sobbing crying flailing screaming throwing up melting dying

of course this is thinly-veiled code for don’t tell anyone about us, and naim agrees. he knows what happens to boys like them in towns like this—knows how important it is that this remain a secret. and it’s terrifying and thrilling and theirs, this secret, the one they get to share in this place that no one else knows.

when naim sees ryan and hunter together, he doesn’t run immediately to the pastor. he goes home, and he sits at the dinner table picking at his meal with something too big to name twisting inside him. he watches arlene—talking on the phone and pacing their tiny, barren house. he thinks about putting the words together in a way that she might listen. he thinks about the face she would make. he thinks about his dad’s gentle, placating hands and the way arlene used to melt into them. he mourns that piece of her, and says nothing at all.

he tells the pastor, and a boy is killed for it. and when ryan finds out what he did and says it’ll never be me, he sounds so hollow that naim knows there’s nothing to say that could reach him. he kills the thing with ryan’s face and joins the search party to look for him, because maybe if he saw ryan’s broken body in the sun-dried grass then he could know for sure that he’ll never see him again.

naim watches smoke drift from the burnt-out husk of their place, their secret. he watches people in hi-vis excavate it like an old tomb. he watches arlene wrap her arms around herself in a protective shield against the cold. the words are pushing at his lips and all he has to do is say them.

i’ve been here before, he says. with ryan.

it’s the closest thing to a confession that he can manage. when he looks back on this moment years later, he thinks of it as a leap of faith more than a coming out. i was here with him, he’s trying to tell her. we were here, together, we were together, we were hidden—it was a secret we shared and agreed to keep, i’m telling you now because i must, because i’m ready, because i love you, because i need you.

i can’t help you, she says. she’s never been further away from him. they told me it would keep you safe, she says. it’s so cold and so loving that he’s frozen on the spot, halfway between flinching back and reaching for her. we need fear, naim. it’s how we survive.

ryan who holds naim close in bed in the morning and kisses him tenderly and there’s worlds of love and affection in the gentle brush of their mouths and his heart feels full to bursting with the terrifying, perfect knowledge that this boy could do anything to him and it wouldn’t change a thing about the way he feels and says “cunt your breath fucking stinks”.

ryan who looks at naim across the table when they’re out with friends for drinks and his expression is so unbearably soft and fond that naim can’t even meet his eyes and ryan who nudges naim’s foot under the table just to make sure they’re still touching, always touching, and ryan who laughs like a lovesick fool at every one of naim’s lame jokes and ryan who slings an arm around his shoulder when they’re walking home from the tram stop and says “you’re so fucking annoying when you’re drunk”.

It did make me think it feels like in the movie Naim is usually aware that it's the entity and not the real Ryan, while Ryan gets tricked by it way more. Do you think there's a reason why?

Also curious how you picture the first time Ryan ever sees the entity and how that went down??

Love your posts!! You have a way of making things even more painful than they were in the movie ahahah.

agreed, it looks like ryan is tricked by the entity far more than naim. obviously naim knows how the entity 'works' a lot sooner than ryan does so he's aware basically from the get-go that there is A Thing that looks like ryan but isn't ryan. ryan unfortunately doesn't have this privilege, he encounters the entity at least twice before he realises what's going on or starts to suspect that entity!naim is not real naim

from memory i'm pretty sure the only scene where ryan is 'tricked' onscreen is the bathroom scene at school. this scene in particular i think is really delish because if you all recall, it takes place directly after the bus scene. ryan shoots naim a flirty 'come hither' look before ducking into the bathroom. naim moves to follow, but becomes seemingly self-conscious after seeing how crowded the corridors are, and then turns to leave. imo it is established that the entity can appear to you while others are around, but only hurt you/interact with you if you're truly alone. there's a reading certainly that naim doesn't follow ryan into the bathroom because he think it's the entity and not real ryan, but i don't think this is the case at all. i think naim chooses not to follow because he's anxious about being caught, being seen. the moment where he decides not to enter the bathroom is directly preceded by this little glance-around after a girl walks behind him. to me it really reflects their first kiss, naim catching sight of his reflection and then flinching away.

this is interesting to me because i think naim is self-conscious of and frightened by his queer identity in a way that ryan simply isn't. ryan has been (clearly) getting with other boys for some time, he's a lot more certain in his identity. for naim, the entity coaxes him into a sense of safety, security, comfort—it says i see you, i see what you are, and then violates him. conversely, ryan's experience of the entity is much more about community and acceptance, it's naim asking him on a roller rink date!! we know from their conversation in the mill that ryan is really desperate for affirmation from naim, any kind of sign or hint that his queer feelings are reciprocated. this is what he's missing with hunter, a sense of commonality, togetherness, community.

its unyielding grip around naim’s neck, holding him down against concrete so mercilessly that he feels as if his skull is being ground to dust against it. it effortlessly holds aloft a weight ryan couldn’t manage, even straining with both hands. it’s deadened, emptied eyes watch impassively as naim struggles and claws and gasps for air. that impossible weight held high and waiting to crash down, poised to turn naim’s head into a pulpy red smear. naim’s strength is clearly no match for this creature and his fear is what fuels it. so he does the thing that now feels so unnatural his entire body screams in warning—he reaches up and cups it’s mimicry of ryan’s face with a tender, gentle hand.

it freezes. it looks down at him with an expression halfway between wonder and fear. naim takes the window of opportunity to prise the lighter from his pocket with a trembling hand, and strike back.

much like the scene at the screen door, this blink-and-you-miss-it moment delivers leviticus’ theme neatly and precisely. the entity loses its power in this moment because naim isn’t giving it what it wants. he doesn’t run so it can give chase, doesn’t struggle so that it can overpower—he stands staunch against his own fear and shows the thing affection, tenderness, love. it crumbles, and naim delivers his blow.

ryan is oblivious here, he’s taking naim completely at face value. nope, never been there before. and we can see the way a little of the tension leaves naim, a relaxing around the shoulders, because he’s hearing meaning ryan didn’t intend. you’re my first. there’s no one else. and ryan quickly follows it with don’t tell anyone, yeah? it’s to be their secret—the kiss and their new haunt, and of course the fact that ryan is gay. naim is more than happy to oblige, not only because he doesn’t want to be outed, but this is the first time since moving to this stupid town that he has something which isn’t just his own.

and ryan is ur classic aussie surf rock boy he’s seen spacey jane live more times than he can count he thinks the whole thing with sticky fingers and thelma plum was overblown he’s the first kid to correct you as to the correct spelling of skegss

it doesn’t come. days become weeks. at school, you were the shiny new toy long enough for the tiny year level of only twenty-six other kids to determine that you’re just as dull as everyone else in this town. you’re from a flyspeck nowhere just like here, but at least your nowhere had places you knew, faces you recognised, haunts you traced with bike tracks and footprints. your new pastor has a droning voice that is somehow impossible to let fade into background noise. your mum hangs desperately onto every word as if they’re spoken to her directly. you can’t remember the last time she looked at you like that.

there’s a boy at school called ryan. in class, he leans back in his chair until the front legs lift off the floor, balancing on two plastic points against ancient carpet. he throws ripped chunks of his rubber at his friends when they’re not looking. he never brings books or a pencil case to class, snickers in the back when the teachers are talking, mocks the girl with braces like all the other boys. when he smiles, you count his perfect white teeth. when he’s concentrating, he traces them with his tongue. you imagine how it might feel to replace his tongue with yours. it frightens you. at lunchtime, you sit on the edge of the oval alone watching fluffy clouds drift away, leaving you behind. ryan plays footy no matter the weather and ends most school days with dirt and grass stains on his uniform. in the change-rooms before phys ed, you watch him undress from the corner of your eye and pretend to be focused on tying up your shoes. all of him is golden, even the creamy skin of his stomach and thighs. you imagine how it would feel under your hands. it frightens you. sometimes you look up and find him already watching. and he doesn’t look away or pretend he wasn’t staring. your gazes lock and you can feel him peeling something away to look at a piece of you you’ve always worked to hide. it frightens you.

it happens almost by accident. your bike is next to his in the bike shed. you arrive at the same moment one afternoon. he sometimes has a milk crate lashed to the back for his schoolbag and the sight of it makes you smile. you can feel that searching gaze as you unlock your bike from the rack. he just looks at you, hands on the handlebars and both feet still firmly planted on the cement floor. come on, he eventually says, swinging a leg over the worn leather seat. i wanna show you something.

you ride behind him and watch sweat darken the back of his shirt under the empty blue sky. you imagine how it might taste and it frightens you. the bikes are abandoned beside a gumtree losing its bark and he leads you through yellow grass that gives his hair a golden cast. you’re watching him, entranced by the stiffness in his movement. that languid, cool confidence is replaced by a kind of mechanical swagger—a boy playing at casualness and failing terribly. you can’t imagine why he’s trying so hard to seem tough. you’re so hypnotised by his performance that you nearly step on the snake with the frog in its mouth. when you rear back, yelling in shock and fear, ryan’s delight is cruel and his high, mocking laughter makes you feel hot and bristly. he prods the snake with a stick. his jibes land, the jab about a fear of heights, the rolling eyes. they all sting and you try not to let it show.

the floor in the abandoned mill is soaked in sunlight. motes of dust spin in the air, kicked up by your feet and the bits of refuse you throw around the space together. you snap into stillness at his warning—funnel web, on your shoulder—and something ugly cracks inside you when it turns out to be another tease at your expense. you’re snarling fuck you, cunt before you can think and in another moment you’re both on that warm floor, twisting and wrestling and all you want is for him to cut to the fucking chase and tell you why you’re really here, and his body is hot on top of yours and his hands are tight around your wrists and that light-spun golden hair is falling in his eyes and he’s watching you glance at the place where he’s holding you down and your chest is tight and bursting and aching and his sudden kiss comes down so hard that you forget everything else that came before.

you wrench out of the kiss by instinct. his hands release your wrists. you’re panting now, staring up at him. he’s still. his face is open. you look at the softness of his parted lips and remember wanting to lick his perfect white teeth, wanting to taste his sweat, wanting to feel his body under your palms, and it puts a lightness in your belly that you’re convinced would have you floating away if not for his weight. you drag him down and try to kiss that lightness into his mouth.

but it really did work. it wasn’t just some silly ritual. ryan comes for me every night when i’m closing up. he won’t leave even when i beg him to go. strong hands which have only ever hurt me do more harm than i thought possible. i die looking at the twisted, snarling face of the boy i wish would love me gently. naim corners me with languid kisses in photobooths and against chickenwire fences and under fluttering sheets hung over the hills hoist. he shows me tenderness i’ve never let myself have, but it’s only ever wool over my eyes—a smokescreen quickly blown away. he finds me wherever i am and he terrifies me with his brutal strength, his implacable gaze, his softly smiling mouth. i run and run and he always follows. at night i dream about his hands on me, sighing in the night-dark of sleep, and wake up screaming.

so much to love in this scene, of course the iconic “nothing” and their smoky kiss but more than that i adore the complete change in ryan’s demeanour here. this is such a contrast from ryan with hunter and ryan at the beginning—throwing stones, teasing, shoving, wrestling. all of this violence, as if making it hurt enough justifies what they’re about to do. pain is the price of intimacy, of desire, of giving in to himself. even the way he and hunter kiss is violent, it’s all grabbing hands and teeth and wrestling with ribs still aching from the force of their throws. the stones are punishment to these boys, a kind of self-flagellatory ritual they’ve devised together. i don’t believe their kiss under the hills hoist is their first one. i think they’ve just built this pattern, because it’s the only way they know how to live with this thing between them that they shouldn’t have. hurt me, and i’ll hurt you. kiss me, and i’ll kiss you. make me ache and you’ll make it better, and then when we walk away from one another we’ll have the bruises to prove it.