littlerthings
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Ryan looks at the blown up photograph of Naim on a stand, a funeral book beneath it, the pages signed by people who didn’t know him.
Ryan wants to take it and burn it. He wants to burn the whole fucking town down.
The photograph is beautiful. In the soft, gentle way Naim was. He’s smiling in it. Eyes twinkling, teeth showing. Ryan’s fingers ache with the urge to reach out, to pull him through space and time, back into his arms.
He’d never let him go.
Bookmarked by littlerthings
24 Jun 2026
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It doesn't help that Ryan's fingers are suddenly moving, not holding him anymore, but just…hovering. Pads tickling over knuckles, down to his palm, and then up again. When their sticky palms slot together, it's Ryan's hand that comes up larger.
Or in which Naim yearns, and yearns, and yearns.
Bookmarked by littlerthings
24 Jun 2026
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Sometimes Naim dreams about yellow fields.
Yellow like the scleras of Ryan’s eyes when he’s going down on his knees, fingers curling into fists, mouth opening slow, slow, to house a scream he can’t let out because he’s choking, he’s on his side, on his back in the grass, on his back under Naim’s body, under Naim’s hands, a not-Naim, a really-Naim-this-time, the dust of an abandoned building around them, on a dark street, in a backyard, under the moving shadows of the laundry on a line, choking himself sick, yellow like all of that, the sickness, pus pressing his skin taut and up.
Bookmarked by littlerthings
24 Jun 2026
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“I don’t want it to look like anyone else,” Chris had said, not quite looking Felix in the eye like he was afraid to. “I want it to look like you.”
Felix hadn’t understood it then, seventeen and too scared to think straight.
He does now. Because he can live with this, if it comes in the shape of his Chris.
They've gotten this far. Even if he starts seeing that thing again, Felix won't break. Chris always makes sure of it; stitches him back together at the seams when they start to fray.
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Bookmarked by littlerthings
24 Jun 2026
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In reality, it could have been any number of people. His parents, or the neighbors, or a little girl walking her dog on by. Anyone would stop to watch two boys throwing stones at one another.
Ryan kills Naim that night, too