17. bravado

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

BRAVADO

—

"Okay, wait, can we stop the car?"

Dmitri paused, glancing at Tariq. "Uh— okay? Why?"

"So that I don't push you out in case you say something stupid."

I should be saying that to you. Eyes roaming around his surroundings, he finally found a spot where he could pull over, a tiny alleyway with houses on one side and a footpath on the other, a simple brick wall behind it.

"This would be so fucking creepy if I didn't know that if you tried to murder me, your chaotic ass would make so much fucking noise," Tariq stated as he shoved his phone back into the pocket of his jeans, his t-shirt coming untucked on the right side as he did.

"I'm not going to fucking murder you, don't be ridiculous," Dmitri muttered, parking his car and stepping out, his heart pounding in his chest, so hard, and so loud that he was almost sure that Tariq could hear it.

And that was confirmed when Tariq snorted, nudging Dmitri and taking a seat right there, on the footpath.

"Uh— are we just sitting here?" What the fuck? "On the footpath?"

Tariq did the weirdest shit, sometimes.

Shrugging, Tariq reached up until his fingers managed to touch Dmitri's jacket, before tugging at it and gesturing for him to sit down.

"No one's around, we can sit here," he said. "Worst comes to worst, someone passes by and thinks we're fucking meditating on the side of the road or something."

"At the way you're making my stress levels sky-rocket, I think I'm going to have to meditate soon enough, anyway."

But still, Dmitri sat down on the footpath, bringing his knees up to his chest, hoping and praying that no one would walk by, because if they did, he'd simply have to pass away from the embarrassment.

For a moment, the two of them were silent, the only sound being the cars speeding by in the adjacent street, and the occasional chatter from the houses opposite the footpath. Should I be saying something, or— ?

Just as Dmitri was about to say something along the lines of, 'This is fucking stupid,' Tariq spoke, his voice hesitant as he said, "You know that there's no actual, concrete reason that we broke up, right?"

"Jumping right into it, I see," Dmitri mumbled, his mind all mashed up in his head. "Before we start, though, I think you should know that you're genuinely such a dick."

Those words were not supposed to leave his mouth. That wasn't the plan.

Tariq snorted. "I know, Dmitri. That's—"

"No, no, you don't," Dmitri interrupted, shaking his head as the words just tumbled out of his mouth. "You don't know how much of a dick you are— well, you've become. I know that you don't mean to be, but you are. And holy fucking shit, it's a pain to deal with," he rambled, continuing despite Tariq opening his mouth to speak.

Just tell him. "It just frustrates me so much when you push me away, tell me to fuck off, leave every single time shit gets even semi-rough. Literally every time. For example, this morning. We were doing fucking fine last night, and this morning, you told me to fuck off. I don't fucking understand. Like— I genuinely don't want to dislike you— well, sometimes I do— but you make it really hard not to.

"And I get that I should have told you that you spilled about your ex. I get that." I'm talking too much, fuck. "What I don't get is when you gave me that shit about I didn't force you to come help me, when you knew that I would have come whether or not you forced me to. I'll fully admit that I was the worse person back then, but that was the fucking past. You're being a terrible person right now, and I know that you're not a terrible person, you're just acting like one. I'm just— I'm so frustrated."

Finally, he was done.

And everything was quiet. Nobody was talking.

Thirty seconds later, Tariq eventually broke the silence with a weak exhale, and a hoarse, "Holy fuck."

"What?"

Tariq just shook his head, his fingers grabbing on each other, one of his multiple nervous habits. "That was... Necessary, I think."

Is that it? Cracking a tiny smile, a feeble one, Dmitri shrugged, heart still racing from his explosion. "Yeah," he muttered, hand involuntarily reaching up to touch his chest, as if that would calm his racing heart.

Another thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of pure silence. Until Tariq said, "I'm sorry. For... everything, I guess. For constantly leaving the situation when shit gets rough. Everything. Formed a habit over the past few years. I don't want to be like— toxic, or anything. Never want to be a toxic person, a person people would want to cut off their lives. I'm sorry. Also, you were never the worse person back then, so—"

"Wait," Dmitri interrupted, shooting Tariq an apologetic smile when he let out a huff of annoyance at being interrupted. "Sorry. Just—" Do we have to talk about it? Do we really? "Do we have to talk about it?"

Tariq snorted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he said, "You and I both know that if we don't talk about this now, we're never going to talk about it, and we won't be able to work in the same place, let alone survive a car ride together, without jumping at every opportunity to argue. We're immature as fuck, Dmitri."

The fact that it had been nearly two months since they saw each other at The Blackbird, and all that they had done was fight was... confusing, to say the least.

Guess I'll go first then.*

"You do realise that you shoved me back into the closet?" he blurted before his mind could even process his own words, venom on his tongue, it should've poisoned him, but he had grown immune. "That I spent a whole year trying to build up the courage to come out as queer, only to get told by my parents that it was a sin, and then a year later, get told by you that I couldn't even be myself."

The words were just coming out now, poisonous little darts that he was throwing at Tariq, aiming right where it stung, where he was already wounded.

"There's nothing worse than your own boyfriend telling you to stop holding your hand in public because he's too afraid that someone will see the two of you being in a relationship."

Lips pursing together, Tariq let out a deep sigh, tucking his hands away from sight, and almost immediately, Dmitri knew that he was picking at the skin around his nails.

"And you do realise that my family is literally a traditional Pakistani family?" Tariq shot back, voice rough, it always got rougher, more brittle when he was angry. Always sounded like he was on the verge of tears, when in reality, he was the one who would probably cause the tears. "I was scared. I know that that doesn't make sense to you, because you like to pretend that nothing scares you, but I was fucking terrified," he rambled, as if Dmitri didn't know that he was terrified, as if his behaviour during the time that they dated didn't convey it.

This was the worst conversation to be having on the side of the road, seated on a dirty footpath, especially if things didn't go smoothly. Because then, their ride back home would turn out to be very awkward.

"And now your parents are accepting," Dmitri scoffed, the irony of the situation just so incredibly ridiculous to him. "Funny how I come out, and my parents turn out to be fucking Jesus stans, but you don't come out, and your parents turn out to be just fine."

Tariq shook his head, a puff of air leaving his nostrils. "It took a whole year for them to understand. It wasn't fucking easy for me to stay closeted, so—"

"It wasn't easy for me to pretend as if we were just best friends whenever we were in school, in your house, on our fucking dates, either," Dmitri interrupted harshly, even though he knew just how much this was hurting Tariq.

Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he didn't know Tariq as well as he thought he did.

Letting out a groan of exasperation, Tariq wiped his face down with his hand and said, "I can't understand how you're not even seeing my point of view. It was so fucking hard for me to come out to them, get over the internalised homophobia and actually be the person that I wanted to be, and you're not even seeing that! I know that the closeted one always gets the bad rep, is seen as the coward, but shit, Dmitri, it was just as difficult for me as it was for you," he pointed out, getting louder and louder with each word.

"That's fucking great," Dmitri scoffed, looking up at the sky, pinks and purples blending into one. Too pretty for the conversation which was taking place. "That's great that you managed to do that, but you shoved me back into a place that I didn't want to be in. And I had to listen to all your needs. I had to—"

This time, Tariq was the one who interrupted him, with a bitter, "Your mental health was in literal fucking shambles, Dmitri. I didn't want to bring this up, but you had an undiagnosed mental illness, and my parents and I were the only ones who believed you. I always put your needs first, and you know that."

Maybe the both of them had put each other's needs first. Maybe that was the problem.

God, everything fucking hurt.

Reliving events that he wasn't even fully mentally stable for wasn't Dmitri's favourite thing to do.

"Do you want a fucking award?" he said, even though he didn't know what the fuck they were even doing anymore, why they were arguing, what they were arguing about. "No one forced you to stay."

We were just having a conversation like this. Fuck.

Tariq laughed at that. A genuine laugh. "You seem to forget that I was in love with you." Too much. This is becoming too much. My heart is fucking racing. "And even if I wasn't, I wasn't about to leave, that's—"

"My heart is fucking pounding, Tariq, holy fuck, we need to stop for a second. Please."

Immediately, Tariq stopped talking, his head snapping to the side, the worry prominent on his face. And the hurt, and the bitterness, and the everything.

To anyone else, he would have looked blank, but to Dmitri, his emotions were always so expressive in the most low-key way possible. One of the reasons he had fallen so fucking hard for him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, warily looking Dmitri up and down. "I'm sorry. Was that too much? I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Tariq had gotten better at apologising, at least. At least there was that.

But still, the racing of his heart wasn't stopping.

I hate this. I hate this so much, this is exactly what Tariq was talking about, oh my—

"I'm sorry," Tariq repeated, softer this time. "Your mental health is a touchy topic, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up," he murmured, but when Dmitri still didn't reply, the words taking a bit too long to process, he placed a hand on his knee, and just kept it there.

For a whole five seconds, he just kept his hand on his knee.

Then, finally, when Dmitri's mouth caught up with his brain, he replied with a small, "It's just— it's a lot. To take in. You telling me that you were in love with me, even though you rarely ever said it before. You walking around with your painted nails and your eyeliner, and being so unapologetically yourself. Everything."

Why isn't my fucking heart calming down? Holy fucking—

"Dmitri. I'm sorry," Tariq muttered, and only then did he realise that they were both being so fucking ridiculous, it was unreal. But before he could tell Tariq that, he continued with a soft, "I'm sorry for bringing up your mental health and shit. I know that that was a really bad time for you, I'm sorry."

"I'm fine, just—"

"Your hands are shaking, you're not fucking fine."

Interlacing his fingers together, Dmitri nodded, despite his brain being a whole fucking tsunami, crashing and falling, waves roaring in his ears. There was just so much noise, and the air just wasn't clear enough, nothing would be clear enough until the two of them actually cleared it.

"This is ridiculous" he began, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. "The main reason why we broke up was because you weren't out, and I was trying to shove you out of the closet, while you were trying to shove me back in. Well, you're out now, and—"

Again, Tariq laughed. "That wasn't the main reason. Sure, that was the big reason or whatever, but it was more about— how aggressive we got towards each other because we weren't on the same wavelength? Does that make sense?" he asked, and for the first time in a long, long time, the two of them understood each other.

"Mhm."

"I mean, we got really fucking rude to each other when we weren't— I don't know, when we were on different pages. We said a lot of rude shit that definitely don't need repeating."

"Definitely not."

Nodding, Tariq folded his hands on his knees, his voice smooth when he said, "Yeah. I was never mad about why you broke up with me. I understood. I was just— you were really fucking rude, Dmitri. That's why I'm so fucking pissed at you all the time, because there was no need for you to be that rude."

I know. Fuck, I know.

He stopped for a second, letting out a quick breath, before saying, "I know that that sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth. No matter how shit things got, there was no fucking need for you to ridicule me for not being able to come out. Everyone has different experiences, different thought processes."

Oh my fucking god, I know.

One of Dmitri's biggest regrets was telling Tariq that he was being dramatic for not 'getting over it and coming out, already'.

"I just don't get how it's entirely my fault, when it's not," Dmitri stressed, finally saying the shit that he had wanted to say for so fucking long. "You're the one who continues to be a dick, all the fucking time. From the moment we saw each other again, you've been a complete asshole, save for my dramatic ass depressive episode—"

"Don't call it that."

"— And I mean..." Inhaling softly, he shifted his gaze to the ground, his next words too heavy, too full of tension for him to even look at Tariq. Say it. Fucking say it. "This was one of the reasons I broke up with you. You're too nice to me when I'm fucking depressed. You did it now, too. And then, as soon as I'm okay, you think it's a free pass to be a dick again. It's not."

Tariq was silent for a second, just one second, before he muttered, "I'm not going to interrupt this time. Finish what you're saying."

That's new. "Either be a fucking dick to me when I'm— actually, no, don't be a dick to me when I'm depressed, I'll probably go off the rails. Just... Don't be a dick to me. At all. So that your niceness isn't out of pity. Because right now, and then, too, it felt like it was."

He didn't even realise that that was what bothered him the most until he finished, and the air was suddenly pure.

The air was pure, and he wasn't choking on the poison in his throat anymore, and he was finally breathing.

Fuck, did it feel nice to breathe around Tariq without the familiar taste of Why is he being nice? mixed with Is this what sympathy feels like? coating his palate.

"I'm sorry," Tariq muttered. Then, louder, he said, "That's one thing that I genuinely didn't even realise I was doing. What the fuck? I'm sorry. Fuck."

Dmitri just laughed, the whole situation way too absurd for him to do anything else other than laugh. "It's so wild to me that you're out. And you're so fucking confident in yourself, and just everything. I mean, you've probably been out for a while now, but this whole thing where you're just as confident in your sexuality as I am is so wild. But in a good way." In a really good way.

Fingers picking off the nail polish on his hands, Tariq hummed, a small smile on his face. "I don't think the two of us know how to be friends."

"We can start afresh," Dmitri suggested. "I mean, we can do the whole acquaintances thing, right?" he asked, even though acquaintances wouldn't be enough, it would never be enough.

Tariq snorted, small smile breaking out into a full blown grin. "Acquaintances who joke about wanting to fuck each other?"

"Who said I was joking?"

"I hate that I don't know if you're kidding or not."

Cracking a smile at that, Dmitri shrugged. "Only time will tell," he mused, even though time would definitely not tell.

The two of them were quiet, just for a moment, until the sound of ruffling was heard, Tariq rummaging for something in the pocket of his jeans, before he pulled his hand out, exactly six cough drops coming out with it.

"You might want to keep these. Took one this morning, sorry," he mumbled, bumping shoulders with Dmitri, or at least trying to, his shoulders being at Dmitri's upper arm level.

"They're for you." Weirdo, he wanted to add, but he kept it to himself.

Tariq shook his head, taking Dmitri's hand in his own, holy fuck, his hands were so warm, and placing the cough drops in his hand. "Keep them. As backup."

"For myself? You're the one who needs them."

"Jesus, no," Tariq muttered, closing Dmitri's fist for him. "You're so annoying. Making me have to explain everything to you."

"I'm still confused." When am I not?

"Backup for me, stupid."

Oh. Okay. Dmitri smiled. "Are you banking on the fact that we're going to be spending more time together, now that we're okay?" he asked, a soft laugh leaving his mouth as he did, because holy shit, they had actually managed to talk to Tariq without snapping at him, and they had somehow ended on a good note.

"Yeah, I mean— am I not supposed to?"

Dmitri smiled, dropping the cough drops into the pocket of his jacket. "No, you are. We're good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Holy fuck. "Yeah, we're good."

—

+3175

AN: anyway um yeah this chapter has a lot of chunky paragraphs my bad

is this the end of the angst? idk bro u tell me

(it is)

so. thank u all for reading💓 have a good day !! lmk how it's been if u want 🥰❤️ until next time 💓