"Hi! Sorry to bother you; I know you probably get asked this a lot, but do you ever struggle with your faith because of your sexuality? - Anon."
Malik Ishtar is a Muslim journalism student who works for a freelance newspaper, and he lives in San Fra...
CW: Hints towards Malik's father, familial victim blaming/gaslighting.
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The next morning, Mehi did her best to be quiet. She crept out of the bedroom at ten to six, prayer mat under her arm. She tripped over a pair of shoes, but caught herself and yawned as she traipsed towards the kitchen. Summer was a bitch for the fajr.
She ran a hand through her hair, and it stuck up as though she had stuck her finger in an electrical socket. She hated when it did that.
She turned on the coffee pot as she rolled out her prayer mat and took a breath. Her eyes fell closed and she murmured verses from the Qur'an under her breath. "By the dawn and ten nights and the even and the odd-"
It was short – she never had the will to do a very long fajr. Not when her coffee was waiting. Once she had finished the two ra'kah, she rolled up her prayer mat and pulled open the cupboard, promptly smacking her forehead against the door.
She cursed and took down a mug, rubbing her head. Hopefully it wouldn't bruise.
"You okay?"
She glanced up at the doorway and yanked a tea towel over her head as Malik walked into the kitchen. "Yeah, sorry."
"Oh, sorry, I thought you had your shayla." Malik quickly looked away from her.
Mehi shook her head. "It's fine – not your fault." She had half forgotten that he was there. "I'm just- I'll just go get it. There's coffee if you drink it."
"Thanks." He kept his head down until Mehi left the kitchen. She ducked into the bathroom and pulled off the towel. She glanced at her chin. Good. The electrolysis seemed to be working.
May as well actually shower while she was in the bathroom- nah, her coffee would get cold. She looped her shayla around her neck, crossed it, and pulled it over her hair.
When she got back to the kitchen, Malik was pouring coffee into a mug for her. "I wasn't sure what you took in it-"
"Black is perfect." She took the cup and drained half of it, ignoring the burn in her throat.
Malik raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his own coffee before grimacing at the heat. "Sorry about earlier."
"You're fine," Mehi assured him. "I should have known you'd be up."
Malik glanced down at his cup. One or two coffee grounds floated in the mixture. "I, uh... I wasn't. I only woke up when I heard you hit your head."
Mehi blinked a few times. "You don't do the fajr?"
"I only did Friday prayer because Isis made me." Malik shrugged.
Mehi nodded and took a smaller mouthful of coffee. "Do you still believe in Allah?"
