37. blink

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

BLINK

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tariq :) -

do u wanna hang out tomorrow 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

tariq :) -

my bad, *😌

dmitri🖤 -

those emojis aren't even next to each other lmaooo

tariq :) -

blocked :P

Dmitri grinned, quickly scrolling through the rest of the conversation that they had had yesterday, going through approximately three hundred and twenty eight messages. And that was only till eleven p.m., he hadn't even gotten to after midnight yet.

Getting into his car, he began to drive to Tariq's house since he had said that he wasn't really feeling up to going out, the only thing keeping him company the soft hum of an artist that Tariq had told him to listen to the other day.

The number of times Tariq had apologised last night about not wanting to go out left Dmitri feeling genuinely upset, because it sucked to see Tariq think that it was his fault that they weren't going out.

He always did that— blamed himself for his body. The blaming himself and the guilt had evidently lessened, there was no denying that, but still, from time to time, it would shine through.

And no matter how many times Dmitri told him that it really was okay that he was tired, and that he, too, preferred staying in to going out, Tariq never fucking listened.

So, when Dmitri reached his house, he wasn't surprised to see the apologetic, almost guilty smile on Tariq's face as he greeted him with a small, "Hey. I'm sorry. About this."

Lips shifting from his welcoming smile to a frown, Dmitri entered the house, routinely removing his shoes as he always did when he went to Tariq's house, placing his own car keys and house keys in the bowl near the door because the last time he had visited Tariq's place, he had forgotten to take his house keys with him.

"You don't have anything to apologise for, Ri," Dmitri muttered, not even flinching when the nickname left his mouth, because at this point, he couldn't care less. "You're tired, that's not on you."

Tariq just shrugged, but Dmitri could tell that he was still bothered by it. The clench of his jaw, the tenseness of his shoulders, the moderately sad look in his eyes that Dmitri wanted to wipe away, because if anyone deserved happiness, it was Tariq.

"Hey," he murmured as he made his way upstairs to Tariq's room. "What's wrong?"

Crashing down into Tariq's bed was almost second nature at this point, Dmitri taking his side of the bed while Tariq sat on his own side, a position that the both of them were all too familiar with after days of spending time together.

"I mean—" Tariq started, huffing. "It sucks for you, right? You want to do things that require going outside, but most of the time, I'm tired, either because of work or because of my own body, or both. And because of me, we can't do anything outside. Like, it's only logical for you to be pissed about it, considering—"

"Woah, woah," Dmitri breathed out, an incredulous laugh leaving his mouth. "Pissed? Why the fuck would I be pissed?"

The confusion was evident on Tariq's face when his head cocked to the right, eyebrows pinching together as he said, "Why wouldn't you be? I mean, Quentin always got mad when I had to cancel on plans because of my health."

Quentin. If Dmitri ever met him, he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold himself back from committing a murder.

"You know that I cancel a fuck ton of plans too, right?" Dmitri asked, more of a rhetorical question than anything. "I cancel plans so often because of my own mental health, you've seen it. If someone can't handle that, then... Fuck them," he decided, and the smile that cracked on Tariq's face was worth it.

Letting out a laugh, Tariq nodded. "I know. Yeah. I mean, a little bit of the guilt is always going to be there, I think, but..." he trailed off, pursing his lips. "Yeah."

"Hey," Dmitri muttered again, nudging him in his side. "I promise you, I don't mind if we stay home every time we hang out. I promise."

Finally, Tariq's shoulders relaxed. "Yeah," he said, giving Dmitri the Genuine Tariq Smile, sending a whe shiver down his spine. "Still, I want to do something outside with you. So if you give me like, five days, I can do something with you. Outside," he offered, voice not sad anymore, just tired.

"Okay, okay. Fine. But don't force yourself," Dmitri reminded pulling the collar of his t-shirt away from his neck, the June heat paired with Tariq's body heat too much for him to handle.

Wait.

"Dude."

Tariq huffed. "Dude," he mocked, playfully rolling his eyes, smile still on his lips. "Yeah?"

"It's pride month."

In an instant, Tariq's eyes widened, quickly travelling up to the clock beside his tabel as he gasped and said, "Wait, it's the first of June?"

Holy shit. Almost four months since he met Tariq for the first time in five years.

It was honestly frightening to think about the fact that Dmitri had managed to fall in the way that he did in four months. It had gone by in a blink.

"The month where all big corporations that exploit their workers use our identities to look quirky and bait people into shopping at their stores!"

Laughing, Tariq sighed, taking Dmitri's hands in his, and— Oh my god, my hands are in his— playing with them.

"Pride month is always such a weird time," he began with another small laugh. "I mean, we all remember the time when I snuck out of my house to go to the fucking Pride Parade and shit. And I think we all remember my panic attack on the way back home because I thought my mom and dad would see me. Fucking wild, because after I came out to them, they came up with this thing where they call me on the first of June, every single year. It's cute, they do this—"

Before he could go on, he was interrupted by the shrill ringing of his phone, the default ringtone since he always said that he couldn't be bothered to change it.

"Speak of the— okay, never mind, they aren't the devil." Shooting Dmitri a small, toothy grin, Tariq picked up the phone, the first words that he said being, "Hi, Ma."

Seeing Tariq talk to his parents never failed to make Dmitri emotional.

The almost nostalgic smile that always graced Tariq's lips when he spoke to them, the love that shone through his words, the laughs that he let out at their jokes that weren't even all that funny, solely because he knew that they were trying to make him laugh— everything about it was so pure and so patent, that all Dmitri could do was watch him.

"Thank you, Ma," Tariq said into the phone, his eyes shining with pure joy. "Yes, Baba, thank you, too."

Dmitri couldn't even begin to comprehend how liberating this must have been for him. After years of his parents not knowing that he was most likely going to spend the rest of his life with a man, they knew now.

Granted, it had been a few years since they knew, but it was the first time Dmitri was seeing Tariq be so open about it to them. And it was so fucking thrilling to see it happen right before his eyes.

As Tariq continued to talk, in Urdu this time, — he always tried to make it easier for his parents since that was their first language— Dmitri just went on his phone, switching from looking at his phone to looking at Tariq from time to time.

Then, all of a sudden, Tariq switched back to English by saying, "Yeah, I'll give the phone to him."

Eyes shining brighter than his smile, he handed the phone to Dmitri, whispering, "My parents wanna talk to you."

Oh my god. "Tariq, the last time I spoke to your parents, I cried because of how nice they are," Dmitri hissed back, staring at the phone in his hands and then back at Tariq.

He wanted to talk to Tariq's parents, there was no denying that. But what he didn't want to do was cry today, when he had spent his entire birthday crying, for good and for bad reasons.

Still, he just sighed and pressed the phone to his ear, mumbling out a soft, "Hey, Mrs. Riaz."

The smile that Dmitri was a hundred percent sure was on her face was heard through her words that said, "Dmitri! How are you?"

Earlier, his answer had been Better than before.

Now, it was, "I'm— I'm doing good. Really good," and holy shit, did it feel good to say that out loud and mean it. "How are you?"

Now, it was Tariq's dad's turn to speak, his booming voice echoing through the phone as he yelled, "Enough about us!" God, he really fucking loved them. "Happy pride month, Dmitri!"

Tariq's parents were so fucking adorable, it was unreal. And before, whenever he used to talk to them, along with all the positive emotions, he always felt a sense of longing for his own parents.

But he didn't need that. He didn't need them when he had people who genuinely loved him. Blood family wasn't always the family that someone needed, and that was okay.

Now, he just felt contentment, and to him, that was one of the best feelings in the world.

"Thank you," he laughed out, watching Tariq watching him. "I'm sorry about the last time we met, I wasn't really— I wasn't in my best space. I promise, when we meet again, I'll be—"

Of course, he was cut off by an exasperated huff from Tariq's mom, as she said, "Dmitri." She always pronounced his name correctly, despite her accent. "Your best space and your worst space are all a part of you. And that is alright with us," she chastised, and Dmitri just about cried.

Fuck, I love them. "Yeah," was the only thing he could get out, handing the phone back to Tariq, his words getting stuck halfway in his throat, refusing to come out. "You talk to them," he mumbled to Tariq, blinking back tears. Of joy, for once.

Or maybe it wasn't for once. He seemed to be crying tears of joy a lot more, lately. And he wasn't mad about it.

"Ma, what did you say to him to make him cry?" Tariq chided jokingly, one of his hands moving to land on Dmitri's knee, squeezing it gently, comfortingly. "Okay, okay, I'll talk to you later. Wait, let me put you on speaker, Baba—"

"Bye, Dmitri!" Tariq's parents yelled at the same time. "We'll see you soon, okay?"

Laughing through the single tear that was threatening to escape his eyes, Dmitri nodded. "Yeah. I love you."

Then, Tariq cut the call, because his parents had never really learnt that not ending the call meant that people could still hear them. Eyes crinkling in the corners, he glanced at Dmitri and said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to spring them onto you like that, they've just really wanted to talk to you for a while now."

Dmitri shrugged, laying flat on Tariq's bed and smiling. "It's fine. I love your parents, they're great. I literally haven't spoken to Zoya in ages, but she's great too. Your whole family— they're great."

"I mean..." Tariq started, placing his phone on the table beside him. He has gotten better at that— leaving his phone aside while he was talking to people. Giving them their full attention. "They're practically your—"

"Don't say that they're my family too, I'll cry," Dmitri warned, heat warming up his already warmed up heart, because as much as he liked to brush it off, he had always wanted Tariq's parents as parental figures.

Especially when he was younger, but now, too. Reconnecting with them and talking to them did nothing but bring those feelings up again.

And to hear Tariq say that they were practically his family too was something that he had wanted to hear since he was sixteen years old.

"Fine, fine," Tariq relented as he rolled off the bed, taking the bowl of his fucking vegetable salad that he had placed on his table to cool and making his way back into bed. "You hungry?"

Dmitri frowned, eyes going up to check the clock in his room, only to realise that he hadn't eaten lunch yet. "Mhm. You have food?"

Tariq hummed, and before Dmitri could even say anything, he was shoving a forkful of salad into his mouth, effectively preventing him from saying anything else. Jesus.

"What happened to not wanting to share forks with other people?" Dmitri questioned through a full mouth. "And— oh wait, you have another fork with you. Weirdo behaviour."

Snorting, Tariq reached into the bowl, forking some more food into his mouth as he said, "Did I tell you that I like your new glasses?" He reached over, cupping Dmitri's face in one of his hands and examining it. "Looks very regal. You look like— like a sexy college professor," he decided.

"A sexy college professor?" Dmitri repeated, shaking his head at Tariq, because what the fuck? "I literally look the same as I always did."

"And what's your point?"

A small laugh left Dmitri's mouth as he pulled his laptop out of his bag, giving Tariq a pointed look and saying, "Anyway. I wore my glasses because I have to finish up this article that I've been writing. Is that okay?"

Tariq smiled. "You know that I love watching you work." Oh my god. "Now get to work. Maybe after you're done working, you can put those glasses to use and read me something."

Oh. "You want me to read you something?"

That was something that they always used to do together, take turns reading chapters of books aloud, and finish them together. A good practice in theory, but bad for both their throats.

"Mhm!"

But of course, since Dmitri was fucking whipped, and his 'crush' on Tariq was way, way more than a crush, and the way he felt about Tariq right at that moment felt strangely familiar, but more, he didn't give a fuck about a simple sore throat.

So, all he said was, "First work, then reading," and turned his attention to the laptop he had pulled out, placing it in front of himself as he tried to calm his racing heart and his racing thoughts.

He wasn't sure what scared him more— the fact that he was slowly falling in love with Tariq, or the fact that he had already fallen in love with him and they weren't even together. Yet?

It was probably the second one.

Having a crush on someone who didn't like you back was okay. Being in love with them? Not so much.

"Oy, stop zoning out, you need to read to me! I love your reading voice, and I can only listen to it if you do your work. Chop, chop, time's a-wasting!"

Yeah. It was definitely the second one.

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+2538

AN: 🤸🏽‍♀️✨🤸🏽‍♀️✨🤸🏽‍♀️✨🤸🏽‍♀️

that's all.

how has everyone's day been? lmk if u want, bc i always come back to the comment sections and read about everyone's day😋👯 thank u for reading!!🥰