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Ryan Whelan had seen Hunter around, as he had everyone else that lived in this small town where all the days felt the same. But it wasn't until he was fourteen that he first sought him out alone in his backyard.
It started off as a stupid joke, a gathering of immature teenagers: spin the bottle, or truth or dare: he truly didn’t remember anymore.
Ryan did remember Hunter’s muscles flexing under the dress shirt of his school uniform and his full lips as he leaned in to kiss him. He remembered the rough press of lips against his, unpracticed and thoughtless, but also the laughter and hushed whispers that mocked them.
He must have been too quiet after because Hunter gave him a rough shove and made a joke that it’s not a sin if neither of them enjoyed it. They made mockery of Ryan’s newfound but true feelings, all for a show and a quick laugh.
Two days later, Hunter found Ryan in the backyard, alone, always alone. The only thing his parents made time for, aside from work, was Sunday mass and sleeping.
Hunter called him names. He called Ryan gay, queer, a demon sent to get into his head and tempt him into sin. He told him that what they did was going to land them in hell and that they would never see their loved ones ever again. Ryan wondered if eternal hellfire burned as warmly as the drowning desire in his lower stomach when his hands slipped under the waistband of his pajama pants the night before.
Then Hunter threw the first rock, hitting Ryan where his ribcage stood guard over his fragile heart. Ryan was never one to start a fight, but he wouldn’t take this lying down either. Anger and shame pooled in his chest as his hands grasped for the first rock he could find, lifting it over his head and hurling with all his might.
Hunter moved to dodge, but the rock still clipped him in the biceps, which staggered him for only a second.
They did it again and again, and Ryan could tell exactly where he was going to bruise later. The ugly red bruises from Hunter’s brutality would fade into dark purple, then green, and fade from his skin with the moment. The next time Ryan sent the rock flying, suddenly Hunter was right in front of him, all chiseled cheekbones and powerful arms grabbed the collar of Ryan’s shirt, pulling him into a crushing kiss.
Ryan’s touch-starved brain kissed him back immediately, hands that he threw rocks with intent to bruise now gripped Hunter’s hips hard enough to leave marks somewhere more intimate.
Instead of pulling away like last time, their lips crashed against each other again and again, and Ryan tried committing it all to memory. He smelled of musk and sweat and tasted like apple juice. Hunter’s hands were shaking with the needless effort to cling onto Ryan’s shirt as if it was a lifeline. Ryan desperately wished he could take it off just to see where Hunter would put his hands instead. On his waist, the same way Ryan’s were? Softly cradling his neck? Or roughly knotting in his hair, tugging when he pleased.
Their mouths were blistering, wet with spit, and Ryan let out a needy sound he didn’t think he was capable of. More, somehow he wanted more. He repeated a mantra of Hunter’s derogatory words as his curious hands slipped under his shirt, indulging in the smooth skin and hard muscle. Ryan wondered what it would be like to be trapped under this body, pressing him into the old twin size mattress of the only bedroom he had ever known.
A dark and possessive need rose inside him, poisoning his thoughts and clouding his reasoning. Ryan pushed harder into Hunter, chasing his tongue into his mouth, overwhelmed with the craving for Hunter to bite down on his lip, and draw blood, fill Ryan’s mouth with the taste of iron and leave him, mark him, with a lingering taste.
The fantasy shattered when Hunter shoved him hard, and Ryan’s pathetic heart and body couldn’t recover fast enough. His arse hit the dirt, breaths coming in short gasps.
Hunter gave him grace and let Ryan orient himself before spitting his parting words: “Don’t tell anyone.”
Ryan was left in the same backyard he found himself in, watching Hunter’s back disappear and reappear behind the fluttering sheets his mother clipped to the clothesline in the morning. This would only be one of many times he would get this same view of Hunter leaving throughout the next couple of years. First throwing stones that served to punish, then shoving his tongue down Ryan’s throat like there was no tomorrow.
Now, Hunter was dead, but life wasn’t so merciful to Ryan as to leave him without a boy that would whisper his name like a sacred prayer between kisses and touched him in a way that made him wonder what the point of it all was.
Because beyond the fluttering sheets that smelled like laundry detergent and home, appearing and reappearing was none other than the bashful figure of Naim Reid.
Ryan tensed, eyes flickering to the back door with a strong enough lock to hold the door until Ryan could make a run to the other side and onto the street.
“Ryan?” ‘Naim’ called out softly. Of course Ryan knew it wasn’t actually Naim. He dropped the real Naim off at his house with the promise to never see him again. This ‘Naim’ was the entity whose goal was to rip every shred of joy out of Ryan’s life to the point where he pondered if he’d rather see Naim’s face in his last moments or the barrel of his father’s shotgun.
“You’re not fucking him.” He spat, letting the anger that stuck with him since yesterday wash over him. The entity didn’t just torture him by wearing the face of the boy he loved, but also the boy whose decisions brought Ryan and Hunter to their knees in front of the deliverance healer. He remembered the fire burning through him all the way down to his bones, head splitting open from the pain. It felt like the ritual was pulling a vital part of Ryan’s soul until the agony overwhelmed him and he promptly passed out. “I know you’re not him.”
‘Naim’ looked at the ground with shame, tinged with insincerity. “Even if you never want to see me again, I wanted to say sorry.”
The apology did nothing to soothe his rage, and ‘Naim’ could only take two steps forward before Ryan yelled. “Stay back! You’re not him, and even if you were, I wouldn’t accept it.”
“Ryan, I—”
“Stop fucking talking.” Ryan seethed. “Hunter is dead because of you. You killed him!” He struggled to swallow around the lump in his throat. His hands clenched into fists the same way his father’s would before he swung at his mother.
“Please, Ryan,” ‘Naim’ blinked twice, lips trembling as a single tear rolled down his soft cheek. His next breath came as a choked sob. “I can’t be alone with it, don’t make me. Please, I am so scared.”
Ryan’s whole body flinched as if he was personally responsible for making Naim cry. He had mocked Naim for fearing his own shadow and play fight with him when given the chance, but he would never mean him any harm. How could he, when Naim was his escape—his safe place and taste of freedom. Ryan fell hard when the violent way of love he learnt from Hunter, was met with Naim’s softness. This, this is what love was meant to feel like, Ryan thought when he kissed Naim the first time. And if it was going to ruin him, he would let it.
“Fuck,” he breathed out. “Hey, Naim. It’s okay. It will be okay. Just—” Ryan ran his fingers through his hair and cursed how easily his resolve was crumbling. What if it was actually Naim? The entity could talk and act like Naim and tell Ryan exactly what he wanted to hear, whatever would earn his trust. Despite everything, despite the deliverance healer and the danger and the broken trust, Ryan couldn’t forgive himself if something happened to his Naim. “Okay. Naim? If you are the real one, then sit down. Right now, where you are.”
Naim nodded, wiping his snotty red nose on the sleeve of his hoodie. True to Ryan’s demands, he sat down cross-legged in the same spot he was just standing in.
“Okay, now stay there.” Ryan took a couple of steps forward until there was only about three meters between them and sat down. Close enough to see Naim clearly and talk without yelling, but far enough to be able to scramble to his feet if he was wrong. “Alright. We are going to sit here, and neither of us will move. No touching, no kissing, no—no nothing.”
The entity would try to fool Ryan by acting on his desire, so Ryan wouldn’t let it. If nothing romantic or sexual happened between them, and Naim wouldn’t break this one rule, then he was the real one.
Naim wrapped his arms around himself, and Ryan ached with the burning need to comfort him. A new tear track replaced the one he wiped away earlier. “Are your parents not around?”
The only one who ever asked about Ryan’s parents was Hunter, but he always just wanted to know was what time they came home that day. He spared a glance at the house, which now stood empty. “They are always busy. Working and all that. What about your mum?”
“She’s avoiding me, I think.” Naim spoke softly. “I don’t know anyone else. I didn’t know where else to go.”
“I’m sorry. I thought—. Your mum seemed like she—” she cared. Ryan realized how moronic that thought was after finding out that Naim’s mum called the deliverance healer herself to ‘help’ her son. His parents stopped giving Ryan the time of day as soon as he was old enough to go to school, so he never had anyone he could confide in. Naim only had his mum in a town where he disliked everything. “I’m really sorry.”
“I’m sorry about Hunter.” Ryan’s eyes lingered on the way Naim’s Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “I came to find you. I saw you and him throwing rocks at each other.” Naim paused. “Then you kissed him.”
“Oh,” Ryan breathed out. He wouldn't even know where to begin regarding what was between him and Hunter. They were young, confused, and desperate enough to fall into the first body that gave them the opportunity. Hunter was rough edges and violent devotion and teeth against his throat. For the longest time, Hunter was all Ryan knew. In a world where Ryan could never have Naim, at least not in the way he truly wanted him, he crawled back to Hunter. “I didn’t think—it didn’t mean anything between us.”
“And with me?” Naim’s piercing eyes urged Ryan to lay his soul bare.
“You’re different.” Was what he settled on to not reveal his true feelings. Naim was different. He was gentle and touched Ryan as if he would break. At night he played a montage of all the different versions of Naim that he memorized over the time they spent together. Naim, with his pupils blown from the weed, regarding him lazily. Naim’s warm body under his, letting out soft whimpers whenever Ryan pressed him harder against the concrete. Naim, holding his gaze at school and at church, the same way he held their secrets between them. Naim, Naim, Naim. Only ever Naim. Ryan knew what made him happy (late night talks and baggy clothes), what scared him (a lot of things but mostly heights and stagnancy and being forgotten), what turned him on (Ryan mouthing at his neck and when he pushed his tongue past Naim’s lips).
Ryan was stuck in Naim’s orbit, and there were only two ways their story could end. Orbital decay: Ryan would lose the fight against his better judgement and give in to Naim’s gravitational pull. They would finally collide and were doomed to destroy each other in the aftermath. Or orbital migration: they would drift apart in opposite directions, never to return to each other ever again.
“Do you want to know why I did it?”
Ryan had been wondering what could have caused the person he thought he knew so well to betray him like this. He wanted to know why Naim did it so badly it hurt, but was scared of the answer at the same time. If Naim gave him an answer that justified his actions, then he was scared of whatever reason was good enough to do so. And if it didn’t… well, that was a tragedy in and of itself, wasn’t it?
“Only if you want to tell me.” Discipline and patience were never Ryan’s strong suit and the wildfire that was Naim running rampant in his life had burned him once before, but Ryan would stick his hand in the fire again and again for one more touch, one more kiss, one more whatever Naim would give, Ryan would take.
“When I saw you with him that day, I was confused. It hurt so badly, and I didn’t understand why.” Ryan wished he could time travel back to the past and undo it somehow, just so he wouldn’t have to be responsible for Naim’s pain. “I wanted it to be me. I wanted you to kiss me and only me. And that scared me.” His brows furrowed. “I didn’t know I could feel like that.”
Heart pounding in his throat, Ryan wasn’t sure he was breathing anymore. He knew he was wanted, even if just for his body, and he never minded it. But hearing it out in the open, a sincere confession, urged him to crawl across the space between them and lose himself in Naim in a way he would never do otherwise.
Being reminded of the distance, he snapped out of his yearning haze. The entity knew Ryan, and it knew how badly he wanted to be wanted. Honest words or not, Naim was saying exactly what Ryan wanted to hear in this moment. He thought of ‘Naim’s’ hot mouth against his ear in the school bathroom and how terrified he was when he felt the flesh of his ear tear off. It knew, it knew all the tender moments that made his heart stutter, and it ripped them from him. It took these precious memories and poisoned them.
“I still don’t know if it’s really you.”
‘Naim’—Naim? picked up a small stone and tossed it in front of Ryan, missing him by a large margin. An invitation. “I haven’t attacked you yet. Sat here just like you wanted. We can keep talking if it would make you feel better.”
They conversed for a while. Ryan’s anger and fear subsided while his desire rose. Naim was still sat three meters from him, and if Ryan didn’t get his hands flush against his skin, he was going to die from deprivation before the entity could do it itself.
“Tell me something real.” Ryan’s request came from the edge of the precipice, his life in this Naim’s hands. If he were to take a plunge right now, the free fall needed to be worth it. Naim could make it worth it.
Naim chuckled, but Ryan was only looking at the way his lips parted with the sound. “Remember that day when you asked me if there was nothing I liked about this place?”
Ryan was suffocating under the weight of the implication, but it was already too late for him; he was tumbling off the cliff, drowning in the deep end. He managed a shaky. “Yes?”
“I like you.” Naim took a deep breath, as if steeling his own resolve. “You make this place worth staying in. Nothing else.”
He stumbled in hurry to get to his feet and launched himself at Naim.
Naim let himself fall back with Ryan on top of him, and they were kissing. The ravenous craving that was choking Ryan threatened to claw its way from where he tried so hard to bury it. It wanted more, it wanted to be closer to Naim, to be inside him, to consume him whole. And Ryan was tired of denying things that were true.
There was a hand in his hair, pulling him as Ryan was pushing into Naim until they were flush against each other. Heat radiated off where Ryan slipped his hand under that oversized hoodie and wished he could just take the damn thing off. Niam’s lips parted and Ryan graciously licked into his mouth, earning a soft whimper, and that moment Ryan knew he would never be able to refuse Naim anything.
It was freeing. Letting himself want. Letting himself be wanted. Ryan never thought it could be this way. Not with anyone, not with Hunter. Only Naim.
Naim bit down on his lip gently, and he wished it wasn’t. Ryan wanted to taste blood mixed with spit. He wanted Naim’s nails digging into his scalp and hips to leave crescent-shaped scars in his flesh that he could trace later, or for his mouth gasping against Ryan’s throat to suck a bruise where everyone could see. He wanted to belong somewhere, belong to someone. Ryan wanted to love and be loved loudly.
Unsure fingers tugged at his shirt, and Ryan understood immediately. He pulled back, drunk on the sight of Naim chasing his lips with a hazed expression and pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Naim’s eyes studied his body, starting at his collarbone and ending where his pants hugged his waist. He lifted a hand to trace the skin, and Ryan noted how his touch burned despite being so gentle. It finally rested on his lower back and pulled him closer.
“Fucking hell, Naim!” Ryan protested, but Naim was already nipping at his collarbones in a way that was driving him insane. But Ryan wouldn’t have him like this. In the dirt, where the whole world could see them and cast their judgement. If he was going to do this with Naim, he was going to do it right. “Naim, bedroom.”
The two of them kissed their way to Ryan’s bedroom, stumbling on the threshold. Naim’s hands were all over his chest, exploring as if his was the only body he had ever known, while Ryan felt out the curve of his ass through his jeans. When they finally made it to the bedroom, Naim pushed him down and Ryan pulled him up by his thighs so there was only fabric separating them.
It was Naim’s turn to pull away, and Ryan almost protested until he saw Naim’s fingers linger at the edge of his hoodie, suddenly unsure. Ryan would have begged him to do it if that’s what he wanted, but it was his turn to choose gentleness.
His thumb caressed Naim’s thigh and stared at him until he had no choice but to hold his gaze. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“I’ve never done this before.” Ryan could contemplate what taking one of Naim’s firsts meant to him, but now he had to make him feel safe.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Naim’s eyes softened, and finally his fingers closed around the edge of the hoodie, pulling his shirt off with it.
Ryan could only dream about seeing Naim like this, but no amount of fantasy compared to the real thing.
“You’re beautiful.”
Then Naim was kissing him again, and Ryan surrendered himself to his mercy.
He let himself indulge, hands running up and down warm, exposed skin before settling on Naim’s waist and pulling him down. Naim let out a soft laugh and kissed Ryan’s cheek, then his jaw, but hesitated by the shell of his ear that the doctors told him would leave a nasty scar. Ryan froze, suddenly self-conscious of his own damaged body under Naim’s flawless one. But Naim, beautiful, gentle Naim, pressed a soft kiss to it and sunk lower.
He tilted his head to give Naim more space to nip at his neck and gasped when he felt teeth grazing skin where his throat was the most sensitive. He bit down and Ryan saw stars.
“Naim, I—” I love you, I love you, I love you. I swear that’s true.
Sharp canines broke skin, sinking deep enough that Ryan yelled out in protest. Hands wrapped around his throat, cutting off his airflow.
Filled with terror, his hands clutched at Naim’s wrists, nails digging in an effort to pull him off, but it was too late. The entity’s cold eyes, void of Naim’s tenderness, pressed down further. He let himself get into this vulnerable position, and there was nothing he could do to save himself now.
The pain of his windpipe being crushed was nothing compared to the deep, burning agony of Ryan’s frail heart being torn to shreds as it dawned on him that this wasn’t his Naim. It was never going to be his Naim. He was a fool for ever thinking otherwise. Their talk about Naim wanting Ryan, trusting him enough to show him a part of him no one had ever seen before, telling him something.
Tears welled, a mixture of the lack of oxygen and the betrayal, spilling with each frantic blink. None of it was true, and Ryan didn’t know how long he could live with this constant uncertainty.
Ryan was tired of fighting, tired of the endless cycle of violence from his father, to Hunter and now to this. He let go of the entity pinning him down and closed his eyes, not wanting his memory of Naim be tainted in his last moments. He thought of Naim smiling in the afterglow. For a brief moment in time, kindness existed for Ryan, living proof that he was worth more than his father’s fists and some church healer’s words.
Ah, that’s right. I never got to tell him.
I forgive you, Naim.
Suddenly, the pressure lifted from his throat and body, and he gasped for air. Ryan rolled over, coughing his lungs out while his heart pounded in his chest and every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire. Black spots swam in his vision, and he heaved strangled breaths until the world focused. He surveyed the hole in the wall he put there when he was twelve and angry at everything. Ryan lifted his right hand, closing it and opening it tentatively, surprised that he was still alive.
The overhead light flickered on with the hum of electricity, and Ryan looked over to finally see his mother in his doorway, giving him a particularly disappointed look.
“Don’t leave your dirty shirt in the backyard, you’re almost an adult.”
“Yes, Mum.” Ryan’s voice came out hoarse.
She lingered in the doorway like a ghost, and to Ryan, maybe she already was one. “Come help me with dinner.”
He watched her disappear through the door she didn’t bother to close and ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t do this anymore. This sick game of the entity dangling hope in front of him, just to pull it away when Ryan gave in, would wear down his soul eventually. There was no other option.
Ryan needed to leave.
The mix of sleep deprivation and the early morning sun left a queasy feeling in his stomach. Ryan trained his eyes on the horizon and took slow, deep breaths. His parents didn’t ask questions when he left earlier with just a backpack slung across his shoulders, and they never will ask questions again. The bus was scheduled to arrive any second, and Ryan would leave behind this shitty town and the doubt that came with Naim’s love.
Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and a flicker of apprehension held him. Ryan stood alone at the bus stop, no one in this small town was ever in any hurry to leave. He saw 'Naim' walk up to him halfway, and all Ryan could do was wish for the bus to magically appear in front of him.
‘Naim’ paused for a second, scrutinizing him with unnecessary caution. Ryan held his gaze, realizing that this would be the last time he would see Naim.
The city held uncertainty, but at least he would never be alone. Maybe he’d live like Jessica, losing his mind in a hospital waiting room, the grief slowly driving him insane day by day. He could get a job at a 24/7 convenience store, chat the nights away with a coworker all while fighting the urge to take a step outside when he would see ‘Naim’ across the street.
If this was their goodbye, at least Ryan could remember Naim without his hands around his throat. He didn’t know why ‘Naim’ wasn’t attacking him, but instead taunted him once again with a version of Naim that was still kind to him.
The bus rolled to a stop, blocking Ryan’s view of ‘Naim.’
Ryan froze in his spot, eyes glued to where ‘Naim’ would have been. Wait, I’m not ready yet. He didn’t have enough time; he just needed one more second. Just another glimpse of the eyes that will haunt the rest of his days.
His feet remained rooted to the ground as his mind screamed at him to go. People were getting off the bus, relatives chatting about luggage and inquiring about their trip. The world was moving around him, yet Ryan was stuck. His father was right. He would never fight a single thing he loved.
The bus driver was yelling something, but ‘Naim’ reappeared from behind the bus, moving surely toward Ryan. People were unloading their bags, and there were people. There were people around them. Ryan was not alone.
Lips trembling, Ryan couldn’t stop himself from shaking when he spoke. “Please tell me it’s really you.”
It killed him to look away from ‘Naim’ even for a second, but Ryan had to check. He would not let this monster give him so much hope ever again. Surely enough, the people surrounding them were still in motion, and when he looked up, Naim was still looking at him.