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They settled in the cheapest motel that they could find. It was one big brick block of rooms, almost entirely vacant. The receptionist was an overweight elderly woman who didn't look them in their eyes. Ryan had felt dignified when he asked for a room with one double bed. Naim had hidden behind his shoulder shyly. He'd gathered his life savings, from summer jobs to his father's cash to pocket change, with one singular goal in mind — to leave. Naim had coins in his pockets. They probably had $300 or so between them. The motel was $55 each a night. They were in the city, away from it all. Ryan wanted out from Victoria entirely. The motel and the bus ride left them with something like $175. Naim was so frightened he was basically vibrating with it. Ryan could feel his terror like heatwaves on black concrete. He was, as well. He was so terrified that it wasn't really him. That it was all some kind of elaborate trick.
The room was bland. A pot plant, a bed, a lamp, some drawers. Beige, peeling chevron wallpaper. A mini fridge with some milk inside, a microwave. A bible on the nightshade. Ryan pointed to it with a half-assed smirk. Naim tried to smile back at him.
"Are you hungry?" Ryan asked. He was so hungry that he'd reached the point of numbness. The waiting area had one vintage-looking vending machine half-stocked with lollies and chocolate bars. In a daze, Ryan had put ten dollars in and bought 4 different sweets wrapped in plastic for their dinner as the cashier had gathered their keys for them. He'd felt oddly domestic about it all.
"Yeah," Naim said. Ryan handed him a KitKat. They both sat on the bed and ate in silence. The moment Ryan bit into his own he felt as if he could cry. Nothing had ever tasted so good in his life. He closed his eyes, letting the chocolate melt in his mouth and rolling it along his gums.
"Fuck." Naim said, almost laughing. Ryan peeked his eyes open to see his friend (friend?) in a similar state, leaning back on his elbows.
Ryan stood up and laid their cash out on the set of drawers to begin counting. There would probably be some kind of Youth Shelter nearby. Maybe Naim had family who they could stay with who weren't batshit crazy. As he counted, Ryan became aware of the tingling sensation creeping up his legs. He was so tired he could barely feel his fingertips. His veins felt thick with tenderness.
"I need to pee," Naim said from behind him. Ryan flinched as he turned.
"Okay."
Naim didn't move. He scratched his elbow, shyly shrugging. "Come with me? Please?"
Ryan did so without question. It would be cruel to tease. The bathroom was tiny, a shower that was only protected by a curtain, a sink, and a toilet. There was a stock image of palm trees on a sunny day nailed to the tiled wall. Ryan turned to face the shower when Naim began to unzip his jeans.
"Wait," Naim said, so soft it was almost a whisper. "Can you watch me?"
Ryan turned back around. He watched his friend's face in silence as he pissed. Naim was obviously embarrassed about this, blushing and everything. If it had been only a few months ago, Ryan would've eyed up Naim's dick, maybe even try to touch him. Ryan wondered if Naim would still let him. Looking at his face, the blush across his cheeks, Ryan was somehow convinced that he still would.
"Do you need to go?" Naim's small hand ghosted over the flush button.
"Nah," As he said this, Ryan realised just how thirsty he was. The chocolate had dried out his mouth. He leant down to the sink to drink from the tap. It was so refreshing. The stream splashed all over his face, getting his hair and cheeks sopping. When he pulled himself back up, Naim was staring at him. He wiped his face with the back of his hand. "Sorry. You can wash your hands."
Naim moved next to him, so close their arms brushed. He let the tap run over his fingers for a second or so before shaking them off. The droplets got on Ryan's shirt.
"Better now?" Ryan asked softly. There was a strange sense of feeling as if they had to whisper. As if someone was listening.
"Yeah," Naim murmured. He was looking at Ryan as if he wanted to kiss him. His eyes were glossy with tears. That was how he'd acted, when he was something else. It had cried at his door, told Ryan how scared it was. How it needed him. When Ryan pulled Naim close to him and pressed kisses to his scalp, he could smell him. He could feel his heartbeat, his breath against his collarbone. This was real. He wanted to speak, but he was sure he couldn't without crying. His throat was thick with unshed tears. He rubbed his hands under his shirt, feeling the expanse of Naim's skin. He didn't want to do anything else. He just wanted to know that it was real. He let the tension go, the feeling that at any moment he could hurt him.
They stood like that for what could've been minutes. Ryan felt like a horse falling asleep on it's legs, as if their embrace was the only thing stopping him from toppling over and collapsing on the stained tile floor. "Let's go to bed, OK?"
Naim nodded into his chest. "Okay."
Ryan reached his hand down to hold Naim's. Naim's palm felt so small and cold inside of his own. Ryan squeezed it, and smiled at him in what he hoped read as reassurance. They walked back into the living area. Their home, Ryan thought, crazily. It felt like home, for that moment.
Unspoken, they both began to undress whilst staring at one another. They stripped to their underwear. Naim raised his thin arms to shield his pale body.
"Are you cold?"
"No."
"Do you want another KitKat?"
"No. I'll have it tomorrow."
"Okay."
Ryan closed all the curtains and locked the door before he got into bed. The mattress was stiff and hard and the duvet was flimsy, but he still felt as if he was sinking into it. He peeked his eyes open to see Naim hovering next to him, staring, his hand ghosting over the pull of the lampshade. He readjusted, stretching his body out in the queen-sized bed. "You alright?"
"Yeah," Naim muttered. Then, "Can we keep the light on?"
Ryan couldn't help the smile that grew across his face. "Course. Get in."
Naim slid under the covers skittishly. He was over to one side of the bed, stiff as a board. Ryan scoffed and let his eyes fall shut. As he did, images of the past weeks flashed across his mind. How it had felt to have his ear bashed against the bathroom sink. The cool-dead look in not-Naim's eyes. The feeling of his hands around Ryan's chest. The inhuman strength it had. The hate it carried in it's body. He could still see the flame flicker, from the day it began. All those people crowded around him as if he was a zoo animal. His family, his teachers, speaking of his lust. The humiliation of it all, of everyone knowing his fucking business.
Before all of it, Ryan had never really believed in God or the Devil. He thought it was all a bunch of bullshit that his dad regurgitated to make him feel guilty about being the way he is. It wasn't human, though. That was what fucked Ryan up. There was no plausible it.
He could hear Ryan rocking back and forth next to him, shifting positions in attempt to sleep. He wanted to reach out and touch him to make sure it wasn't there. To keep Naim safe. To keep himself safe.
"Ryan?" Naim whispered.
Ryan kept his eyes closed. "Yeah?"
"I'm cold."
Ryan opened his eyes. He was half expecting it to have taken his Naim's place, with bloody skin and hate in it's eyes. It was his Naim. He was mostly sure.
In the dim light, it looked as if Naim had been crying. His eyes were puffy and his skin was shiny. Ryan reached his hand out, under the blanket, to touch his chest. Naim flinched before allowing it.
"Is that okay?" Ryan spread his hand across Naim's chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was so quick.
"Yeah," Naim whispered. "Um. Can you… hold me?"
A grin spread across Ryan's face. He reached both arms out and curled them around his body. Naim shuffled closer. Both of his arms were held inside their bodies, tucked against their chests. Naim rubbed their ankles together, intertwining their legs. Ryan couldn't remember the last time he'd been so close to somebody.
Their faces fit perfectly in the space in the other's neck. If he killed me now, Ryan thought, I wouldn't mind.
Naim started to cry. Ryan tried to be strong. He stroked his back. "It's okay. I know. It's me. You're safe. We're safe."
"I'm sorry," Naim said.
"I know. I know."
"It's all my fault," Naim's voice turned ugly with snot and tears. Ryan pulled back and kissed him, close-mouthed, on the mouth. His mouth was salty with everything. Naim kept on crying.
They woke up late the next morning, in the same position. They ate the rest of the candy bars and washed their mouths out with tap water. They showered together, which was mostly cold and cramped. They both got hard. It was the first time they'd ever properly been naked with one another, entirely. The container of liquid soap was almost empty. Ryan rubbed it all in his hair, all over his body. Naim watched him. He kept staring at Ryan's cock with those brown eyes in pure wanton hunger that made Ryan feel insane with arousal. He wanted to push him to his knees and force it into his mouth. He wanted to clean his hole out then eat him out in the shower. Naim's eyes traveled back up to Ryan's when he saw him looking, and he scoffed bashfully and looked to the floor.
"You want me to wash you?" Ryan asked. Naim nodded wordlessly. Ryan loved the idea of him in pleasure. He replayed that moment on the bus over and over again in his head. The way he had begged and gone limp in his grip. He sudded up his hands and drew them across either side of Naim's slender torso. They weren't exactly kissing, just breathing into each other's mouths. Naim inhaled sharply, his cock flush and untouched against his stomach. Ryan ignored it, moving his hands to rub at Naim's pink nipples, hard with the cold. Ryan had felt them press against his chest the night before.
"Fuck you," Naim whimpered. He was rubbing his cock against Ryan's thigh, almost humping him. "Touch me, you dickhead."
"I am touching you," Ryan loved this. He couldn't believe he had the real thing.
"Touch my —" Naim cut himself off with a moan when Ryan pinched at his nipples. "Fuck. Touch my — my — my dick."
"Okay," Ryan reached his soapy hand down to grip both of their cocks. They moaned as he jerked them in unison, feeling the underside of the other's hard cock rubbing against them.
"You like that?" Ryan gasped out. Naim was squirming and letting out these pathetic little whimpers.
"Y-yeah. Yeah, I do."
"You gonna come?" Ryan fastened his pace. Naim let out a higher moan and began thrusting up into Ryan's palm. He was all talk.
"Yeah. I am."
"You're gonna come for me, baby?" Ryan wasn't even thinking, it felt so good. Water pooled at their feet.
"Fuck — yeah — I'm gonna —" Naim stiffened as he came, his eyes rolling back in his head and his hands reaching for the wall. It was so hard, and long, it got all over Ryan's cock and calloused hands. The visual alone was enough for Ryan to follow behind him, coming all over Naim's dick and tummy with an animalistic grunt.
They both panted in the come down, laughing and kissing one another. Naim reached down between them and gathered their come together in his hand.
"It's all mixed up," he said. "You couldn't tell who's who."
"Yeah," Ryan murmured. Naim raised a come-covered finger to his mouth and sucked it off. Ryan's cock twitched against Naim's leg.
"Fuck you," he laughed. "You're such an asshole. We have to go soon."
"Can I suck you next time?" Naim said through a grin.
"Fuck off," Ryan grunted. "We have to get out of here."
They gathered their things. Naim only had the same clothes he'd been wearing when he left. Both of their phones were dead. They could fit their entire lives into Ryan's torn-up backpack.
They went back to reception and asked the receptionist if there was any Youth Shelters nearby. She named one, circling it on the paper map Ryan handed her.
"It's a long walk," she said. "Over an hour."
"Do you know what bus would go in that direction?" Naim asked.
"I'm not sure," she muttered. "If you go down the road, there's a bus stop there that goes further into the city. There's routes on the side. Or, you could ask someone there."
"Thank you," Ryan said, meaning it. She looked up at him and gave him a smile.
They walked in almost silence to the bus stop. The houses surrounding them were big, with large picket fences like in American films. Little dogs barked at them when they walked by.
"You know," Naim said, "Most of these rich people would let us stay with them. Nobody cares, out here. If we told them that we ran away from our homophobic parents and stuff, they'd feel really bad. It's a good sob story."
Ryan smiled. "So, if I went into one of these houses and told them my boyfriend's all cut up by our big-bad priest, they'd give us food?"
Naim blushed. "Your boyfriend?"
Ryan scoffed and pushed him playfully. The force of it still off put his feet, making him stumble off the footpath. Guilt washed over Ryan. He'd hurt him, when it wasn't him. It was self defense, but it had Naim's face. It had cried and told him to stop. Made itself weak.
"You okay?" he grabbed Naim's sleeve.
"Yeah," Naim mumbled. He kept walking.
"Hey, I'm sorry."
"It's alright," he muttered. "Just play fighting."
Ryan thought of Hunter. Throwing rocks at him in his backyard. He thought of before it all, how when he pinned Naim to the floor, he'd let him without resistance.
There were some people around their age waiting for the bus. Both Ryan and Naim were quiet people in large crowds, it was hard forcing themselves to ask for help in this way. Naim spoke to them.
"Hi," he said. They looked up from their phones. "Sorry. Excuse me. We're looking to go this way." He showed them their map, pointing to the circled point. Ryan felt as if they were pirates. "Do you know what bus would take us there?"
They told them. It was in twenty minutes. They waited. Talked. Ryan missed his phone. He missed his music. Ryan asked Naim, hopelessly, if he had any family or friends nearby that they could stay with. He must've known people before that shitty town. Good people. Naim shrugged and shook his head.
"I don't know," he murmured. "I was like, twelve. Only childhood friends, and that. I don't even remember their last names. Plus, what if they told my mum?"
"It's worth remembering," Ryan mumbled. He missed his bedroom.
The bus came. They sat. Talked. It was crowded. Ryan thought about when he'd touched Naim, that night. How he'd gripped the seat in front of them and gasped against his throat.
It took them awhile to find the shelter. They were both tired and hungry. Somewhere along the way, Ryan reached over to hold Naim's hand as they walked. He felt Naim soften.
It was a block of little white weatherboard apartments. Ryan had expected a large warehouse of single beds laid out like desks in a school hall.
The process of getting beds was long. They had to fill out a lot of forums. It felt as if they didn't want them to stay there, with how much effort was put in making sure they had other options. They tried suggesting they could stay in separate rooms. Ryan told them he'd rather sleep on the street.
They were given dinner — Mac'n'cheese. It was their first meal of the day. Ryan went back for seconds and shared them with Naim. There were a lot of kids there. None of them tried to make conversation. Ryan was grateful for this.
They were given new clothes, and a room with two other boys. There were two sets of bunk beds. Ryan would climb down to Naim to sleep alongside him at night. The other boys didn't speak to them.
They stayed there for a week. The workers were kind. They didn't speak to anyone but each other. They learned how to live as one person, always with each other. Surprisingly, the transformation didn't take long at all. It still felt wrong, interacting when others could see them.
They recounted their entire lives, start to finish. Naim told Ryan about his father. Ryan told Naim about his. Naim told Ryan about his monster, what it had done to him. It made Ryan feel sick. He tried to hide it. He felt so protective over Ryan. The thought of anyone — anything — hurting him made his head ache. He felt sick at the thought of that dirty fuck putting his fingers on Naim's face. Of his mother looking away when he was screaming and kicking. Ryan told Naim about his mother. About Hunter. About his fucked-up life. Naim listened. He seemed to really, truly care.
The two boys were out one day. Naim was straddling Ryan. They were talking, like normal.
"When it was me," Naim began, slow, "What was it like? How did it act?"
Ryan raised his hand to stroke Naim's arm. "It was you. I don't know what to say."
"But it…" Naim trailed off. "I mean, it's your ideal version of me. What did he do?"
"Are you seriously jealous of yourself right now?"
"No," Naim laughed, smacking him on the chest. "I want to know what you like."
Ryan grabbed the wrist of the hand that hit hit him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"It was you," Ryan said. "It was just like you."
"Fuck you, I know that. What did it do?"
"It…" Ryan trailed off, feeling himself blush. "It was shy. It… I don't know. It tried to kiss me, and stuff."
"Same," Naim said. "What else?"
"I don't know," Ryan didn't love thinking about it. "It like — fuck. It's embarrassing."
"What?"
"It sucked me off. In the photo booth. When you were — was that you there? Outside?"
Naim nodded. His eyes were dark. "Can I show you something?"
"Yeah, course."
Naim rolled off of the bed to grab something from his coat pocket. He picked it up to show to Ryan. He couldn't make it out immediately. They were thin strips of glossy paper. Photo booth pictures, he realized. These were from the photo booth.
It was him. Kissing nothing. He remembered it. Him being there. In the photo, it was —
"Fuck," he felt cold. "You have to get rid of those. That's fucking creepy."
Naim looked up at him. "Really? Why?"
"I'm serious, Naim, that's —" he was panting. "That's freaking me out. You were— it was there. Fuck. That's fucking scary."
"Hey, hey," Naim put them on the bed, moving to straddle him. "It's okay. It's gone."
Ryan couldn't calm his breathing. He nodded, wordlessly.
"I'll burn them, alright?" Naim reached into his back pocket, grabbing their lighter. "Right now."
"Later. When we're outside." Ryan muttered, his breathing slowing. Naim's weight on him was soothing. "Jesus, you're a creep. You stole those?"
Naim smiled at him, "Yeah. You're not done telling me."
"Telling you what?" Ryan licked his lips. "What it did?"
"Yeah. Was that the first time? In the photo booth?"
Ryan shook his head. "No."
Naim looked eager. "What happened the first time?"
"You…" Ryan shook his head. "It didn't get that far the first time. We were in school. In the bathroom. You… You were touching me. You asked me to, ah. Fuck you."
Naim's expression darkened. "What did you say?"
"I said…" Ryan swallowed thickly. "I wanted to. Then it… you were kissing my neck. Here." He pulled Naim's hand to touch his pulse point. "They it tried biting me. And digging it's fingers into my skin, hard. Then I ran away, back into the hallway."
"And you still wanted me? After that?"
"Yeah," Ryan leaned in close to Naim's mouth. "I wanted you the whole time."
Naim's breathing hitched. "On the night after… when we were alone. How did it get to you?"
Ryan gripped Naim's waist. "It came to me scared. It's voice… it was all bloody. You had cuts on your face. You were shaking like a greyhound. It looked just like you. You asked me to let you in. I told you to fuck off at first, but I… I dunno. I believed it. It seemed so real. Like, exactly what you would've said."
Naim nodded. "Go on."
"I let it in, to clean you up, then it, you know. It started choking me," Ryan felt himself crying. His voice was wobbly. He looked Naim in the eyes. "I hurt you, Naim. I really hurt you. I bashed your head against my table. And you made these noises… like…"
"Hey, hey," Naim held Ryan's face. "I'm glad you did, okay? You needed to. It wasn't me. It was evil. You were protecting yourself."
Naim wrapped his arms around Ryan's head, pulling his face into his chest. Ryan cried so hard it wet his shirt, his whole body shaking with it. Naim soothed him, trying to stroke his hair as Ryan had to him.
The shelter had required chores. They were separated for this. Naim saw it one day. He screamed. One of the worker's found him first, then Ryan. He flinched when he saw him. It wasn't over, he realized. It's still there.
Ryan held him for hours, telling him that he was real. That they would be alright. Naim was so close to him, all the time, as if he was his shadow.
They still fucked. It was mind-blowingly great, as it always had been with them. It was quiet. Naim sucked Ryan off the second night of their stay while the other boy's slept. He'd kissed him down his chest, rubbed his face against Ryan's clothed erection. Ryan could barely look at him. When Naim took him in his mouth and hollowed out his cheeks, Ryan was already gasping and writhing in pleasure. Naim had pulled off and asked him to fuck his face. He told him he wanted it. Ryan did. Naim had almost no gag reflex. It felt fucked up, guiding someone's face on his cock. It reached so far down the spongey base of Naim's throat. Naim's eyes would grow glassy. He loved it. He asked Ryan to come down his throat.
Ryan sucked him off after that. Naim never lasted long. He was big talk, but the moment Ryan started touching him, he softened into a whining mess. Ryan loved the feel of him in his mouth. He loved having Naim in pleasure. He loved manipulating his orgasms. Pulling back when he was about to come. Looking him in his eyes.
Naim had confessed that he'd finger himself, sometimes. This drove Ryan insane. He'd started ghosting his fingers over Naim's hole as he sucked him, teasing. Naim would whine, "Please."
The first time Ryan fucked him, they were both almost entirely silent. It was spiritual. Naim was on his back, his ankles digging into Ryan's back. They were under the covers. They breathed life into each other's mouths. Naim's expression was so lost in it. "You love it," Ryan had repeated, in awe. He couldn't believe it. Naim had come entirely untouched. Ryan came seeing it. He asked him afterwards if it had hurt. Naim had shook his head, told him it was perfect.
"We have to leave this place," Naim mumbled one day.
"I know," Ryan ran a knuckle across Naim's hand. "We can get jobs. We can live together. For real."
"Do you really believe that?" Naim was lying against the bed. They felt static.
"I do," Ryan reached down to hold him. "I do."