even if it hurts - cory & naveed

two

there's moments, sometimes, when time seems to freeze and naveed's sure nothing matters but them. and yeah, it's probably wishful thinking, because cory still behaves like a skittish colt around him despite everything, but naveed's hopeful. and, truth be told, so is cory.
-
it's times like these, though, that none of that matters. they're sat in the grass at the edge of the rec, not in the grim bit by the brook, but in the nice wooded bit near the top of the hill. the sun is setting, and although it's starting to get cold, the evening is reminiscent of the night of hayley's party.
riz has been ditching them more often recently in favour of staring at hayley across the booths' living room, so it's just the two of them, shivering in their thin hoodies, nursing bottles of dirt-cheap cider and laughing into the wind.
nav's telling some stupid story about a bloke at one of his shows, and as he reaches a particularly funny bit, he breaks off into desperate, breathless giggles, head thrown back, eyes scrunched up. cory feels something aching and fond throb in his chest.
nav wheezes out the punchline of whatever stupid little story he's drunkenly trying to tell, and then absolutely dissolves into bellowing laughter, the noise echoing around the rec.
it's not a particularly funny anecdote, but cory finds himself wheezing with laughter anyway. maybe in a desperate attempt to forget the way he wants to kiss nav's neck. he feels his throat constrict as he watches nav's mouth stretch around the neck of his bottle, slugging down the watery yellow fluid.
"am gonna be sick, if we carry on like this," nav slurs, and cory snorts.
"wouldn't be the first time, eh?"
"'m a fuckin' lightweight, aren't i?"
"well..."
there's something fond in naveed's eyes when he glances at cory. looking into his face is like staring into the sun; he has to squint, because even making direct eye contact with him for too long is too much.
in a sudden burst of drunken confidence, he pulls naveed into a sort of hug, pushing his face into his neck.
"you're me best mate, y'know."
naveed grins against his neck, and cory can feel his lips, his teeth, pressed against the skin, can't help himself from shuddering. nav pulls away.
"someone walk over your grave?"
"kind of."
naveed grins, and burps in his face.
"you are grim, nav," cory yells, and then he's shoving naveed onto the ground, tussling with him, laughing into his neck.
naveed ends up on top of him, pinning him to the ground by the shoulders.
"that all you've got, wilson?"
"not nearly," cory responds, his voice coming out gravelly from all the laughter and booze. he watches in slow motion as nav's rich brown eyes shoot darker at the sound, the pupils expanding slightly under the weight of it.
cory swallows, feels the atmosphere shift under him. considers his options. he can kiss nav, right now. just angle his head slightly, pulling their mouths together. slide his fingers into the soft tufts of dark hair at the back of nav's head. mould him into place with his hands and his mouth.
but he doesn't. coward, his brain helpfully supplies in response to the lack of action.
but god, does he want to kiss nav. sometimes he feels a physical pull in his jaw, as if some higher being is pulling them together. and yeah, okay, it's perhaps just him being both horny and tragically romantic, but he's thought about this so much that he's begun to detatch from the whole I'm Not Gay thing, and it's starting to feel like fate. he just needs to stop being so fucking scared.
naveed laughs, snapping him back into reality, and rolls off him, spreading himself out onto the grass beside them.
cory lies back, stares at the thin wisps of cloud making their way across the july evening sky, and he starts thinking about stuff. as one does, he supposes. most people do tend to think, sometimes.
but there's more to all this, this whole sixth form thing, cory reckons, than just the rugby and the booze and the seemingly endless stream of girls. because he's got his dad back, and his two best mates by his side, so why the fuck isn't he happy?
there's days like these on the green, when they're pretending like everything is easy and nothing matters but the slow skid of clouds across the cerulean sky, but he also goes to nav's house a lot,  too, sneaking bottles of tesco's own brand cider past nav's mum for them to share. it's not weird, because they don't let it be weird. but it still doesn't feel enough. cory curses himself.
but now cory's head is in naveed's lap and nav's hands are stroking through cory's hair and he wonders if this is what he's supposed to feel all the time. nav's grinning, that blindingly white cheek-to-cheek grin that makes cory's heart thud painfully in his chest. he notes everything down, these days; the way nav's hair is growing out a little; his fringe curling over his forehead and making him look all soft round the edges. and the smiling, obviously; the way his eyes shine, crinkling at the edges.
he finds it hard to breathe normally, when nav's around.
"cory."
he snaps out of his daydream. meets nav's eyes again.
"yeh?"
"summer formal's coming up."
"i know."
he knows, obviously. and he doesn't want to talk about it. that's all anyone can seem to bloody talk about, these days. Summer Formal this and Summer Formal that- if he has to hear about another girl's dress drama he's going to choke someone. it's worse than year 11 prom.
the worst part, though, is figuring out who he's going to take. of course, in an ideal world, he'd turn up outside nav's house on the night in a polished limo, wearing a posh tux and some new cologne, a bunch of flowers in one hand and nav's hand in the other, but it's not going to be like that.
god, he can picture it now; the dance floor, dark except for the blurred reflections of the disco ball's sparkle. some cheesy ed sheeran song streams through the speakers, and there they are in the centre of the dance floor, his head on nav's shoulder.
he can daydream about this for hours, but it's too far out of his reach. it's too late. he's too late.
you see, after jamiegate, nav crawled into bed with him, wearing his hoodie and a tired little smile. cory was warm with sleep, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. nav curled up with him, their legs tangling together under the thin duvet. he vaguely remembers holding nav's hand, and the feeling of something happening. but when he woke up, nav was gone, leaving his hoodie behind with a post-it telling cory he'd see him at school. that was it. and of course, he'd soon figured out why nav had dipped like that- nav wanted him to initiate whatever seemed to be progressing between them. nav wanted him to start it because nav wanted him to be sure.
and at that realisation, cory realised he's never cared about a person as much as he cares about naveed haider.
so here he is, lying in a field with his head in his best friend's lap, and he's not wholly sure where to go from here.
"am fuckin' trolleyed."
"really? i'd not noticed."
naveed glances at him, all doe eyes and perfect teeth. he swallows down the want in the back of his throat and lifts the bottle to his lips, taking another sip of the lukewarm, too-sweet liquid. naveed's blinking at him, bleary-eyed and loving, and cory wants and wants and wants.
"nav?"
nav turns, slowly.
"yeah?"
"can we go back to my house? or yours. whatever's better for you, i guess-"
"alright. gunna beat you at fifa."
the tone is playful.
"not fuckin' likely, mate. you're shit."
nav snorts and wacks him with the empty bottle, but doesn't start a tussle again. instead, he turns his head to cory, blinks owlishly at him, stands up and stretches. cory's mouth goes dry as nav's shirt rides up, revealing a strip of coffee-coloured skin and sharp hipbone.
god. he is so fucked.
-
summer approaches fast as the weeks slide by, sun-soaked and sluggish. mocks come and go. cory does decently. he passes, at least, but he could do better. could always do better.
nav does excellently, of course, and being the selfless dickhead that he is, he doesn't gloat, just grins, punches his shoulder, asks him if he wants to come over for tea. of course he does. any excuse to breathe the same air as nav for a little longer.
you're mine, cory thinks sometimes, and he feels ashamed for it, because it feels more like a wish than a promise. he wants more than anything to say it out loud, daring himself in english lessons and during their adventures to the green to murmur something along those lines into nav's ear, simply to see how he'll react. simply to see how far he can push it before nav snaps.
nav grins again, oblivious to what's rumbling on in cory's head, and wanders off to find riz.
cory sets his mouth and follows him towards the sixth form hub, absentmindedly scrunching up the sheet of mocks results in one fist.
riz is sat on one of the sofas inside, deep in conversation with missy booth.
"so, hayley's wearin' this absolutely mank frock, and i was hopin' you could persuade her not to? she looks bloody awful in it, i-"
"ladies," cory interrupts, sliding onto the back of the sofa and propping his feet up on the student coffee table. missy shoots him a filthy look, and riz rolls his eyes.
"are you goin' to the ball, cory?"
"i s'pose. if i can find anyone to go with."
"take razia," a voice comes from behind them, and they all look up to find nas, her arms laden with summer formal posters. "she hasn't stopped whining about it since they finished their exams."
"i'd rather take me own brother," cory sighs in response. "no offence, of course-"
"none taken."
"-but she's not exactly riveting company."
nav raises an eyebrow and falls into an elaborate routine- 'ooh, riveting, is it, mister english language major, look at you'-but cory isn't listening. nas starts asking him questions about jordan; how he's doing on his art foundation, does he call often, has he made any friends. cory resists the urge to follow in nav's vein and crack some joke about Mother Hen Paracha but he thinks better of it. she might be five-foot-four and lighter than a bag of feathers but he doesn't doubt nas can pack a mean punch. in all honesty, cory's a little bit scared of her.
jordan is doing okay, though. he calls often enough that cory isn't worried, but not so often that there's a concern he doesn't have friends. and when he does call, he sounds happy. truly, genuinely happy.
this might just be the right path for jordan after all.
-
the summer formal approaches a lot quicker than he expected it to; after the year 11 exams, the final weeks of the summer term had flown by relatively quickly, and cory found himself in an increasingly urgent rush to find a suit.
he's got one, now. a posh grey one, which his dad reckons he looks decent in.
he doesn't have anyone to go with, but he figures he'll just stick close with nav and riz, like he always does.
feeling a little nervous, arrives at the school hall entrance, which has been tastelessly decorated with pink and yellow balloons. outside is a table with a miserable year 10 prefect holding a sign-up sheet. he wonders if nav and the others are already there.
inside, the hall is dim, a disco ball casting blurry white blotches on the floor. the caretakers have messily strung fairy-lights along the curtain poles and along the top of the stage, and on the stage itself, a dj mans a set-up of huge dodgy looking speakers. they howl out the song that was playing when nav was getting pissed at hayley's 16th, and cory briefly wonders if this is an omen.
he spots missy across the hall, decked out in some glittery pink thing and clutching a plastic flute of bubbly. he grins.
"miss booth. you look divine."
"why thank you, sir wilson. you look dashing too, i assure you."
he and missy have developed that specific kind of we-almost-shagged friendship that seems to defy all bonds, and yet at the same time be as replaceable as any random acquaintance. it's teasing and lighthearted and one of the only genuine friendships he's ever had with an actual human girl.
across the hall, the doors open, and the world seems to halt on its axis as nasreen paracha walks in holding naveed's arm. the music slows, the birds begin to sing, and if cory really wants to push the point across, he'd say that even the students all stop talking at the sight of nav in a fucking tuxedo. god, he looks so lovely.
cory gulps his champagne for a bit of dutch courage and wanders over, smoothly picking up another two glasses from the table to give to their esteemed guests.
"nav," he says, pushing the champagne into nasreen's hands. he's so strung up at the way nav looks that he doesn't notice the look nas and missy share, their teasingly raised eyebrows. "you look... nice."
missy snorts unattractively. "nice? is that really the best you can come up with? nice?"
but cory isn't listening.
christ. it's going to be a difficult evening.
-
cory considers that he might be too drunk for this.
he can't smell anything but naveed's hair, which, by the way, is styled upwards in a sort of wave and somehow makes him look even prettier. well; pretty is an understatement. in truth, he looks drop-dead fucking gorgeous; the fabric of his tailored trousers clinging to his stupidly long legs and his arse (which cory is certainly NOT staring at) and the jacket making him look dashingly masculine in a way that shouldn't be this attractive.
he's laughing with nas about some razia-hayley dress drama, eyes scrunched up and head thrown back in that beautiful smile of his, showing off his long neck.
cory drunkenly resists the urge to do something entirely inappropriate like lick it.
the dj starts playing that one killers song and nas, missy and naveed are off, giggling, leaving cory on his own with nothing but his phone and a plastic flute of watered-down champagne. he swallows and awkwardly surveys the room, feeling very much like a clown in a graveyard or some other appropriate metaphor.
feeling the onset of a predictably miserable mood, he glances begrudgingly at riz and hayley (dressed in the slightly less ugly ballgown) leaning close together, whispering, giggling softly, and so casually intimate that a pang of desperate loneliness hits cory right between his ribs. the craving for that intimacy is... always there, always yearning for someone to hold. someone in particular.
he gulps down his champagne, mood now thunderous and inconsolable. he goes to the table in an attempt to sneak another one, but is intercepted by a smiling ms carter. she's dolled up to her eyeballs and noticeably tipsy- maybe cory'll flirt a bit, try to distract himself from how he wishes it were him dancing with nav.
"alright, miss?"
"oh, hello cory! you look nice!"
"as do you, miss. absolutely ravishing."
she snorts. "charming, as usual. where are your mates, cory?"
"oh... you know. just 'aving fun without me."
she smiles sympathetically, pats his arm. and then she sees mrs paracha across the hall and goes to talk to her.
he looks darkly across the hall to where naveed and missy are enthusiastically dancing to twist and shout, downs his champagne and walks over to them.
he feels horribly uncomfortable, like someone's doused him in cold water. or, a better example; like someone's taken out all his innards and put them back in wrong. he feels like a puppet, jangling miserably towards the source of his problems. always crawling back. like an addict. like his dad.
"naveed, can i 'ave a word?"
missy looks between them, and gives cory a slightly distasteful look.
he stalks outside, his veins thrumming with unreasonable anger, and... something else. something he doesn't recognise. something hot and acrid, burning like a lump of coal glowing in the chasm in the centre of his chest.
naveed follows him into the cool night, face flushed and glowing from dancing. he's grinning, out of breath. it only serves to piss cory off more.
"thanks for leaving me on me own, mate."
nav's eyebrows furrow. "what are you on about, cor?"
"you, off, dancin' with missy. but i suppose it don't matter, eh?"
"what are you even on about, man?"
"just feel a bit lied to, is all. thought you were gay 'n all."
"cory, what the fuck?" the smile has slipped off his face, replaced by a sort of confused disgust. "you're bein' a bit unreasonable, mate." and that, well, that just fucks cory right off.
"me?! i'm the unreasonable one?!"
"yeah, you are," nav snarls, suddenly looking as angry as cory feels, and god, cory realises with a shock of white-hot excitement that nav's getting mad now too. his eyes are flashing near-black in the dim light outside the hall. "you're bein' fuckin' ridiculous, to be completely honest. you fuck me off for that shannon bint after a night i thought actually meant somethin' to you, and now you have the bloody nerve to tell me i'm the one with the problem. you're actin' like a fuckin' child!"
black heat flushes through him, and cory feels a sort of growl erupt from somewhere in his chest. he launches forward, pushing naveed against the cool bricks of the wall of the hall.
"am i." he says, pushing the words out to sound more like a statement than a question, and he's glaring directly at nav, his heart thumping, desperation spilling out of his pores. it feels ugly. ugly and horribly addictive.
"get the fuck off me," nav tries to spit in response, scrabbling against cory's chest with shaky hands, but the words catch in his throat and all that comes out is a reedy little whimper.
cory swallows, blinding desire shooting through him, damn near making his knees give way. he feels the atmosphere jolt dramatically around them, and then for what seems like the millionth time, the world seems to zero in on him and nav, breathing hard in the half light.
cory leans forward on impulse, blood pounding in his ears. he knows nav'll melt into it like the lovelorn fool he is, becoming whatever cory wants under his hands.
but nav doesn't. instead, he's jolted back into cold reality as nav's hands plant themselves on his shoulders, shoving him away. for a heart-stopping moment, nav looks him dead in the eyes, and then-
"i said, get the fuck off me."
before cory can process what's just happened, the doors to the hall are already swinging shut, and cory's left alone in the dark, his heart in his mouth and his hands shaky with a frigid sweat.
he swallows down the lump in his throat and walks home, head spinning at a million miles a minute.
-
naveed decides very early on that he isn't going to do anything he'll regret. he heads back into the hall, his heart pounding with something akin to fear, but he feels strangely liberated, too. nas and missy are waiting for him outside the hall, and he grins widely at them, winding his arms around their waists and leading them back into the hall.
"everything okay?" nas asks, and he nods resolutely.
"yeah, 'course."
-
he gets home five minutes before curfew, bone tired and already undoing his tie before he's even reached the door.
his father is sat at the kitchen table with a mug of tea, and he looks up, smiles.
"good night, nav?"
"yeah, brilliant," nav responds, pouring himself a glass of water.
after a bit of polite chit-chat with his dad, and careful avoidance of any mention of cory, he heads to bed, attempting to push all thoughts of cory out of his head. in his heart of hearts, he knows he's done the right thing, but that doesn't stop the unease from crawling under his skin. he reasons with himself that cory is just using him, that he's the one in the right.
but nav's still got anxious butterflies fluttering in his abdomen when he falls into bed, because he knows cory isn't just using him. he knows there's more to it than that. cory's horribly confused.
but... that doesn't make it fair.
when he eventually succumbs to sleep, he dreams about the dance. cory, specifically, looking awfully handsome in his grey tailored suit. dreams about cory pressing him into that wall outside the hall and kissing him. it's wrong, all wrong.
and with that he jolts awake.
the first thing he becomes aware of is that the clock display reads 3:56, which means he's only been asleep for a couple of hours.
the second thing he's aware of is that there's someone outside his bedroom window, rapping gently on the glass with their knuckles.
christ, nav told his parents moving into a bungalow was a bad idea.
he swallows, hopes desperately and simultaneously that it is and isn't who he thinks it is. schrodinger's cory, he thinks with a detached sort of smile.
and alas, when he pulls back the curtain, stood below the window, is a nervous looking cory, backlit by a silver moon. he looks ethereal in this light, like his hair is threaded through with LED lights and his eyes are made of stars. fuck, naveed is so far gone.
"alright?" cory says, and nav stares. "come here often?"
"yeah, actually. nice little spot, isn't it. lovely weather."
cory laughs sadly. "let us in?"
so nav, being the stupid, stupid fool that he is, pushes the window open as wide as it'll go, and then cory's shimmying up the wall and clambering through.
he's still wearing the tux, but the jacket's gone and the sleeves of the shirt are rolled up. there's a couple of grass-stains on the knees of the trousers and naveed winces. he isn't sure the dry cleaners will be able to shift a stain like that.
and then cory is standing parallel to him, looking down at him with the sort of scared, beseeching, desperate puppy-eyes he remembers on himself, a long time ago.
"sorry i'm such a shit," cory mumbles, and nav feels something shift in his chest.
"you're not."
"i am," cory responds, breaking the eye contact and plonking himself down on nav's bed with a sigh. "am an utter prize arsehole and you know it."
"it's okay, cory."
"it's not, though. i keep fuckin' with your head."
nav sits down next to him, burrowing his cold feet into the duvet. it feels fragile, like he's going to shatter the silence in the room if he says anything of significance, but cory's staring at him with this sort of reserved awe, and nav feels, for once, like he's the one in control.
"it's okay."
cory looks at him, a desperate terror widening his eyes. if nav wasn't so caught in trying not to breathe too loudly, he'd find that rather funny- cocky, confident cory, with his broad shoulders and long legs and arrogant comebacks, is scared. how ridiculous.
"can i kiss you?"
cory's voice trembles, and nav feels every nerve ending in his body light up, the nerves pushing a lump into his throat.
"i might consider it."
cory looks so put-out at that that nav laughs gently and takes cory's face in his hands.
"come here, you stupid git."
cory shifts closer, and nav feels the mattress dip slightly under their shared weight. he can feel the warmth radiating off cory's body, though his face is cold and flushed in the orange glow of the streetlight outside.
their mouths slide together with almost-practised ease. this is fine, nav thinks. and yeah, okay, it's more than fine. it's electricity and fireworks and planets aligning and all that gooey bullshit, but it's plain, simple. it's just them. just how it should be. not terrified and forbidden and loaded with pent-up frustration like their first, and not urgent and hormonal and ultimately meaningless like their (many) second, but just... them. their hands and their mouths and their hearts threatening to beat right out of their chests.
he pulls away. cory's looking at him, mouth open, breathing hard in a way that nav thinks is rather dramatic.
cory dives in again, mouth opening against nav's. he makes a little pent-up sound in the back of his throat and slides his arms around nav's waist, pulling him in. nav pulls away again, grinning softly.
"my parents are next door," he whispers, and chuckles softly at the responding look of disappointment.
"and if you carry on like that we're both going to be seriously sleep-deprived."
"you're a pricktease."
nav snorts at the irony of it all. "pot? kettle?"
cory's lips twitch, a smile tugging at their corners. he pulls nav in for one last kiss, and then flops himself onto the mattress, tugging the duvet over himself.
"you're sleeping on the floor," he mumbles, the sound muffled under the weight of the covers, and nav shoves him.
"i bloody well am not!"
a sort of half-hearted tussle starts up, but nav drops it and slides into the bed next to cory, snuggling close to him.
"we're actually going to talk about this, tomorrow," nav murmurs.
cory mumbles a sleepy response, and nav grins into the darkness.
and this time, when he pushes himself back against cory's front, he doesn't feel like he's stepping on fragile glass.
this time, as cory's arm winds round his waist, pulling their bodies flush together, he wonders if this is the happy ending they deserve.
or, alternatively, the start of something wonderful.
they're definitely going to talk about it.