thinking abt the wording of naim's "you shouldn't be near me. i shouldn't be near you either" break up attempt outside the church and how when ryan responds with a short, bitten-back "right." he can't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. he understands why naim is scared, the cloying metallic scent of hot blood pouring down his neck is hard to forget; the throb of fresh stitches threaded across his ear a physical reminder. but the way naim says it strikes a nerve. shouldn't. should not. he sounds just like ryan's parents, like the pastor and the church and the boys at school. you shouldn't be near me, naim says. like he believes the entity is a rightful consequence for continuing to be together. ryan is hurt naim is trying to end things, but more than that he's frustrated by how readily naim submits to the fear. bc it's not i'm scared and i hurt you and im sorry, but the heavy judgement of shouldn't. naim reveals through this choice of words how shackled he is by his internalised homophobia and how naive he remains about their reality. he swallows the religious lie that what they "should" do is be apart, and their compliance will mean deliverence .
yet ryan knows better. he's scared too, but more than that he's fucking tired. he likes naim, likes him with an urgency and wholeness he's never felt before. but he was raised here, been in bandee seventeen years to naim's few months, and he understands what it means to be who they are. he acted on his queerness with hunter rather than entirely repress it, and had it made a spectacle in front of the church, enduring the hits and jeers and disapproving looks that followed. because it was a long time coming, wasn't it? naim thinks that by burying it deep, capitulating to the church and conforming, they will be safe. but when ryan reflects on the suffocating masculine pretense he put on everyday along with his uniform jacket and shirt, he realises that throwing the punches was never better than taking them. repression and conformity doesn't guarantee safety. they cannot change who they are and who they desire; the thing haunting them will simply change its face.
so: "right." he says, hands in his pockets, biting the inside of his cheek so he doesn't cry or yell or both. he almost leaves it there, turning away and walking back inside, but as soon as naim is out of sight ryan realises he can't bear to let him go. naim is naive, he's skittish, has proven to ryan again and again that fear wins out over whatever it is they share, but ryan loves him. so he rejects his petty knee-jerk "fuck you then" and swallows his pride. I don't want it to look like some other dickhead, he tells him, shoulders braced and voice tight, his entire body fighting against the vulnerability as if it were self-injury. I want it to look like you. it's a confession yeah, but also a plea. you can't hide from this naim. you can't run from yourself forever. you won't ever stop being afraid. but i can live with it if it's you. i want the thing that haunts me to wear your face, because it's the truest way for me to live.
