said, as casually as she could that that guy from accounting would be there too which had led to a whole new round of 'which guy' from the rest of their co-workers (that Altair hadn't deigned to respond to).
They hadn't even gotten to sit together, but they were close enough, at least, that Altair heard when Malik's phone rang. He didn't know whose it was, of course, because Malik didn't really do personalized ringtones (until months later when Altair got his hands on his phone). It was pure coincidence that he looked up just as Malik pulled out his phone.
His face immediately went pale when he looks down. Altair watches as Malik pushes his chair back and stands up.
"Sorry. I need to take this."
The place they'd chosen was a bar, with a large window out in the front. Malik has his back turned to the inside, but Altair could tell from the set of his shoulder that the conversation was not going well. Then he turns to the side and he's honestly never seen Malik so angry and he's seen him, once or twice, in the elvators, complaining about the things that annoyed him in the mornings.
The phone call didn't last very long but Malik seems exhausted and frustrated when he finally hangs up. Then he walked away, disappearing into the edge of the window frame. When he did not return after a while, Altair excused himself and left the table.
He was only a step out the front door before he found Malik, leaning his back against the brick wall right beside the door.
Neither of them had expected to see each other there, but Malik found his voice first.
"What are you doing out here?"
Altair stepped outside fully, letting the door swing shut leaving them in the relative (because this is a busy city and, even this late at night there are still cars going back and forth).
"I was wondering where you went. You seemed upset."
Malik looked down, turned his phone around in his hand with a frown.
"It's nothing." He pocketed his phone with a sigh, "I think I'll go home now."
Altair nodded, "I'll get your jacket." Because it sounded a bit like Malik was actually saying, 'I don't want to be around people'.
For that, Malik gave him a thankful look that made the tips of his ears burns as he walked back in and grabbed both Malik's jacket and his own, citing not feeling well as their excuse and deliberately ignored Rebecca's thumbs up as he leaves.
It was still warm enough that the wait hadn't been awful, but Malik still slipped the light jacket on as soon as Altair handed it to him.
"Not in the mood for partying either?" He asked while eyeing the fact that Altair was dressed to leave.
"Not really." Altair stuffed his hands into his pockets more out of (nervous) habit than because it was cold, "you take the subway?"
"Yeah."
They talked along the way, though Altair can't really remember all of it, but he does remember when he started talking to Malik about the rock-climbing gymn he went to sometimes. He also remembers, in vivid detail, when he'd asked for Malik's number so they could meet up at said gym (because Malik also had a thing for heights and climbing).
"I'm probably going to change my number soon."
He remembers watching Malik's face and knowing almost instinctively that he was going to lie before he even said anything.
"I'm...having some disagreements with my service provider." But then he turned back towards Altair with a small smile, "how about you give me yours instead?"
~ + ~
They had been dating for all of three days when Malik calls him to warn him that his brother was visiting.
"He wants to meet you." He had said with a sigh and an exasperated face.
The encounter hadn't been awful, but strange in that Malik's brother had taken the last bus of the day and arrived at midnight instead of waiting for the morning bus like most sane people. They'd met for disgusting coffee at some place that was open for twenty-four hours and Kadar, who bore some resemblance to his brother, had smiled in such a way to take all the edge off himself. He had been friendly enough, but the moment Malik left to go to the washroom he'd looked right at Altair and told him this:
"If you hurt him, I'll make you regret it."
But he'd apparently been satisfied with everything because when they finally saw Kadar off after the weekened ended, Malik had told him, "I think he likes you."
And Altair hadn't asked if there was any reason he should not.
~ + ~
Oh, but it hadn't ended with the brother.
Not even two months into their relationship and Malik asked that he come over for the holidays.
"My parents insisted."
And, just like Kadar, Malik's mother had pulled him aside after a warm dinner full of enough home-cooked food they must have expected him to either eat like an elephant or takes some of it back with him.
"You will take care of my son." She asked-but-did-not-ask in her small, accented voice with an undercurrent of steel.
"Yes."
And she had smiled and patted him on his cheek and insisted he must take some food home, that they were both far too skinny.
Later, on the drive back, with the smell of food escaping their containers and invading the car, Altair had asked, "Exactly how big an asshole was your ex?"
Malik's hands tightened on the steering wheel briefly, before he relaxes his body with a loud exhale.
"The worst one I've ever met." The way he'd said it had sounded downright vindicative.
~ + ~
This was stupid.
Arguing had been stupid. What he'd done when Altair had raised his arm was even stupider, and Malik wanted nothing more than for this whole disaster to have simply not happened.
Still, his body seemed to be frozen, locked in place with his arms over his head and face as if bracing for...what exactly? Altair would never--
(But he'd thought the same the first time, hadn't he? The first time always takes you by surprise because you think you know them, you think they couldn't do something like that. Up until they do.)
He squeezed his eyes shut but it doesn't help stop the tears. Nothing helps and he thinks maybe he should say something (maybe he should run) but he can't.
Then Altair puts a hand on his back, so lightly it may as well have not been there and Malik doesn't realize he's holding his breath until he's letting it all out in a rush when Altair pulls him close.
"Malik…" He is surprised to hear that Altair’s voice sounded as hoarse as his own felt and, reflexively, his hands fists Altair’s hoodie tightly. "I would never hurt you."
Malik does not relax, but he buries his face in Altair’s hoodie and clings to him tighter, feeling as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulder even as he hunches forwards and cries.
~ + ~
His father had asked him (while his mother had dragged Altair further into the kitchen to talk), "Do you trust him?"
Malik does not begrudge his family their concern as much as he wishes he could. They had been the ones who had to deal with the fall-out, the ones who had had to deal with the fact that Malik had grown distant and secretive about his life until the day Kadar found out the truth. (That he had only been secretive because he hadn't wanted to admit he couldn't deal with it, because he had been ashamed.)
It was his father, surprisingly, who showed up the next day.
They did not always get along, the two of them, because they were both bull-headed and short-tempered and weren't very good at talking about their own feelings. But there was something reassuring about his father's quiet presence as he helped Malik pack up his things and put them into his father's old, beat up car and took him home without asking any questions.
No. His family has earned the right to be worried. But this is different. Altair is different so he didn't hesitate to tell his father, "I do."
~ + ~
What he had said to his father back then was still true now.
Even after he'd stopped crying, Malik still couldn't stop the unevenness in his breathing. He tries, anyway, by breathing in and out, even and deep. When he felt he could talk without his voice hitching embarrassingly, he said, "sorry."
Then he said, "stop." because he can feel the way Altair's arms tightened around him, could already hear his denial that Malik had anything to apologize for.
"Stop." Malik said again and pulled back enough to look Altair in the eye. He inhales and the breath shakes but his voice is firm when he says, "I know you wouldn't hurt me. I just--" Can't help it.
Because he'd trusted before and had that trust broken. Because that had been the part that had been worse than the physical hurt and haunts him long after the bruises had faded. Altiar is different, he knows this. But, as the saying goes, once bitten...
The words he wanted to say just stayed lodged uslessly in his throat and he can only make a frustrated sound and look away. At that point, Altair's hand that had been rubbing soothing circles over his back moves to cup his face and turns it back to face him. There is a, perhaps, surprising lack of anger in Altair's face. Only a grim sort of determination and, more importantly, no pity when Altair leans in presses their foreheads together.
"I love you." He says and Malik had been determined not to cry a second time, but feels his eyes misting up all over again as Altair leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Altair had never been a person good with overly complicated words, so it's those simple three words he repeated in between peppering Malik's face with kisses and whatever composure Malik had been trying to keep a hold of was gone and he couldn't even figure out if he's crying or laughing anymore. Until he reaches up to frame Altair's face, to hold him still so he'd stop.
There were still so many things left to say. Like how Malik had jumped at the chance at employment in this city because he'd wanted to start fresh, how glad he was that he did (and that he had kept the elevator door open despite the split second when he'd wanted to not simply out of spite), and so much more. But there's a usless hiccup in his throat that won't go away and it would probably come out all garbled if he tried so all he managed to get out was a hoarse but fond, "idiot."
And Altair was grinning like it was the greatest compliment in the world as Malik pulled him down to kiss him properly.