twelve - hope

the art of hope

- - -

After the night of Kareem's nightmare, something between us shifted. We were closer, almost, but also more mindful. We now knew sides to one another that we never intended too, and it makes things evermore so exciting.

But, despite this, I felt more at ease around Kareem than I had been around another person outside of my tight-knit group of friends in years. It was scary, almost, how Kareem relaxed me while still making me anxious at the same time. We'd started spending more time together, having nights at each other's places just watching movies, eating something new every night and comparing music.

After one particular movie night, where Kareem had insisted that I watched all of the Harry Potter films with him, I'd fallen asleep on his shoulder during the third or fourth, not entranced by the world of wizards and witches and wands carriers alike. He didn't bother to wake me and instead I woke to his head resting on mine, Kaz's soft snores soothing me as one of the films continued to play.

Jem had finally expressed their reluctant acceptance of our dating, given that I'd been a lot happier. Jem had been with me my entire life. They knew everything about me, including how I was with Emery. They'd been there through it all, from me publicly coming out to me being absolutely shattered from my breakup.

This is one thing that's entirely new to me, however. I never spent nights with Emery without some form of kissing or entertainment, as he called it. Even if I weren't explicitly involved in what he'd do, he still wanted me there. When we moved to the stage where I'd get involved, I complied. I wanted to make Emery happy, despite my indifference.

I'd been seeing Kareem for a while at this point, and he hadn't expressed any interest in progressing our relationship past kissing. I was waiting for that question, waiting for an invite to stay over to extend to sex, but so far it hadn't happened. Kareem seemed perfectly content with quick, dizzying kisses and movie nights cuddled up together.

I couldn't help but be petrified that everything was going to go up in flames. Emery seemed perfectly content until I told him officially that I didn't want to have sex, that I was asexual. Then there were callous sneers and harsh remarks being made towards me in the school hallway. Maybe I was naive to think we would be forever but I loved him. I adored every ounce of his being with every cell in my body and the fact that he didn't want to be with me anymore because of something that I couldn't control, because of something as arbitrary as sex, was soul breaking.

As much as I want to believe Kareem wouldn't react like that, I thought the same about Emery. I trusted him with the deepest parts of myself and he threw me to the wolves.

Despite the fact my relationship with Emery ended over five years ago, I could still hear his voice in my head taunting me. A part of me knew they never really left but being with Kareem, exposing myself to that potential heartbreak again, was igniting something harmful within me. I was scared of allowing our relationship to grow without knowing his intentions. We hadn't officially put a label on it yet, and I don't think I could solidify the bond like that before I was entirely honest.

Kareem had an entire life that I didn't know about. He grew up in foster care, he enlisted in the army and spent years of his life dedicated to his position. He'd had an entire existence that I couldn't relate to, that I didn't know a thing about.

Despite my fears, despite my anxieties, I wanted to know everything about him. I wanted to know his biggest fears, his happiest memories, those regrets that keep him up at night. I wanted to know everything that made him him, that made him different from everyone else. The good and the bad.

"Saint."

He loved the Harry Potter movies, and agreed with Jem that DC was better than Marvel. He liked sunflowers, and cookie dough ice cream.

"Saint!"

"Hm?"

"Why are you being so quiet? I don't like it, make it stop." Kareem said as I focused entirely on him, his tone light and amused as he changed the screen to put some random sitcom on.

"I was wondering," I started off, biting my lip. Kareem glanced at me. "Why did you enlist?"

He looked down at our entwined hands, before directing his gaze towards the television. His grip tightened on my hand unconsciously, and judging by the look in his eye, I really didn't think he meant to do it. I studied the sharpness of his jaw, how his eyes were almost empty with the question. The tattoos behind his ears that entwined with his neck almost become more noticeable in the dim light.

His expression made me regret the question. But just as I was about to take it back, tell him to forget it, he spoke.

"I always thought about what sort of people I was related to, you know? What was my Mom and Dad like? My grandparents? Cousins? Siblings? I always wondered about the littlest things. Like  do they prefer Cola or Water? Do they eat meat? Were they religious? What were their jobs? All I know is that my biological parents were Pakistani and Iranian."  He admitted almost emotionlessly. His expression gave nothing away. "I think I always craved that closure, bonds with people that weren't easily broken. And, as weird as it sounds, that's why I enlisted. The army always seemed like a family. You find your brothers, you fight with them, you have each other's back. I nearly changed my mind because of Kezziah. But I said I'll do one tour. For me. For that closure."

"But you didn't?" I said slowly, despite already knowing the answer.

"The first tour was for me. The second was for them. The people that I met, that I wanted to continue fighting with. And so was the third and fourth."

"Did you get your closure?"

The silence that followed my question was deafening.

"Not exactly." He answered eventually when I began questioning whether I said the wrong thing. "I found what I was looking for, sure. I found closure regarding the whole family thing, but not for the people still fighting out there. I've not found closure knowing that people are still fighting, people are still dying, while I'm stuck at home because of a stupid leg that doesn't even bother me. I didn't find closure burying the family I made out there, knowing that I'm here and they're not."

"I'm sorry, I...I didn't mean to upset you. I was just wondering and you said that I could ask questions and I'm sor-"

"Breathe, Saint."

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I nodded. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising." He said softly, snapping out of his trance as he started tracing circles onto my hand. "You haven't done anything wrong."

I nodded again but he didn't see.

"I had my squad and there were eight of us - three women and five men. We spent a lot of time together so we became quite close." He explained, "I met my two closest friends on my fourth tour in Iraq. It was chaos pretty much everyday. Always someone getting shot or an IED going off at another base. I met Harry Zeppelin and Amani Lennon on the tour and they were a part of my squad. We all got called by our last names so it was just Zepp and Lennon pretty much the entire time - I didn't even know Lennon was called Amani until she died."

Not expecting the last part of his sentence, my eyes widened. My stomach dropped at his voice break, the agony in his eyes igniting a great level of pain in mine.

"It was just a normal day. Well, as normal as it was. We'd gotten up, got everything set up that was needed to. I always felt like I could feel when something bad was about to happen but I didn't that day, everything was fine. We were ambushed just after sunset. One minute everything was quiet and then-" He cut himself off, blinking back the tears building in his eyes. "I lost three of my squad, Lennon included."

"Kaz..." I said softly, rubbing my palm across his arm. He turned to me, forcing a small, sad smile onto his face.

"She was so loud." He mused, "I hated her at first. She was so young and so full of life. It was her first tour, you know? I remember that feeling of adrenaline at actually being away from the States and doing things that you'd only seen movies about. She never really realized how horrific it could be. Zepp used to joke with her about it but she was just a positive person, always so in love with life and she couldn't wait to go home and see her Mom." He cut off, shaking his head as his voice cracked again. "She never got to say bye. She had a whole family waiting and she never went home."

Once the first tear fell, the rest followed in a continuous stream down his face. I couldn't imagine the pain he must be feeling at losing someone so close to him, having to witness such horrors.

"We were supposed to come home together. We were going to meet Zepp's daughter and Lenn's Mom, I wanted them to meet Kezz." Kareem took a shaky breath, "Zepp and I got shot during the ambush and I haven't seen him since. We've spoken over Facebook and stuff but it's not the same. I should've done more, I should've known."

I shook my head before he even finished talking. I used two fingers to lift his chin up, making sure our eyes met before I started talking. "Kareem, it was not your fault. None of it. You didn't do anything wrong."

"But I-"

"Kaz, you did your job." I stressed, "You did everything you could. I know that, and do you want to know why?"

He nodded his head, eyes desperate.

"Because you loved them," The words were soft, quiet, but he nearly reared back at the weight of them. "Because you loved them and you'd do anything for the people you love. They became your family and you did everything you could have possibly done to protect them, to protect yourself. What happened to all of you wasn't your fault - It isn't your fault." I repeated, "Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still fuck up. You can do everything you're supposed to do and things will still go wrong. That's nobody's fault, babe."

"But I-"

I cut him off with a quick peck, cradling his face in my hands.

"I know you're going to blame yourself, I know you feel guilty." Swiping the tears away with my thumbs, I leant our foreheads together. "So I'm going to be here to tell you that it's not your fault, and I'll say it as much as you need me to until you start to believe it."

He let out a quiet sigh, closing his eyes as the tears didn't halt. "How did I get so lucky with you?"

My lips tugged up, a large smile plastered onto my face despite the circumstances. "I ask myself the same question everyday."

"It still hurts." He mumbled the admission but I still caught it.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, letting him fall into my hold as I held him tightly. "I've got you."

I told myself at that moment that I'd hold him whenever things got too much. I'd hold him until his demons faded out, and found their way back home.

"They knew about me too," He said quietly, "I never really told anyone that I was Pan before, never felt I was safe enough too. I told them both and they were fine."

My heart warmed, completely understanding and being able to empathize with how important that was. "I'm glad you had that. It's the way it's supposed to be."

"What about you?" He asked, "Was there a big coming out?"

I shrugged, letting the corners of my lips tug up slightly. "Not really. I just came home with a boyfriend one day."

Kareem eyed me carefully, perhaps sensing something under the surface. His grip on my hand tightened. "And they were just...fine with it?"

"They didn't even acknowledge him, but I knew they'd do the same if it was a girl." I explained simply, "Look, I adore my parents but they never cared about us that much. That's why Sacha and I are so close, because even though they were there, they weren't."

"That must've been hard."

"Not really," Shrugging my shoulders, I thought back to my childhood. I never really looked back at my parents' avoidance with any malice, but I never knew any different. "Maybe it's because it was just how it was for me, you know? But it doesn't bother me. I've always had Sacha and Jem, and then I had Hendrix and Ali. The fact my parents didn't care much didn't really bother me."

"What were your boyfriends like then?" He questioned lightly, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Boyfriend; singular." I corrected, to which he didn't react. It didn't seem to bother him that I'd only ever had one boyfriend before. "He was the Middle Linebacker on our Football Team and he was in the grade above me. I started dating him Freshman year."

"A footballer? Really?" Kareem asked with wide eyes. Considering how much I hate football, and how much he did too,  I completely understood where his confusion stemmed from.

"Yep. He ended up going to UCF, whether the football thing stuck though is something I don't know."

"How come you broke up?" He continued before I even got the chance to answer. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to, sorry if it's a bit personal."

"It's fine," I chuckled at his rushed words, "We wanted different things, in the end, and I found out that he wasn't as nice as I thought he was."

Kareem eyed me knowingly, "Bad breakup?"

"That's one way to describe it," I forced a smile. It didn't overly bother me anymore, in all honesty. It just annoyed me that I wasted so many years with him. "Let's just say Jem wouldn't be good if they ever saw him again."

"They don't really like me, do they?" Kareem said lightly, with a small smile that looked more forced than I think he intended.

My heart ached at the question, wanting nothing more than to reassure him that Jem liked him, but I didn't want to stretch the truth. "Jem just worries, you know?" I said softly, "They're protective, and they saw me after the breakup with Emery and I know it was hard for them too. They just don't want me to get hurt again, it's nothing personal. They shouldn't take it as far as they have, it's not fair on you."

"I won't do that to you, S." He said it so gently, so much like a promise, that I wanted nothing more than to believe him.

Instead, I pulled the corners of my lips up. You don't know everything about me, I wanted to mutter, you might change your mind.

But instead, I shrugged off the sudden buzz of anxiety in my stomach and smiled "I know."

Selfishly, I wanted to stay in the midst of this blissful fantasy. I wanted the buzz of electricity through my system when our skin touched, I wanted the warm kisses as the sun rose. Even if the currant came and dragged me back under tomorrow, I'd be content because at least I got to experience this.

Some time later, we were climbing into bed. Sacha had found refuge at Hendrix's for the night, having challenged her to another video game contest. I didn't pretend to know what they were talking about but apparently the new update exceeded the need to sleep.

Kareem lay down next to me, making me turn onto my side to look at him. My pillow smells like him, I realized, smells like vanilla and the strawberry scented body wash that he uses. It smells like warmth, smells like home.

"Tell me about your tattoos."

Kareem's eyes fluttered open, gaze moving down to his open arms. Ink spread across his entire body but some tattoos were more prominent than others.

"How come?"

"I like tattoos," I stated stupidly. Considering I had quite a few of them, it'd be expected that I liked them. "Do they have a story? A meaning?"

"I don't know. I got some of them because they looked cool, not always meaningful." He explained bashfully. He lifted his right arm and pointed to a tree on his underarm. "This was my first."

My fingertips traced the small design, having never noticed it before due to the intricate way it blended into the tattoos surrounding it. "What type of tree is it?"

"A cassia tree. That's what Google said Kezziah's name meant, anyway." He smiled, "I really wanted my first to be sentimental. Got it done the moment I turned eighteen."

"I like it," I commented, "I like your sunflower. What are they for?"

"Happiness and long life," Kareem snorted, "I always forget I have that."

"They're my favorite flowers," I told him happily, almost comforted by the conscience.

"I'll keep that in mind." He grinned cheekily. "My favorite is this one." He gestured towards two small birds on the top of his arm, nearing his shoulder. All of his tattoos were done with black or white ink, but the shading made the birds stand out well amongst the others.

I thumbed over it carefully, the ink had barely faded. "What type of birds are they?"

"Believe it or not, they're called lovebirds." He snorted, making me giggle. His eyes met mine, his gaze softening. "They mate for life."

My mouth opened, "Oh."

"I always liked the idea of it. Meeting someone and just falling relentlessly for them. Family dinners, and teaching the kids to be polite. I want everything I never got."

"Your own little fairytale," I added lightly.

Kareem nodded, "I want it to be different for them, you know?"

As much as I hated it, I did.

I nodded towards his arm, "Go on."

Kareem obliged without protest, talking me through his Pink Floyd dedication, symbols for his Army family, his favorite TV shows, a scribbled homage of 'We Will Find A Brighter Day'. Lyrics that reminded him of growing up, symbols of strength and courage, so many links to his sister. I'd never heard Kareem talk so passionately before. A part of me knew why he felt the need to get all of these things permanently marked on his skin, that fear of losing what meant the world to him. Tattoos may fade away, but they never truly disappear.

I liked his angel wings, and how pretty the birds looked surrounded by his family's tributes. My mind kept flickering back to the fact they mate for life, and how I liked the way it sounded. How it sounded right.

My lips met his without resistance, kissing down his neck and across his tattoos. My eyes stayed open, appreciating the work of art that made him feel safe. I hoped desperately that he felt some sense of security with me.

Please don't leave.

I continued down his arm, eyes running over the small and delicate inscriptions. I kissed the tattoo on his wrist that I'd read over time and time again. The one that made sense when combined with the one much higher above it.

A flicker of hope.

A/N:

thank you for reading!