Lovebirds

thirty-one

She told Kimi to wait a little longer because Allah knew how much Kyle needed her in that moment, how much he needed his friends.

From where she stood, she watched a grown man fall apart, watched him tear himself to shreds as the warring paths of 'being a man' and being human drew chaos around him like a torch blazing in the midst of bloodshed and battle. His scars were not from a battlefield of failure.

They were the imprints of his insecurities, of his self-doubt. He manifested his wounds by following the rigid plans of an industry that didn't care if his smiles were real or fake, an industry that objectified his body at every chance it got. They didn't care, and he forced himself to fit the mold of perfection, knowing that he chased after an impossible feat, yet still running after it in false hope.

A sob escaped from Kyle as he fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. "I-I'm sorry," he whispered in a heave. "I-I'm so sorry."

Rayan was at his side instantly. "What the fuck is going on, man?" he asked in pure panic. "Do we need to call the doctor? Hold on, we can get help."

Wesley rushed to his phone, but Naira held out a hand, stopping them as she solemnly stared down at the scene before her, chest heavy with the knowledge she knew as Kyle's pain followed her. She felt her chest ache, and she wished more than anything to take his pain away, to tell him that it wasn't his fault for his eating disorder.

But this wasn't her story to tell.

It was his.

"Don't," she choked, warning Wesley. "Let him speak."

A confused Wesley stared deep at her glistening eyes, hand gripping his phone tightly. Lowering his head, he turned back to his friend, falling at his knees as well and arms wrapping around a shaking Kyle. He held him as if he were holding a scared child.

Kyle's sobs ripped out of him, tears streaking his cheeks. He clutched onto Wesley's arm as if holding for his life, for his survival.

"What's going on?" Rayan persisted, fear engulfing him. "Kyle, this isn't a funny prank. What the hell is happening?"

He opened his mouth to speak, yet his cries took control, his body shuddering to the pulsing terror of judgment. She knew the boys would understand Kyle, but his demons refused to settle and continued to grow, digging their claws against an already scarred young man.

Kyle had the perfect male body, ripped and sculpted to perfection, yet he was covered in scars. He was trembling with his distorted sense of perfection, and it was all coming out.

Naira inhaled a deep breath, feeling a sudden cold wrap around her like silk. Elegant and distant, the warmth slipping off as she approached the subject with caution. "It's okay, Kyle," she said in a soft voice, one of motherly concern. "It's all going to be okay."

Hearing her voice, he seemed to quiet down, easing his shaking breaths to match her calmness. HIs brown eyes sought hers desperately, the shell of a child looking to be comforted, to be told that nothing in the world would ever hurt him again. His gaze pleaded with her to save him and she saw them glisten with his unmasked fear.

Naira continued in a steady voice as her heart hammered against her chest. "Please," she begged him. "Don't blame yourself for me overworking. It's all going to be okay. If you believe nothing else, please believe this."

He nodded slowly, taking deep breaths.

"There you go," she coached gently. "I'm right here. Rayan and Wesley are here too, and we won't leave. We won't judge."

Her words, as simple as they were, held weight to them. They were understanding and kind, the type of warmth Kyle needed in his life. She watched his body relax, slowly but surely, and then he straightened, gently pulling away from Wesley as he looked at his friends with an unwavering gaze. He was ready.