The two parts of him

The first time he saw them together they were standing on the pavement outside the pub. His heart ached with his loss as he saw the man and Christian laughing, clearly sharing a funny story, a joke or even worse, a flirty innuendo.

He wanted to run over towards them, pull Christian away from the man and shout at him for daring to share his beautiful laugh with someone else. He watched longingly as Christian brushed his hand against the man's bare arm. He remembered that feeling of electric shock when Christian used to touch him and he wondered whether the man had just experienced the same powerful sensation.

He missed him more than he ever thought a person could miss someone. What had begun as the scratching of an itch, on that June evening, had turned into something he had lost control over. He spun round as he heard a noise coming from outside his house. It was Amira and his parents, leaving for the Mosque. Tamwar was trailing behind them. He looked sad, no doubt fed up with their mother's match-making. "You want a beautiful wife like your brother, don't you? Then you will do as you're told". He looked back towards Christian and the nameless man.

The two parts of him were colliding on the spot where he stood. His mother could exert her control over whose bed his physical body would sleep in but she was powerless over where his heart and mind slept every night.

"Where's Syed?" Amira frowned.

"Bye Christian", he whispered into the air, turning away. He didn't want to look anymore. He didn't hate the man. He envied him. He was free to be with the most beautiful man in the world.

"I'm here, Princess", he called, his painted smile not quite meeting his lifeless eyes.