Barricades

by Dem Had

  “I’m leaving,” I said.

  “Oh? Where to?”

  “To my parents.”

  “Okay,” he said, opening the fridge, “when will you be back?”

  I paused for a moment, putting my thoughts in order. “I won’t.”

  “Hm?” He frowned, eating a piece of watermelon.

  I approached him and stopped a meter away from him. “I won’t be back.”

  He swallowed hard. “Why?” He walked closer. “What do you mean?” He studied my face as I stood in silence. “Are you breaking up with me? Why?” His confused face filled with pain. What could I say to make it easier? “What did I do wrong?”

  “You did nothing wrong.” I reached out to touch his face, but he slapped my hand away.

  “Then why?” Anger filled his eyes.

  “I have to.” I leaned in and kissed him hard. Inhaling deep, I tried to steal his essence and make it mine. I sighed. “I can’t stay here anymore. This”—I pointed at my jaw—“was just the beginning.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  I scoffed. “Where? Girne? You think it will be better there? Here or there, you and I together… it’s not just a homosexual relationship. This is on a whole new level.”

  “I already told you, I won’t accept society’s normality deciding my love life.”

  “Do you think I do? Orestis, they’ll kill us. Your dad is just one example of how we are seen in society’s eyes.”

  “We’ll figure it out, Emir.” A sob escaped him.

  “I can’t do this.” I brought my face close and kissed his forehead.

  “Why? Can’t you do it for us? I….”

  “Orestis!” I barked. “It’s for us that I’m leaving.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” he shot back at me.

  “It’s the world that doesn’t make any sense.’”

  “Don’t use my words against me,” he said. “Is something else going on?”

  I caught his hand and pressed his palm against my lips. My jaw hurt again, reminding me of the reasons I had to leave. I was one tear away from giving in. I opened the door.

  “Don’t leave. Emir, don’t step out of that door,” he warned. “I’m not going to follow you. Sit down and have a decent conversation with me.” He came and pushed the door closed.

  “I have nothing else to say. We’re over.” I opened the door and slammed it behind me.

  “This is not a solution, Emir!” he shouted. Orestis’s voice echoed in my ears as I walked down the stairs.

  Part of me wanted him to follow me. I kept walking and never looked back. This is the end, our end. I pulled over at the side of the road before reaching the highway. I took out my phone, connected to the internet, and had started blocking him from social media when it rang in my hands. I stared at his face on the screen. With my fingers shaking, I brought the phone close to my face, squeezed my eyes shut, and rejected the call. It rang again, torturing me, and I—the masochist that I was—lit a cigarette and listened to our song I had set as a ringtone for him. Three missed calls later, the filter was burning between my fingers. I threw the cigarette out the window along with the SIM card and got back on the road.

  My mind was blank as I drove and drove, speeding on the highway. Before I knew it, I was at the checkpoint. Police gave me a strange look and demanded to search the car. I stepped out and leaned on the door, waiting, until they let me pass. The air in the north was the same, but it smelled nothing like home. In fact, it felt so far from home, a hole took up residence in my chest. Hello, loneliness, my old friend.

  Orestis

  “HE LEFT,” I said to Alex’s face on the laptop. “He left and he’s not coming back.” The shock wouldn’t let me produce any tears. I sat down with my head in my hands, pulling my hair.

  “What happened?”

  “I told you, he left,” I said, leaning back.

  “Did you fight?”

  “He said we’d be killed.”

  “Oh….”

  “I thought he needed me as much as I needed him. I mean….”

  “Orestis, I’ll be there tomorrow night, okay?”

  I wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to, that I didn’t want to be a bother, but at that moment I couldn’t.

  “Thanks,” I whispered, lowering my head.

  “Dude, I’m done with my exams anyway. Nicolas can use some alone time to work on his project resubmission.”

  “That’s for sure.” Nicolas’s face appeared.

  Soon, we ended the video call and I tried to stand up, but in vain. I pressed my face on a pillow and let out a scream in frustration. My eyes stung, and I screamed over and over until tears found their way out. I breathed in and breathed out, in, out, until I started hyperventilating and sobs escaped my throat, zapping my strength. I banged my head on the pillow, pressed it hard on my chest, and cried myself to sleep.

  MY BODY was numb when the alarm went off, and my arm was heavy as I reached out for my phone. My eyes burned, making me see clearly that last night wasn’t a nightmare.

  I dragged my feet to the bathroom, took off my clothes, and got under the showerhead, then let the water drip down my skin. I stared down at my hands. I was running late for work. I had no time to be sad or angry or depressed. I had to keep my job if I wanted to avoid running back to my parents with my tail between my legs.

  The day kept flowing, despite my absent mind. I couldn’t think about anything. It had been like I was hibernating. When I returned home in the early afternoon, I closed the door and stood motionless, looking at the window across the room. I’m alone.

  I ended up on the couch, watching TV for the rest of the day. I had no way to contact him. He had blocked me on Facebook and his phone wasn’t working. I didn’t know where his parents’ house was, and even if I did, what good would it do? He had left, and it was clear that he didn’t want to be found. He had left me. For good. I wanted to be angry and curse him, but I didn’t have the strength. All I could do was berate myself about how emotionally dependent I was. I was withering. Whatever we’d had started to wither soon after it blossomed. My biggest regret was that our time was so short.

  A knock on the door jolted me. For a fraction of a second, the hope that it might be Emir, telling me it was all a nasty joke, caused my heartbeat to escalate, and I internally rehearsed my angry expression before forgiving him. But such hope was short-lived. It was Alex. He said that he had come directly from the airport by bus. When I saw him, my tears found their way out again, and I hugged him.

  “Come here,” he breathed, rubbing my back. “Everything will be fine.”

  I shook my head. “But when?”

  “Hey.” His bass voice gave me goose bumps. He wiped my eyes and glared at me. “I’m not going anywhere until you are back on your feet.”

  His authoritative words comforted me. With Alex here, I could feel my strength returning. He headed to the fridge as if it was his own and took out a beer.

  “I missed you.” I smiled as he opened the can.

  “Me too.” A wide grin cracked, and he patted my head.

  He let me talk and rant. All my anger found a way out. He only listened, sipping on his beer. I was out of energy and words when he put the cigarette in his mouth and shielded the tip with his palm to light it. He inhaled the smoke. I snatched it away and put it in my mouth.

  “Did you start again?” he asked.

  I exhaled. “Yeah, just now.”

  “Dude, remember how hard it was to stop,” he warned, lighting another cigarette.

  He stayed with me all night, even after I fell asleep. I was half-awake when I listened to his voice talking on the phone with Nicolas. To my surprise, they were arguing. I felt terrible for monopolizing our conversation before. He had come all the way here for me, and I’d never given him the chance to talk about himself.

  Thursday morning found me in my bed, even though I couldn’t remember moving from the couch. Alex must have carried me there. He was
sitting on the floor next to the window, typing on his laptop, when he saw me getting up before the alarm.

  “It’s still early,” he said.

  “Didn’t you sleep?” I muttered.

  “Not yet.”

  DAYS PASSED by and my chest gradually grew heavier. I walked back into the hell of depression. Alex’s presence only made the process slower. At times, I would listen to him talking about Nicolas and noticed their relationship was in a weird phase. His sudden flight to Cyprus wasn’t only because of me, which made me feel a little better. He was trying to keep some distance from Nicolas. Alex believed that living together and spending so much time in the same space had put out the flame. I couldn’t relate. The more I lived with Emir, the more our fire burned, and now that he was gone, I was cold inside. Was our connection real, or was it just my wishful thinking? I was still wondering what the fuck had been his problem. Couldn’t he just stay and find a solution with me?

  It’d been clear that Emir wasn’t exactly the monogamous, faithful guy. The occasional change of character, coming home late, and hour-long showers were signs I’d chosen to ignore. His eyes would be full of guilt, avoiding me. He’d started using condoms again, which made it even more obvious. It hurt, but I didn’t want to confront him about it. All I wanted was to get closer to him and make him stop. It didn’t last long, but the fear that he might start again remained.

  Why? Why? Why does it have to hurt so much? I’ve been chasing him from the beginning. I make a step forward and he makes a step backward. I can’t figure him out. It hurts. In the end, he made a quick excuse and flew from my life. Enough!

  On Saturday night, Alex suggested we go to the beach with a six-pack of beers. I was not in the mood. Neither was he, but we decided to go anyway, to shift our thoughts elsewhere.

  We drank a bit and sat on the sand. He stood up and started undressing.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Swimming.” He laughed.

  I didn’t have the strength to refuse, so I undressed, too, leaving only my briefs on, and followed him, splashing and swimming until we ended up floating on our backs, gazing up at the sky. The small waves moved my body as I tried to keep my ears out of the water. We talked like we used to, and I realized that we hadn’t spent time together like that since high school. It was after midnight when we decided to leave.

  “It’s weird. I know it’s impossible, but I keep thinking I’ll go home and he’ll be there,” I said, glancing at the moon one last time. “It’s like Emir never left.”

  Alex put his arm around my neck. “I’ll be there.” His eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

  We stopped by the convenience store for more beers and headed home. The air was warm and humid, but my skin was cold due to our great idea to get in the sea, despite not having any towels with us.

  Alex took off his wet clothes and dried himself while I got into the shower. When my temperature was back to normal, I got out and found my best friend on the balcony with a beach towel around his hips. He leaned on the rail, puffing his cigarette.

  “How much have you drunk?” I asked as I counted only half of the beers we’d bought on our way home. Knowing he’d already had five cans at the beach, I got worried. I stood next to him, wondering what he was looking at.

  Tilting his head to the side, he looked down at me and grinned. “I’m fine.”

  “You smell like a pub.” I chuckled. “Go take a shower.”

  “Will you scrub my back?” He laughed.

  “You’re a big boy,” I teased, and patted his shoulder.

  What came afterward was an old dream, reawakening and manifesting. Something that for the past two years I hadn’t dared to wish for. Cold, firm, and soft lips touched mine. Despite my shock, I moved back and covered his mouth with my fingers, giggling.

  “Go take a shower, drunkard.”

  He looked away with a faint smile and disappeared into the bathroom. I licked my lips and savored his taste, tinted with alcohol. It’s way too late for that.

  Emir

  IT HAD been twelve days since I’d seen his face, twelve days since I had heard his voice cracking as he called out my name. Twelve days since I turned my back on him for the second time, wrecking everything we had been building for months. The pain was unbearable and only getting worse. Twelve days, holing up in my room, moving from bed to couch, listening to music and staring at the ceiling. I felt my cells collapsing one by one. I had to do something. I signed in to Facebook and contacted Ikrom, my childhood friend, telling him that I was back in Girne. He was the kind of person I could go months or even years without talking to but, when we met, it was like no time had passed.

  I invited him over and he came the same day. We talked about how our lives had been in the year we’d been apart. He was a person I could be honest with, so I talked about Orestis. He seemed shocked when I told him how I had been living in the south, dating a Greek Cypriot, and gotten myself attacked, but he tried to comfort me. His advice, though, was that of someone who had never fallen in love, yet he was right about one thing: I had to go on with my life. He took a photo of us and tagged me in a post, writing about our reunion and his brother coming back home.

  My days were boring and painful. The fact that I left made me relive the regrets of that September over and over.

  My mom was worried, but my father calmed her down, saying I needed time to find my way. They didn’t know what was happening, and even though I was living in their house, I avoided contact with them.

  Ikrom was the closest human contact I had. He dragged me out of the house and took me to cafeterias and beaches and on drives. He gave off the impression that he was on a mission to get on my nerves, but I knew better. He was trying to cheer me up.

  On a Saturday night, I took off the cast permanently, got dressed, and got into his car. I had no idea what he had in mind.

  “A friend of mine is coming with us,” he said, pulling into an unknown neighborhood.

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know him. He is a good guy and he is gay too. Maybe….”

  Here we go. A straight guy who drives me to a gay club to show how cool and open-minded he is and thinks that he can fix me up with a friend just because he is gay. I shook my head.

  “I’m not interested.” I chuckled.

  “Meet him first,” he said as the door opened. “Emir, this is Galim—Galim, this is Emir.”

  I hadn’t been in a gay club since I started dating Orestis. I didn’t protest even though I wanted to hop out of the car and walk home. I prepared myself to endure this night until it was over and go back into my room afterward. I knew Ikrom had the best of intentions in mind. I couldn’t be mad at him. What did I have to lose? I could at least try to enjoy it.

  Alex

  HE OPENS his mouth, accepting my kiss. Retracting for a second, I stand taller and grab his face, shoving my tongue in his mouth. His hands clutch my head and he reciprocates as we stumble inside. Our towels fall on the floor and I push him on the bed. His cock hardens as soon as I start rubbing my groin on his. The spicy smell of his soap, his lean torso underneath me, and his arms reaching out for me, invited me, melted me. The guy I had in my fantasies but never touched has turned so much sexier since the last time I saw him. Having him half-naked around me, I can’t keep myself sane anymore.

  He pushes me. I roll on my back and he straddles me with his back facing me. My erection throbs as his hips lower onto my dick and his insides wrap around me. He leans back, resting on my chest. The mirror reveals every detail of my rod disappearing inside of him. Why is there a mirror there?

  “You’re so big, so good,” he moans in my ear. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

  I take his cock into my palm, stroking it. He is soft and warm inside. Breathing in, I enjoy the view of his face in ecstasy. Breathing out, I cut through my own pleasure, and right when I am about to climax, my moans jolt me up.

  My heart pounded like crazy as my gasps echoed in the
silence of the night. Cold sweat ran down my face. I turned to my left to find Orestis sleeping in his boxers with his back facing me. I checked inside my pants and I ran to the shower. I’d had the sexiest wet dream of my life, and it featured my best friend. What the fuck? Admittedly, he’d gotten sexier lately, and the sad smile on his face whenever he tried to hide his depression dared me to lust over him. Maybe… I wanted to make him mine again. He had been mine until Emir appeared. Orestis would never have rejected my kiss, but he did. I was losing power over him.

  What am I doing? How could I think like that? I slapped my cheek. Come to your senses, Alex. I washed myself and went back to bed. Orestis had rolled over, facing me. I caressed his hair and kissed his forehead. This dude is an idiot. He was trying to manage his loss instead of trying to fix it. He always sold himself cheap, not noticing his own worth. I knew I had a part in this. Before I closed my eyes again, I decided I would find Emir and fix this mess.

  When I woke up on Sunday around noon, I contacted Nicolas, asking for help. I needed a plan and I had no idea where to start. Emir had blocked all of us, and we had no way to contact him. Nicolas suggested an old account he’d stopped using soon after he came out. He reactivated it, changed his name, and started stalking Emir. By night, news arrived that somebody had tagged him in a photo, in Kyrenia. So, for starters, we knew that he indeed went back to his hometown.

  Orestis seemed lost and confused in melancholy, but no way would I tell him what I was up to. I was trying to keep him company as much as possible to divert his thoughts. Sometimes he would weep, hiding his face behind a book, or stare into the void.

  On Wednesday my patience was wearing thin, with no progress from Nicolas’s stalking. I got into my car and went to Kyrenia, then aimlessly drove around from beach to beach, café to café. I was exhausted but waited for the time to pass until the gay club was open. I went in, sat at the bar, and ordered ale.