Arabian Nights Ch. 02

I'm getting myself hard imagining how kinky she'd be, but when I get back to the apartment, my fantasies take a backseat. The crowded parking lot is what catches my attention first. Someone parked in my spot, and I have to snag a space all the way at the end. Already frustrated, I hop out of my car and make my way closer to the building, half-wanting to report whoever took my parking space. I get distracted, though. Slowly, noise becomes more apparent: loud music and loud voices. It's all pretty muffled, but I know it'll be incredibly irritating when I get to bed. I hope whoever's throwing this party doesn't drag it on too long. I've had a long shift, and all I want to do right now is watch some porn, jack off, and then sleep for ten hours.

But surprise! The party is in *my* apartment. The door is wide open, and a few small groups of people are out in the hallway chatting and sipping out of solo cups. They all look at me curiously when I walk by, but I don't recognize any of them. What the fuck is going on? Zane said nothing about a party. If he had, I would have shut that down immediately. He knows how I feel about having too many people in our living space. In fact, even *he* doesn't like a lot of people in our apartment, so what the hell is going on?

It's even worse when I step inside. The air is heavy and wet, almost. No one's doing anything crazy, but there are far too many people inside, sitting on counters and shelves and already leaving messes scattered around the apartment. Zane. Where the fuck is Zane? Suddenly I hear loud cheering coming from the sitting area, and when I look over, I see Zane laughing as he scoops money from the center of the coffee table into his arms. Looks like a bunch of people are playing poker.

I can barely hear myself think over the music, but I'm angry enough to confront him right now. I probably look stupid in my scrubs, but I don't care right now. He's in trouble. "Zane," I say, and he doesn't seem to hear me until I push my way in between a couple of people to get to him. I put a hand on his shoulder and spin him around. "Zane!"

He looks at me and, surprisingly, his smile doesn't disappear. "Khalid!" he says, putting a strong arm around me and pulling me hard into his body. I grunt a bit as he hugs me from the side and then kisses my forehead. "I thought you'd never show up."

I push out of his grip, still irritated. "The fuck is going on?"

"We're having a party," he says. "Surprise!"

He looks... off somehow. There's something odd in the way he smiles. Maybe it's his eyes. His eyes are usually half-lidded at best, and now they're fully open. "You should have fucking told me," I tell him.

"Oops," he says, and I blink. Oops? When the hell has he ever said 'oops'? "Well, I'm telling you now. C'mon, grab a drink and join me. I'm kicking ass."

"I want everyone out."

As soon as I say that, people in the vicinity start to boo me, which only infuriates me more. It doesn't help that Zane chuckles at them. "C'mon, lighten up," he says.

Suddenly something clicks. "Are you high right now?" I whisper.

He smirks a little, hesitating before saying "No."

"Yes you are."

He bites his lip before sighing and shrugging. "So I did a little coke, what's the big-"

"Coke?!" I'm so confused. It's like he's randomly gone off the deep end. Zane doesn't like parties unless they're small, intimate, and quiet, and he has never done a single drug in his life. The most we ever did was sniff a dime bag during a sleepover when we were kids, and we hated it. How many times since then has he told me he thinks "that shit is stupid"? Now he's doing coke in our apartment?

"What?" he says stupidly, as if it's no big deal.

I grab his arm and tug him away from the table. He tries to fight me off but I'm borderline livid at this point, and I manage to pull him into the kitchen. I have to shoo out a couple stragglers until we're alone, and when I turn to confront him, I'm practically pinning him against the fridge. "Are you fucking insane?"

He looks almost scared - probably because I rarely get mad. "Khalid-"

"What the *fuck* is going on, dude?"

"It's just a little party-"

"Like it's just a little coke?" I mock, slapping his chest. He winces as if it hurt. "The hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing," he says.

"Bullshit," I claim. "This isn't you."

He pauses for a long time, looking around the kitchen with just his eyes before saying "I told my father."

"You- What?" Told Seth what? That he's gay? At dinner?

"Yeah," he says simply, as if reading my mind.

I squint slightly as I try to think. "So... You're celebrating or something?" I say bitterly.

"No," he says. "It went horribly and he doesn't want anything to do with me."

He says it with a smile, but that's only because he's fucked up right now. I soften up almost immediately. So that's what this is about. He's derailing because his secret's out and Seth didn't respond well. This isn't the time to say "I told you so," but I have to say something to steer him in the right direction. "Zane..." I sigh. What could I say that would get through to him? All I can think of is apologizing. "I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah, well..." And he leaves it at that.

I sigh again. I want to help somehow, but the music is starting to give me a headache. "Look... You need to get these people out of here."

"No!" he pleads. "I need the distraction."

"You need to sober up," I say. "And I need some peace and fucking quiet."

"But-"

"I've had a long shift, Zane. I don't wanna argue with you."

"But can't you stay at your father's or something?"

I almost laugh. "And leave you alone right now? No." I run my fingers through my hair just as the song shifts, and everyone cheers. I close my eyes. This isn't happening. Not tonight. I head right into the living room, and when I find the power source for the speakers, I pull it directly out of the outlet. The music dies instantly and almost everyone says "Aww!" when their favorite Top 40 is cut incredibly short.

When I turn around, Zane is behind me, looking sullen. "I don't feel so good," he says.

He does look a little normal again, especially with his eyes. "What did you take?"

He shrugs. "Coke. A tablet of something. Some shots."

I almost fail to resist rolling my eyes. "Why don't you lie down?" I ask him gently, and without missing a beat, Zane goes right to the floor, lying down on his back. "Not on the- Okay," I say, breathing in and out slowly. Floor it is. Guess it's my job to kick everyone out now, so I make my rounds. "Party's over!" I shout. "Everyone out." A lot of people give me grief, not wanting to leave, and I have to practically usher people out of the living room. There's a couple in the bathroom hooking up that give me pissy looks as they leave, but I don't care. Once I make sure no one's in the bedroom or creeping in the closets, I lock up and exhale deeply.

Sweet silence. But when I look around, I wince. There are cups and napkins and half-opened chip bags everywhere. Crumbs litter the floor, someone left their socks, and nearly all the couch cushions are on the floor. But my eyes home in on Zane. He's just lying on his back as if asleep, his hands resting on his stomach. I hope he's not terribly fucked up. Not to be selfish, but babysitting isn't how I wanted to spend my night. Still, I have to be here for him. Even though I don't know the full story, obviously it's not good.

That reminds me: I *can* get the full story. I pull my phone from my pocket and ironically enough, I see two missed calls from Baba. Just the person I wanted to talk to. I quickly call him back, hoping he's still awake.

He picks up after the second ring. "Ali, my sweet boy."

"Hi, Baba," I say, smiling slightly.

"Have you gone home yet?" he asks me. "Have you seen Zane?"

"Um. Yeah," I say, wondering how much I should tell him. "He's not looking great."

I hear Baba sigh on the other line. "Did he tell you anything?"

"Just that he told Seth and that it 'went horribly'," I say. "Don't know anything more than that."

"Yes, it... did not go well."

Baba essentially gives me the play-by-play. He's detail-oriented, and even goes into the specifics of what Rashida had cooked and which dishes she had used. I have to tell him to get to the point to keep him focused.

It seems that Seth made another homophobic comment. The four of us always tell Seth he shouldn't say things like that, and he usually shrugs it off. This time, though, when Baba said something, Seth fired back with "This is my house, Gamal. I can say what I please." Dinner went on without trouble for several minutes... until Zane spoke up. He came out, right then and there. He blurted it out, really. One second, Seth was going on about the political climate of the Middle East, and the next, there is silence after Zane interrupted him with that bombshell. "What did you say?" Seth asked, and Zane repeated himself: "I'm gay." Seth questioned Zane repeatedly as if to make sure he heard his son correctly before there was another long, drawn-out silence. Then, Seth told Zane to get out. Zane refused. Seth said it again more firmly this time, and again, Zane refused, continuing to finish his meal. That's when the fight broke out. Seth snapped and threw his plate at Zane, screaming for him to get out of his house before going around the table. Rashida tried to stop him, but he shrugged her off aggressively, and Baba was too far away to even get to Zane in time. Seth had Zane's shirt in a furious fist and went in for a punch with his free hand. What was surprising to Baba was that Zane fought back. Rashida was screaming as they brawled, though apparently it didn't last too long. I don't know why Seth thought he could take Zane. Seth's oversized figure pales compared to Zane's physique. Maybe he assumed his son would "respect" him and not dare to hit him back, but clearly he was in for a rude awakening. After Baba broke up the fight, Zane immediately took his leave.

"Is Seth okay?" I ask. Zane doesn't look like he even got into a fight.

"Broken nose," Baba says, "and a bruised ego." He sighs heavily. "I told Zane not to tell him."

"I did too. But he's been wanting to tell him for a while now, for whatever reason."

"I understand," he says.

"But I don't," I add. "He's kept it a secret for so long. Why is it such a problem now?"

I can almost hear the patient smile in Baba's voice as he speaks. "It's not easy to keep a secret like this, Khalid. I wouldn't expect you to understand. Just know that Zane wants to live truthfully, and we have to support that."

I sigh. There it is again, him thinking I can't understand what's going on. But maybe he's right. Maybe you need experience to really get it. "Do you think you'll ever tell him, Baba? About you?"

There's a long pause on the other line before he says "I don't know, son. I don't know."

Baba and I only talk for a few minutes more. He doesn't know what's going to happen after tonight, but his advice is to let Seth cool off for a while, especially since it'll give us time to come up with a game plan.

"Take care of him, okay?" Baba requests. "And make sure he knows that he is still loved."

I smile, taking that to mean Rashida is still supportive. "I will, Baba." We tell each other that we love each other before hanging up, and I let out a long exhale. Damn, that's a lot. As I look at Zane, I wonder what's going to happen now. The truth is out. How Seth responds to this information will change our family dynamics completely. Even if she supports her son, will Rashida stand by her husband? Will Baba? I wonder.

I head over to Zane. Honestly, to someone peering in through the window, it'd look like he's dead, but I see his chest rising as he breathes, so I feel a small sense of relief. I choose to lie next to him, resting on the hardwood floor beside him as I think about tonight. I can picture the scene unfolding pretty clearly, but I wonder what would have happened if I had been there. Like Zane wanted me to be.

Zane stirs after a while, and when I hear groaning, I look towards him. He yawns a bit before opening his eyes, looking confused, and then glancing at me. "Um... Why am I on the floor?" he asks.

I smile. "You short-circuited," I tell him.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"I didn't want you to feel lonely."

He smiles a little before looking back up at the ceiling and then frowning. He lifts his hands up and places them against his face. "I'm so fucked up, Khalid."

"I know."

He puts his hands at his sides, sighing. "I was so stupid. And mad." He groans slightly. "I don't know what to do now."

Since it's so close, I nudge my hand over just an inch or two and pat his hand with my fingers. "We'll figure it out. I promise."

I'm about to pull my hand away when he surprises me by taking hold of it. It's not in a romantic way, but in the way a child clutches onto someone he trusts in a moment of weakness. So I let him. "You've always been there," he says. "Through the good and the bad."

"Yeah," I say, unsure what he's getting at or what he wants to hear from me. Maybe he assumed "we" meant him and myself when really I was referring to Baba and Rashida as well.

There's a pause before he keeps talking, still holding firmly onto my hand. "I'm sorry," he says. "I shouldn't have invited all those people."

"It's okay."

"And I shouldn't have taken those drugs."

I give his hand a squeeze. "As long as you're okay."

He looks at me. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" I laugh. Seems like the alcohol has settled in, because now he sounds more drunk than anything else. "No, Zane, I don't hate you."

"Promise?"

I smile. "I promise, you big lug." Then I force myself to sit up before patting his chest. "C'mon. Let's get you to bed, okay? Can you stand up?"

"I don't know," he says warily.

"Try."

It takes a minute for me to help him to his feet. He says he feels a little dizzy, so I support him as we walk and I tell him I'll get him some water after I get him to bed. We take it slow. I don't know what's in his system (and by the sound of it, neither does he), so I suggest what usually works best: water and rest.

When we get to his room, we head straight for the bed. He basically falls onto it with a grunt but sighs as if settling comfortably. Next step, clothes. I tug on the hem of his shirt and tell him to sit up, and he resists for a moment before I tell him how hot and sweaty he'll get if we don't get these off. He agrees, helping me help him by finally sitting up and letting me pull his t-shirt off. He falls back with a sigh again before I move to his jeans. "Work with me, big guy," I tell him, undoing the button and the fly before trying to tug them off his hips. He lifts his ass up a bit and helps me push them down, and I finish tugging them completely off his legs. Now he's just in his tight underwear. I find my eyes fixated on his bulge for a second too long. Focus, Khalid. Focus. You were doing so well. Focus.

After tossing his pants to the floor, I consider tucking him in somewhat, but it's a warm night, and it might be best if he just cools off. "Be right back," I tell him.

Before I can turn, though, his hand snatches out and grabs my wrist. "No. Stay with me."

I laugh. "I'm just getting you some water-"

"Stay," he says. Then he pats his bed. "Get in here."

I look at him with confusion. "So you don't want water?"

"Just come here, Scrub."

I sigh for a moment before doing as he asks. I kick off my shoes and then climb over him to get on his opposite side, resting close enough for our arms to be touching. I'm expecting Zane to say something, so I keep quiet, just resting with him. Maybe he just wants the company.

Turns out I'm somewhat on the nose. "I don't wanna be alone, Khalid."

I know what he really means, though. "Is that what this was all about?" I ask, referring to the last-minute party. He just shrugs in response. Then, all of a sudden, he bursts into tears. My eyes go wide before the instinct to comfort him kicks in. "Hey hey hey." I shift onto my side to cuddle up against him, and immediately he leans into me. He wraps an arm around me and grips the back of my shirt in a tight fist. I hold him tight, just rubbing his back as an attempt to soothe him. This is a shock to me. I've never seen Zane cry, not like this. He'll tear up now and again, particularly at sad scenes in movies, but he's never sobbed like this before. Not even as a kid. I was always the pussy.

It takes him several minutes to calm down. Soon his cries quiet down and are reduced to sniffles, and then finally, he stops shaking. He just breathes slowly for a few moments before I hear him mutter one word: "Fuck."

I smile a bit, pulling back slightly. "You okay?" I ask, trying to get a look at him.

"No," he says, but he at least laughs. "I'm so embarrassed." He finally looks up at me. His eyes are a bit bloodshot, and his face is damp from his tears.

"Well yeah, you're a hot mess," I tease, and he smiles as I wipe some of his tears off with my thumb.

"Better?" he asks when I finish.

"A little." I smile at him before I realize how close we are. Our legs are nearly intertwined, our crotches are practically up against each other's, his arm is still draped over my side, and our faces are mere inches apart. Thank God I wear briefs. Otherwise, I'd probably be afraid of popping wood right about now. I gulp, hating myself. This isn't the time to be thinking about him sexually. Zane is going through probably the toughest time in his life emotionally and here I am getting nervous by how close we are.

And yet, something's drawing me in. Maybe it's the way he's looking at me. Staring at me. Does he know what I'm thinking? Can he hear my thoughts? Why is my heart pounding? That's all I can hear right now: the persistent thudding in my ears.

I do it. The impulse is so overpowering that I'm not quick enough to stop myself. My eyes flicker to his lips and then, all of a sudden, I'm leaning forward, bridging the gap, and pressing my lips against my best friend's. He doesn't move. Doesn't make a sound. I don't even know how long I kiss him for, but when I think "What the fuck am I doing?", I pull away. My face feels hot as Zane stares at me in surprise. "I... Um... Sorry..." I laugh nervously. What the fuck, Khalid? Why did you do that? Why can't you keep-?

But, unexpectedly, Zane leans forward, much more quickly than I did. I feel his hot breath on my mouth for a split second before I feel his lips again. And then, I kiss back. We clutch onto each other hard, him gripping the back of my scrubs and me digging my nails into his back. I'm not thinking about this rationally right now. I'm completely thinking with my body, and my hands, and my lips.

Is it me, or is Zane a really fucking good kisser? Maybe we just have a good balance. Right off the bat, we move smoothly against each other, constantly swapping dominance. He's the one who introduces a little tongue, and as soon as I feel that slick muscle against mine, my hips push forward. Now I'm getting hard, and by extent, I'm getting embarrassed. The tiny bit of rational thinking I have left tells me to pull my crotch away, so I start to - until Zane stops me. His hand slides right down to my ass and brings my groin right back up against his.

He's getting hard. I can feel it, that insistent stiffness between his legs, trapped in his underwear. God, that's so strange. Even just being in his arms is strange. I'm not used to kissing someone who's so built, who has muscles, who has a raging boner between their legs just like I do. I want to touch him, but I'm slightly nervous. I let my hand slide over his bare side and rest on his hip. My thumb teases close to his crotch, but I stop there, like I'm on the edge of a diving board anticipating the temperature of the pool. And it's the temperature that really draws me in. I can feel the heat coming from his crotch, and I want to feel him.