The Two of Us

Chapter 20 - Whatever It Takes

Go pray, he'd say with a small shake of his head. Praying will make it easier.

Khalid didn't think to ask what it was. Instead, he groaned and got up and walked into the bathroom to make wudu. But before he reached for the taps, he looked up and met the eyes of his reflection. He faltered.

How broken he looked. And over a girl.

No, it wasn't just a girl. It was everything. It was Zayn's last breath. It was the spiral after the high wore off. It was Hiba's flirtatious laughter and enticing scent. It was the burning sensation of nails digging into his back. It was ecstasy and agony and desire and grief. It was everything he'd ever done because everything he'd ever done was for the world.

He felt it; the crack in his soul. And since no one was around, he let it break. He'd only ever kept it together for them. Everything he'd ever done was for them. He stared at his reflection and imagined what Zayn would say if he could see his darting eyes and hear his ragged breathing.

What happened to you? What happened to your smile? What happened to your life?

Khalid wasn't sure what that meant. What had happened to him? Had he been happy before? Would he be happy again? What even is happiness? It was a terrible question, one he never gave much thought to. He'd become so used to this darkness. He wanted to change that. He wanted to be happy again.

* * *

He stepped out of the bathroom, shaking the water out his hair. Walking gently over the creaking floorboards so as not to disturb his parents, he found a prayer mat and spread it out before him. He stared down at it and willed himself to focus. This time, he would actually pray.

And so that was how, an hour later, he found himself sobbing into cupped hands. There was a strange silence within him, a throbbing warmth in the middle of his chest. He gasped for air, and the warmth turned into a coolness, as if there were cold hands wiping away the hurt in his soul. He sat there for awhile, enjoying the blissful feeling and thinking to himself that this was what Zayn was talking about. His skin tingled and the hair on his arms stood up as if someone was observing him.

But Zayn wasn't here. Zayn hadn't made him pray. He'd decided to pray himself. It was like what Sabrina had told him earlier that day....no one could help him until he turned to Allah. Only God could help him.

"I'm sorry, you know." He addressed his empty room, his voice sounding strangely emotionless against the silence. As if he'd cried all of it out and now there was just a numbness. He didn't even know who he was apologizing to. Allah? Zayn? Sabrina? Maybe all three of them.

"I just feel like, sometimes, I'm not good enough." He went on, to no one in particular. "Like, I'm not worth it. How better life would be if I wasn't...me. But I am me and maybe I don't know what to do about it but one day, I hope I will."

He sighed as if he was expecting an answer. He got up, folding his prayer mat and burrowed himself into his bed. He didn't know what he expected by praying -- maybe a direct message from Allah, saying his sins had been forgiven and a little gold star for trying. Maybe the next day he'd wake up and Sabrina would call and say she wanted to marry him again. Maybe tomorrow morning he'd wake up and find out he'd been dreaming this whole time and Zayn was still alive.

His thoughts were interrupted by the ring of his phone and he jerked up thinking it was Sabrina even though she probably didn't have his number. He dismissed the thought and reached for his phone, but froze when he saw who was calling.

Reed.

He immediately considered ignoring him. But, something compelled him to answer. And before he knew it, he had his phone pressed against his ear.