When Will I Hold You? (MxM)

Six

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Also if you're ARMY, I'm thinking of starting to write au's on my twitter. dm for my @ (I follow back and I'm not just saying that)

A few weeks passed Gage and I as they normally would've. Well, somewhat normal. Nothing felt completely right. We let the question of marriage lie silently between us in bed, we let it cook and eat with us, we let it talk for us. We were both waiting for the next long weekend so we could drive down to my parents place and to tell them about us. Until then, it was as if our relationship was put on hold.

We both didn't know exactly how to go about this friendship thing. We'd never been purely platonic. Even when we first met, there was an instant attraction and yes we were friendly... but the intentions were not to be friends.

Not talking to him but lying in bed with him and us taking care of each other was- weird. It was not one of my many worries. The closer we got to the long weekend the more my mother started calling. It was odd even for an overbearing parent.

However, nothing was nearly as odd as this particular video call two weeks before the long weekend in which I heard something. Something that I've only ever heard when my sister was in the house and alone with my dad. I heard my dad's laughter.

When I asked my mother if my sister was home she told me my sister had not been home since the previous school holiday which was three months ago.

Who was making my father laugh if not the apple of his eye, his reason for living, his darling daughter?

Maybe he's looking over my report cards from high school and laughing because he wasted his time on his disappointing first born child who he crossed an ocean for...

My mother then informed me my brother's new friend, Mohammad Masood, was at the house. I rolled my eyes because I already know exactly who he is without actually knowing him. He's probably Indian, from Chatworth in Durban, he's Muslim. His parents call him Mohammad Masood, his friends who he smokes behind the house with call him Mo. He has a fade and a short beard... that looks like a reverse fade. He drives a Volkswagen Polo GTI and his number plate is probably "Mo" followed by his birthday. His parents probably bought it for him for his 18th birthday when he matriculated. He lives with his parents who are looking for him to marry a good, pious and obedient Muslim woman. (Preferably named Aysha... Aysha doesn't not work but she has a degree. She has to stay at home with their children.)

I know this because every Indian Mohammad Whatever in South Africa that I've met in my short but experienced filled life has been exactly the same.

I started hearing the name Mohammad Masood a lot more often after that. Every time his name  name was uttered it was followed by a bright smile from my mother. Though my mother was a loving person, this smile was different from the others.

Two days before the long weekend I told my mother that Gage and I would be coming to spend some time with them and catch them up on some things. My mother in return said she had exciting news. Navitha, my sister later told me that she would be joining us over the long weekend and I assumed that was the exciting news.

But it wasn't that exciting for me... being in a house with my perfect siblings and their screaming kids wasn't appealing. Not when their perfect friends/spouses would also be there.

Not when I'm about to become even more imperfect in the eyes of my parents.

lol... fun fact about me none of you ever wondered about me. I'm extremely mixed race, so much so that my parents and (some) grandparents are mixed race. But the most prominent cultures in my life are South Indian, Malay, Cape Malay and Cape coloured culture.