marianne

"Yes brother, take her. She likes horses" khabib said with a knowing look on his face

He found you cleaning again, this time you were just wiping off the notes from the whiteboard

You turned around when you heard footsteps. Islam was stood there with his gym bag slung over his shoulder.

"My uncle said you can come tomorrow" 

"Really?"

"Yes, after training tomorrow meet me here."

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then" you said smiling

He nodded and walked out the gym, you finished up and left shortly after.

The next afternoon, you stood in front of your mirror trying to decide what to do with your hair.

You weren't really trying to look nice or anything. You were literally just going to see some horses, but you also didn't want your hair getting in your face the whole time, so you decided to braid it.

You separated your hair into three sections and started braiding, having to redo it a couple of times because you'd messed it up. Eventually, you got it looking decent enough and tied the end, letting the braid fall over your shoulder.

You looked at yourself in the mirror for a second.

"Good enough."

You grabbed your bag and headed downstairs.

You'd been looking forward to seeing the horses ever since Islam had mentioned them.

You'd always loved horses, even when you were little. You used to beg your mum to let you have one all the time, despite knowing perfectly well that she was probably never going to say yes.

It never stopped you from asking, though.

Growing up in Dagestan, you were used to mountains. They were just part of everyday life for you. You'd grown up seeing them, travelling through them and hearing stories about the different villages and places hidden away between them.

You couldn't really imagine living somewhere without them.

But horses were different.

You'd seen them before, obviously, but you'd never really had the chance to spend much time around them.

So yeah, you were pretty excited.

When you arrived at the gym, Islam was already finishing his training.

You waited outside for a few minutes, and for some reason, you felt nervous as well as excited. You weren't even sure why. It wasn't like this was a date.

You were going to see horses.

That was it.

Eventually, you saw Islam walking towards you with his gym bag hanging over one shoulder.

"You ready?" he asked.

You smiled.

"Yes."

His eyes moved towards your hair for a second.

"You braided it."

You reached up and touched the end of your braid.

"Yeah. I thought it'd be easier around the horses."

He nodded.

"Good."

You stared at him.

"That's all?"

He looked confused.

"What?"

"You just said good."

He shrugged.

"What should I say?"

"I don't know. Something more interesting."

He actually thought about it for a second.

"Your hair is nice."

You smiled.

"Thank you."

He nodded before opening the car door for you.

You climbed inside, trying not to smile too much for some reason.

The drive started off pretty quietly, with you looking out the window and watching the mountains become more visible the further you went.

After a few minutes, you looked over at him.

"I've actually been looking forward to this."

"The horses?"

"Obviously."

He glanced at you.

"You really like horses."

"I told you."

"I know."

"Then why are you surprised?"

"I'm not."

"You sound surprised."

"I'm not."

You rolled your eyes.

"You're annoying."

He laughed quietly.

You smiled and looked back out of the window.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

It wasn't awkward, though.

Which was kind of strange.

You'd known Islam for years, but you'd barely ever actually spoken to him properly. Most of the time you'd just see him at the gym with your uncle, and you'd never really had much reason to talk to him for longer than a few minutes.

Now you were sitting in his car together like it was completely normal.

After a while, he looked at you.

"You like mountains?"

You gave him a confused look.

"Of course."

"You grew up around them."

"Exactly."

You looked back outside.

"I don't think I could live somewhere without mountains. It'd feel weird."

He nodded.

"They are home."

"Yeah."

You smiled slightly.

"But I still want to travel."

"Where?"

You didn't even have to think about it.

"Georgia."

He looked at you.

"Georgia?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

You immediately started smiling because you'd wanted to go there for ages.

"The history, mostly. There's so much of it. I really want to see Tbilisi, especially the Old Town."

He listened quietly.

"I've seen pictures and it looks so pretty, but I want to actually walk around there myself. See all the old buildings and everything."

You paused for a second.

"And Didgori."

He looked at you.

"Didgori?"

"That's my dream."

He looked slightly confused.

"The Battle of Didgori," you explained, suddenly sounding like you were giving him a history lesson. "It's one of the most important battles in Georgian history."

He nodded slowly.

"I've read about it so many times, and I just think it'd be amazing to actually stand there one day."

"Why?"

You shrugged.

"I don't know. I just think it's different when you're actually standing somewhere where something happened. You can read about history in a book as much as you want, but when you're actually there, it probably feels completely different."

He nodded.

"I understand."

You smiled.

"I knew you would."

"You like history?"

"Very much."

"I didn't know."

He said it so casually that you laughed.

"You never asked."

He looked at you for a second.

"True."

"Exactly."

You smiled and looked back out the window.

When you finally arrived at the farm, you immediately knew you were going to love it.

It wasn't anything fancy, but it was lovely.

There were fields stretching out around you, mountains in the distance and the sound of animals somewhere nearby. The air was cooler too, and everything just felt peaceful.

It reminded you of home.

You got out of the car and looked around.

"This is beautiful."

Islam shut his door.

"You like it?"

"I love it."

He smiled.

"I knew."

You followed him towards the horses, trying not to look too excited.

Your hands were clasped behind your back as you walked, and you could already feel yourself smiling.

Then you saw them.

You stopped.

"Oh my God."

Islam looked at you.

"What?"

"They're beautiful."

You looked at the horses again.

"And big."

He laughed.

"You like them?"

You looked at him.

"No, I hate them."

He stared at you for a second.

You burst out laughing.

"Obviously I like them."

He smiled before opening the gate.

"Come."

You followed him inside.

There were several horses in the field, most of them just grazing peacefully.

You stood there for a moment, watching them.

You'd obviously seen horses before, but you'd never really been this close to them.

One of them lifted its head and looked directly at you.

You stopped.

Islam noticed.

"Don't be scared."

"I'm not scared."

"You are."

"I'm being careful."

He smiled.

"Come."

He walked over first, holding his hand out and letting the horse sniff him before gently stroking its neck.

You watched him before slowly walking closer.

"Like this?"

"Yes."

You held your hand out.

The horse sniffed your fingers before nudging your palm.

Your face immediately lit up.

"Oh my God."

Islam laughed.

"You like him."

"I do."

You started stroking his nose.

"I think he likes me too."

"He does."

You looked at Islam.

"How do you know?"

"I know horses."

You laughed.

"Of course you do."

After a few minutes, you looked at him.

"What's his name?"

"He doesn't have one."

You stared at him.

"He doesn't have a name?"

"No."

"That's actually so sad."

He laughed.

"You can name him."

You looked back at the horse.

"Really?"

"Yes."

You thought for a few seconds.

"Mirian."

Islam looked at you.

"Mirian?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It sounds strong."

He looked at the horse before nodding.

"Mirian."

You smiled.

"I think it suits him."

"Okay."

You looked at him suspiciously.

"You're actually going to call him that now, aren't you?"

"You named him."

"Exactly."

"So his name is Mirian."

You laughed.

"You're ridiculous."

You stayed around the horses for quite a while before eventually sitting on an old wooden fence overlooking the fields.

For a while, neither of you said anything.

It was peaceful.

The sun was starting to go down, and the sky was slowly changing colour above the mountains.

You looked out at them.

"I think I'd like somewhere like this one day."

Islam looked at you.

"You want to live here?"

"Maybe. Somewhere like it."

You smiled.

"I'd want horses, obviously, and somewhere I could write. Somewhere quiet where I could just have my own space."

"You would write?"

You looked at him.

"Obviously."

He smiled slightly.

"You really like writing."

"I do."

"Then you should keep doing it."

You smiled.

"You always say that."

"Because it's true."

You looked down at your hands.

"I wish everything was that easy."

"What isn't?"

You hesitated.

"Knowing what people expect from you."

He didn't say anything, so you continued.

"Sometimes I feel like because I'm a girl, people already have this idea of what I'm supposed to be like. What I'm supposed to do. Where I'm supposed to stay."

You looked towards the mountains again.

"I don't want that."

"What do you want?"

You smiled.

"Everything."

He looked at you.

"Everything?"

"Yeah."

You laughed softly.

"I want to travel. I want to write. I want to see places I've only ever read about. I want to go to Georgia and stand at Didgori. I want to walk around Tbilisi's Old Town and see all the history for myself."

You paused.

"I just want to see the world."

Islam was quiet for a moment.

Then he said,

"You can."

You looked at him.

"What?"

"You can do all those things."

You smiled.

"You make it sound easy."

"Maybe it is."

You laughed.

"You're so optimistic."

He shook his head.

"No. Disciplined."

You laughed.

"Of course."

"If you want something, work for it."

You looked at him for a moment.

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Yes."

You smiled.

"I think that's one of the things I like about you."

The second the words left your mouth, you realised what you'd said.

You quickly looked away, feeling the heat crawl up your neck.

"I mean... your way of thinking."

There was a small pause.

"I understand."

You glanced at him.

He was looking away, but you could see the tiniest smile on his face.

You smiled too.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

Eventually, the sun disappeared behind the mountains, and you both slowly got up and started walking back towards the car.

You kicked a little stone along the ground as you walked, suddenly feeling slightly embarrassed about what you'd said earlier.

Why had you even said that?

You liked his personality.

That was normal.

People liked their friends.

It didn't mean anything.

At least, that's what you told yourself.

By the time you got back to the car, it was getting dark.

You climbed into the passenger seat and looked back towards the farm one last time.

"Thank you."

Islam started the car.

"For what?"

"For bringing me."

"You liked it."

"I loved it."

He smiled.

"Good."

You looked out of the window.

"I want to come again."

"You can."

"And I want to see Mirian."

He laughed.

"Your horse?"

You turned towards him.

"I named him."

"You think he's yours now?"

"Yes."

He shook his head.

"Okay."

You smiled and looked back out of the window.

The drive home was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

You actually liked the silence.

You kept thinking about everything you'd talked about, especially what he'd said about working for the things you wanted.

You'd known Islam for years.

But today felt different.

Not in some huge, dramatic way.

Nothing had really happened.

You'd just gone to see some horses.

You'd talked.

You'd laughed.

That was it.

Still, when you thought about it, you realised something.

You hadn't thought about Ahmed once.

A few days passed with no word from Ahmed. You hadn't seen him at the gym either, so you told yourself to forget about him and just move on. You weren't even sure if you really liked him in the first place. You hadn't thought about it that much. Maybe it was just because you'd never received that kind of attention before, and you'd gotten caught up in the excitement of it. Whatever it was, it was over now.

It was evening when you headed to your usual shift at the gym. The familiar musky aroma hit you as soon as you walked through the doors. You pulled out your wired headphones, plugged them into your phone and grabbed the cleaning products before making your way towards the café.

You started with the coffee machine, wiping down the counters and tables before sweeping the floor. Your favourite songs played loudly through your headphones as you quietly hummed along, completely lost in your own little world.

You almost jumped out of your skin when someone tapped your shoulder.

You spun around, quickly ripping your headphones from your ears, only to see Islam standing in front of you. He had clearly been trying to get your attention for a few seconds, but you hadn't heard him.

He immediately stepped back, putting his hands up slightly as if to show you that he hadn't meant to scare you.

"Islam, heh. You scared me then," you said with a small laugh, relieved.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that. I just came in to fill up my water," he said, looking down at his feet for a moment before looking back at you.

"Of course, go ahead." You stepped to the side, letting him reach the counter.

"Thanks."

He moved past you and filled up his bottle, and for a moment you went back to cleaning before deciding to make conversation.

"How's training going? I saw you yesterday. You look much more confident. Is my uncle going hard on you?" You chuckled softly.

"Coach is always hard. He make me a good student. Hard is good," Islam replied.

"I think he pays extra attention to you," you said, lowering your voice slightly. "I think you're his favourite."

Islam screwed the lid back onto his bottle before leaning against the counter and looking at you.

"I listen most. I train the hardest. When I'm in gym, nothing else matters."

You looked at him properly then, understanding just how much he cared about his sport and his dream.

"That's my uncle's favourite type of person. A disciplined one."

You both spent the next few minutes talking. Even though you'd known each other for years, you realised you'd never actually taken the time to know one another. You knew him as your uncle's favourite student, and he knew you as Khabib's younger cousin, but that was about it.

Islam was quiet and reserved, but you could tell that was simply who he was. He wasn't flashy or cocky like some of the other fighters you'd met. He was just Islam.

"What do you do outside the gym?" you asked, genuinely interested now.

"I like horses, fishing, mountains. What do you like?"

"I love horses too. I read and write sometimes," you said, almost excitedly.

He noticed the change in your voice when you mentioned horses, and before he could think about it too much, he blurted out,

"My uncle has farm. He has horses. Would you like to see them?"

You noticed the colour pink slowly rise up his neck and onto his ears as soon as he asked you. He suddenly seemed nervous, almost as if he was waiting to see whether you'd say yes.

"Really? I would love to. If that's okay with him, that would be wonderful."

The relief on his face was almost immediate.

Islam nodded, a small smile appearing on his face.

"Of course. My uncle will not mind."

You smiled back at him.

"I've never actually been around many horses. I used to beg my mum to let me have one when I was younger."

Islam laughed quietly.

"You still want one?"

"Definitely. One day."

"What would you call it?"

You paused, thinking seriously about it.

"I don't know. Something pretty, probably."

He nodded as though you'd just given him a very important answer.

"I think you should call it something strong."

You laughed softly.

"Like what?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know. You decide."

You shook your head, smiling as you turned back towards the coffee machine.

"You're not very helpful."

"I am helping."

"You're really not."

He smiled again, looking down at the bottle in his hands.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. It wasn't awkward, though. There was something strangely comfortable about standing beside him. You'd known Islam for years, but you'd never really spoken to him like this before.

You glanced over at him.

"Do you always come here this late?"

"Usually. Training finishes late."

"You must be exhausted."

"Sometimes."

He looked towards you, his expression softening slightly.

"But I like it."

You nodded.

"I think that's important. Loving what you do."

Islam studied you for a moment before looking away.

"You love writing?"

You smiled.

"Yeah. I don't know if I'm very good at it, but I enjoy it."

"You should keep doing it."

You looked at him, slightly surprised by how certain he sounded.

"Really?"

He nodded.

"If you enjoy something, why stop?"

You smiled softly.

"I like that."

"What?"

"That you said that."

He shrugged, suddenly looking a little embarrassed.

"It's true."

You finished wiping down the counter and picked up the cleaning cloth before moving towards the other side of the café.

"I should probably finish before my uncle comes looking for me."

Islam chuckled.

"He will find you."

"Exactly."

You continued cleaning, and Islam stayed nearby for another few moments, seemingly in no rush to leave. Eventually, he picked up his water bottle and started towards the gym.

He'd taken a few steps when he stopped and looked back at you.

"I'll ask my uncle about the horses tomorrow."

You turned around.

"Okay."

He hesitated for a moment, his fingers tightening slightly around his bottle.

"And maybe..." He paused, looking down before glancing back at you. "Maybe I can show you."

Your smile grew.

"I'd like that."

Islam nodded, trying to hide the smile appearing on his face.

"Good."

He turned and headed back towards the gym.

You watched him walk away for a second before turning back to your cleaning, a small smile still on your face.

You didn't know why, but you suddenly felt a little happier than you had when you'd walked through the doors that evening.

Maybe it was because you'd finally gotten to know Islam a little better.

You got undressed and went straight into the shower, getting ready for bed. After drying your hair, you finished it off with a simple plait before climbing into bed.

You woke up the next morning to a message from Khabib.

"Uncle Abdulmanap wants you in the gym today for cleaning as you didn't show up last night for some reason 🙄"

You groaned and sat up, already trying to think of an excuse for missing last night.

"Sorry, I was with a friend and totally forgot I had to clean up. I'll be there soon."

You put your phone down, then suddenly realised something.

You hadn't had a message from Ahmed.

Not a goodnight.

Not a good morning.

Not even a "I had a great time tonight, I hope you enjoyed it."

Nothing.

You clicked onto your chats and stared at the screen for a few seconds.

Weird.

You got up anyway and changed into your working leggings and top before grabbing your things and walking to the gym.

As soon as you entered, the warm, humid air hit you. It was a huge difference from the freezing cold street outside.

You greeted the receptionist before making your way over to find your uncle.

"Uncle!" you called, walking over to him. "I'm so sorry I didn't show up last night. I got busy with Mom."

He smiled and mussed up your hair before playfully pushing you towards the main area.

"Go on, go clean."

You laughed quietly and rolled your eyes.

There was a small group of Khabib's friends training, and as soon as they noticed you, they started muttering to each other.

You looked around.

No sign of Ahmed.

Weird.

You quickly fixed your hair, wondering if maybe that was the problem, before noticing Khabib looking over at Islam.

And Islam wouldn't take his eyes off you.

You suddenly felt really exposed, like everyone knew something you didn't.

You started picking up the gloves and pads from the floor and putting them into the box, trying your best to ignore whatever was going on.

Eventually, you looked up at Khabib.

Your eyes were practically screaming, What is going on?

He started walking over to you while the rest of the group huddled together like penguins, whispering and staring.

"Cousin," you said.

"Cousin," Khabib replied.

You opened your hands in confusion.

"What's going on? Why is everyone acting weird?"

The corner of Khabib's mouth curled upwards.

"Nothing. You're being paranoid and acting suspicious. What's going on with you?"

"I'm not. I'm fine."

You paused.

"Where's Ahmed?"

The second the words left your mouth, you regretted asking.

Khabib's eyes immediately flicked towards Islam before returning to you.

"You should know. He's your boyfriend."

Your cheeks instantly started glowing.

"What? No! He's just a friend, you know that."

You tried to play it cool, but you could feel someone's eyes on you again.

You turned slightly.

Islam was looking at you.

You quickly looked away.

Little did you know, the night before, when you had been on your date with Ahmed, Khabib and Islam had been keeping an eye on things from Khabib's car.

Just in case.

And when Ahmed had dropped you home, they had waited until he was alone before approaching him.

Khabib folded his arms.

"What are your intentions with my cousin?"

Ahmed looked surprised.

"N-nothing, brother. I mean... I just want to treat her well. Like she deserves."

Islam let out a quiet, amused huff from beside Khabib.

"Ёбаная сука," (fucking bitch)

he muttered jokingly under his breath.

Ahmed looked between them nervously.

Khabib sighed and shook his head.

"You should've come and spoken to me first."

Ahmed lowered his gaze.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You know why I'm saying this, right?" Khabib continued. "She's important to us. If you're serious about her, you need to show some respect and actually have the courage to speak to her family."

Ahmed nodded quickly.

"I understand, brother."

Khabib stared at him for a moment before finally relaxing his expression.

"Good. That's all I wanted to hear."

Ahmed nodded again.

"Sorry, brother. I understand. I won't bother her again"

Islam couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his face.

I won't bother her again.

Those were the words he needed to hear.

He wouldn't have to watch her smile at Ahmed like that again.

He wouldn't have to see her getting out of Ahmed's car holding the flowers he'd bought her.

Because next time...

He wanted it to be him she smiled at like that.

And he wanted to be the one buying her the flowers...

You carried on cleaning, pretending you didn't notice all the eyes on you.

You were just trying to make up for bailing on your uncle because of Ahmed, who still hadn't even texted you.

Every few minutes, you checked your phone.

Nothing.

You checked again.

Still nothing.

Eventually, you started losing hope.

After an hour or two, you finally finished cleaning and headed towards the café inside the building.

You ordered your usual cappuccino with extra chocolate on top before getting ready to begin your freezing walk home.

On your way out, you stopped for a second and looked through the glass into the gym.

Everyone was still training.

Islam was wrestling with one of the older guys and was clearly winning.

You watched for a few seconds.

Before you even realised it, you were smiling.

You quickly looked away, shook your head slightly, and walked home.

Maybe because he was nice to you.

Maybe because he made you feel noticed.

Your whole life, you had always been surrounded by family. Everyone cared about you, everyone looked out for you, but it was different when someone outside your family made an effort.

Ahmed was confident.

He knew what he wanted.

And honestly, it was flattering.

A few days after he asked you out, he told you he would pick you up after you finished getting ready.

You expected him to just show up like a normal person.

You were not expecting the scene that happened when you walked outside.

A black BMW was parked outside your house.

You immediately smiled because, of course.

Of course Ahmed would arrive like that.

He was standing beside the car, looking proud of himself.

"Ready?"

You laughed.

"You look way too happy."

"Maybe because I planned something."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What did you do?"

Instead of answering, he opened the back door.

And you froze.

Inside the car was a huge bouquet of red roses.

Not just a normal bouquet.

A ridiculous amount of roses.

You stared.

"Ahmed..."

He smiled.

"One hundred and one."

You looked at him.

"One hundred and one?"

"One hundred and one."

You shook your head, laughing.

"You're actually crazy."

"Maybe."

He picked them up and handed them to you.

"But I wanted you to know you're special."

You looked down at the flowers, not knowing what to say.

Then he pulled out a small box.

You immediately looked at him.

"What is that?"

"Open it."

Inside was a necklace.

It was beautiful.

For a moment, you were speechless.

"Ahmed, you really didn't have to do all this."

"I wanted to."

You looked at the necklace again.

"Thank you."

You meant it.

You appreciated the effort.

What you didn't know was that two people had seen the entire thing.

Further down the street, Khabib and Islam were standing near a car.

They weren't exactly hiding very well.

But they weren't trying to get involved either.

At least, that's what they told themselves.

Khabib's face was already serious.

"One hundred and one roses?"

Islam stayed quiet.

He was watching you smile.

Watching Ahmed open the car door for you.

Watching how comfortable Ahmed already seemed around you.

And for some reason, it bothered him.

A lot.

"He's doing too much," Khabib said.

Islam glanced at him.

"You think?"

Khabib looked at him.

"You agree?"

Islam immediately looked away.

"I'm just saying."

Khabib almost smiled.

Because he noticed.

He noticed everything.

The way Islam kept looking over.

The way he suddenly cared who you were spending time with.

The way he was pretending he didn't.

"Interesting," Khabib said.

Islam frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I know that look."

Khabib laughed.

"You don't know anything."

"You're annoying."

"Everyone says that."

The date itself started well.

Ahmed took you to a nice restaurant, and he made sure everything was perfect.

He was charming.

He made you laugh.

He complimented you constantly.

And you couldn't deny that it felt nice.

You liked feeling appreciated.

But there was something you noticed throughout the night.

Ahmed liked making an impression.

Sometimes more than he liked just sitting and talking.

He talked about himself a lot.

His car.

His achievements.

The things he had.

You listened, smiled, and tried to enjoy yourself.

But part of you kept thinking about how different Islam was.

Islam never tried to impress anyone.

He didn't need to.

He was just himself.

And maybe that was why you found yourself noticing the difference.

You pushed the thought away.

Because it was unfair.

You barely knew Islam.

Ahmed was the one who had actually asked you out.

Ahmed was the one making an effort.

Later, when Ahmed drove you home, the car became quieter.

The excitement from earlier had faded.

He looked over at you.

"You had a good time, right?"

You smiled.

"Yeah. I did."

He smiled back.

"I knew you would."

When the car stopped outside your house, you reached for the door.

But Ahmed stopped you.

"Wait."

You looked at him.

"What?"

He looked nervous for the first time all night.

"I really like you."

Your expression softened slightly.

"Ahmed..."

"I mean it."

You didn't know what to say.

Before you could answer, he leaned closer.

You immediately moved back.

"Ahmed."

He stopped.

You looked at him seriously.

"I'm not ready for that."

The smile disappeared from his face.

For a second, he looked disappointed.

Then he nodded.

"Okay."

You appreciated that.

You didn't want the night to end badly.

"Thank you for tonight," you said.

He nodded.

"Goodnight."

You got out of the car and walked toward your house.

But Ahmed wasn't the only one who had seen what happened.

Across the street, Khabib and Islam had been watching.

And Khabib was already angry.

Not because Ahmed liked you.

Not even because he took you on a date.

Because he had seen the moment you pulled away.

He had seen your expression.

He knew you were uncomfortable.

"He needs to understand boundaries," Khabib said.

Islam didn't answer.

He was staring at the house where you had just walked inside.

His jealousy had been there all night.

Seeing Ahmed pick you up.

Seeing him make you laugh.

Seeing him give you flowers.

But now it was mixed with something else.

Concern.

Because Islam didn't like seeing you uncomfortable.

Even if he had no right to feel anything.

Khabib looked at him.

"You were angry the whole night."

Islam looked at him.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I wasn't."

Khabib shook his head.

"You're a terrible liar."

Islam sighed.

He didn't know what to say.

Because the truth was embarrassing.

He didn't like Ahmed.

Not because Ahmed was doing something wrong.

Not because he was competition.

But because every time Ahmed made you smile, Islam felt like he was losing something he never even had.

And that was the part he hated the most.

Because you were just Khabib's cousin.

Just someone he met at the gym.

Just someone who smiled at him sometimes.

So why did seeing someone else get your attention bother him so much?

Hi I’m so sorry i haven’t been updating on here, I’m writing this on Wattpad so if you wanna go read it there , you’ll have more updates;)

@marianneufc

A few weeks passed, and life continued like normal.

At least, it felt normal to you.

You still went to the gym whenever your uncle needed help. You still watched Khabib train and wondered how someone could willingly wake up every morning and put themselves through that much pain.

You still argued with him over everything.

Sometimes you wondered if annoying you was part of his training routine.

"You know, one day you might actually say something nice to me," you told him.

Khabib looked at you.

"Why would I do that?"

You stared at him.

"See? This is exactly what I mean."

He laughed.

But even though he annoyed you constantly, you knew he cared.

Everyone knew.

That was just how Khabib was.

He didn't always say things, but he showed it.

You also still saw Islam sometimes.

Not often.

Not enough for anything to really change.

Sometimes he was at the gym.

Sometimes you saw him at family gatherings.

Sometimes you exchanged a simple greeting and went your separate ways.

That was it.

Nothing dramatic.

Nothing special.

But you would be lying if you said you didn't notice him.

There was something about him.

Maybe it was how calm he was.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn't try to get attention from everyone around him.

Most people wanted to be noticed.

Islam didn't.

And for some reason, you liked that.

But you never let yourself think too much about it.

Because why would you?

You were pretty sure he didn't see you that way.

To him, you were just Khabib's younger cousin.

And that was probably all you would ever be.

A few weeks later, you stayed late at the gym to help clean.

Your uncle had asked you to organize some things and wipe down the equipment after training finished. Everyone slowly started leaving until the gym became quiet.

You didn't mind.

Actually, you liked the quiet.

It gave you a break from everyone's voices.

When you finally finished, you grabbed your things and walked outside.

You weren't expecting anyone to be there.

But someone was.

A black BMW was parked outside.

And leaning against it was Ahmed.

You slowed down.

"Ahmed?"

He smiled when he saw you.

"Finally done?"

You looked around.

"Why are you here?"

He pushed himself away from the car and walked closer.

"I was waiting for you."

You blinked.

"You were?"

He nodded, looking slightly nervous, which was unusual for him.

Normally Ahmed was confident.

Always joking.

Always smiling.

But right now, he seemed like he had actually thought about what he wanted to say.

Then he opened the back door of his car.

And your eyes widened.

Inside was a huge bouquet of roses.

Not just a few.

A lot.

He picked them up and handed them to you.

"I wanted to give these to you."

You looked at the flowers, completely surprised.

"Ahmed..."

He smiled.

"I know it might be a lot, but I wanted you to know something."

You looked at him.

"What?"

He took a breath.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

You immediately looked away, feeling your face heat up.

You weren't used to people saying things like that to you.

Especially not so directly.

"I mean it," he continued. "You're kind, you're funny, and every time I see you here, you make the place feel different."

You didn't know what to say.

Ahmed smiled.

"I would really like to take you out sometime. Just us. A date."

You looked down at the roses.

You knew Ahmed was nice.

You knew he liked you.

And honestly?

It felt good.

It felt nice knowing someone actually wanted to spend time with you.

So after a moment, you smiled.

"Okay."

His face immediately lit up.

"Really?"

You laughed.

"Yeah."

"I was hoping you would say that."

You shook your head, smiling.

"You're very confident."

"Usually."

You laughed.

What you didn't notice was the two people standing further away near the gym.

Khabib and Islam.

They had walked out just in time to see everything.

And neither of them looked happy.

Khabib's reaction was immediate.

His expression changed the second he saw Ahmed hand you the flowers.

Because in his mind, you were still the same little cousin who used to follow him around and ask him to carry things for you.

You were still the girl who complained when he teased you.

You were still family.

And now some guy was waiting outside the gym, giving you roses and asking you out?

He didn't like it.

Not at all.

"Who is that?" Khabib asked.

Islam didn't answer straight away.

He was too busy looking at you.

At the way you smiled.

At the flowers in your hands.

At the way Ahmed looked at you like you were the only person there.

And something about it made his chest feel tight.

He hated it.

He hated that he cared.

Because why did it matter?

You weren't his.

You weren't even close like that.

He had no reason to feel angry.

But he did.

He had seen Ahmed at the gym before.

He knew exactly what kind of guy he was.

Confident.

Charming.

The type of person who knew how to make people like him.

And now he was making you smile.

Islam looked away.

Trying to convince himself it wasn't bothering him.

It wasn't working.

Khabib looked at him.

"You don't like this either."

Islam immediately looked at him.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"I'm just surprised."

"Sure."

Islam didn't answer.

Because he didn't know what to say.

Khabib crossed his arms, still watching you.

"I don't trust him."

Islam looked back toward you.

Neither did he.

But his reason was different.

Khabib was worried because you were his little cousin.

Islam was jealous because, for the first time, he realized someone else could take your attention away from him.

And he didn't like that feeling.

Not one bit.

You finally noticed them standing there.

"Khabib?"

Both of them looked over.

You walked toward them, still holding the roses.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Khabib ignored the question.

"What are those?"

You looked down.

"Flowers."

"I can see that."

You sighed.

"Ahmed gave them to me."

Khabib looked over at Ahmed.

Then back at you.

"And?"

You frowned.

"And what?"

He paused.

"You like him?"

The question caught you off guard.

You looked away.

"I don't know. He's nice."

Khabib didn't look convinced.

Islam stayed quiet.

Too quiet.

You glanced at him.

"Are you okay?"

His eyes met yours for a second.

"Yeah."

But his answer was too quick.

And for some reason, you didn't believe him.

Still, you didn't push.

Because you weren't even sure why you cared.

You were just confused.

Because Ahmed liked you.

He had made that very clear.

But Islam...

Islam was impossible to read.

And maybe that was why you never let yourself hope.

Because liking someone who probably didn't like you back was pointless.

So you smiled, held onto your roses, and convinced yourself that everything was fine.

Even though, somewhere deep down, you wished you knew what Islam was thinking.

A few days later, you ended up going back to the gym.

Not because you wanted to train.

Definitely not.

You had made that very clear to Khabib many times.

You were only there because your uncle had asked your mom to bring some things over, and somehow that turned into you being the one who had to deliver them.

You were starting to think your family had a secret plan where every excuse somehow ended with you going to the gym.

When you walked inside, everything was the same as always.

The sound of people training.

The coaches shouting instructions.

The sound of gloves hitting bags.

The smell of the mats and the old equipment.

You had gotten used to it by now.

At first, the gym always felt intense. Like everyone inside was so serious that you didn't want to interrupt anything.

But after coming a few times, it didn't feel as unfamiliar anymore.

You saw Khabib across the room, training like usual.

You weren't surprised.

You were starting to think he would still train even if the building was on fire.

He noticed you and gave you a quick nod before going back to what he was doing.

You rolled your eyes.

Typical Khabib.

You walked over to the side and sat down, waiting for your uncle.

You weren't really watching anyone in particular.

You were just there.

Then someone walked over.

"You're Khabib's cousin, right?"

You looked up.

A guy you recognized from the gym was standing there.

You had seen him before but never really talked to him.

"Yeah."

He smiled.

"I'm Ahmed."

You nodded.

"Y/N."

"I know."

You laughed slightly.

"Everyone knows everyone here."

"That's how it is."

He sat down nearby, not too close, just enough to start a conversation.

You didn't mind.

Ahmed was different from some of the other guys at the gym. He was more talkative, more relaxed. He joked around instead of being serious all the time.

"So you come here often?"

You looked around.

"Not really."

He smiled.

"I see you here enough."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Do you?"

"Yeah."

You laughed.

"You sound like you're keeping track."

"Maybe I am."

You immediately knew what he was doing.

The way he said it.

The little smile.

The confidence.

You weren't exactly clueless.

You just weren't used to people being so obvious.

"You're funny," you said.

"I try."

You shook your head.

"That sounds like something Islam would say."

You didn't even realize you mentioned him until after you said it.

Ahmed smiled.

"Islam?"

You shrugged.

"Nothing. Just saying."

He laughed.

"You know him?"

"Kind of. He's Khabib's friend."

Ahmed nodded.

"He's here all the time."

You looked around the gym.

You hadn't noticed him yet.

Not that you were looking.

You weren't.

You were just wondering.

A few minutes later, Islam walked in from the other side of the gym.

He immediately noticed you.

And then he noticed Ahmed sitting with you.

For some reason, he stopped for half a second.

It wasn't obvious.

At least, not to you.

But Khabib noticed.

Because Khabib always noticed everything.

Islam didn't know why it bothered him.

It wasn't like anything was happening.

Ahmed was just talking to you.

You were just laughing.

That was all.

But something about seeing someone else making you laugh annoyed him more than he expected.

He ignored the feeling.

Or tried to.

He walked over to start training, pretending he wasn't paying attention.

But every now and then, his eyes went in your direction.

Ahmed was still talking.

Still making you smile.

And Islam didn't like that.

He didn't even know why.

Maybe because Ahmed was too confident.

Maybe because he was clearly flirting with you.

Or maybe because Islam had never really thought about you as anything other than Khabib's cousin until now.

And suddenly, someone else was trying to get your attention.

Khabib walked past him and noticed where he was looking.

"You okay?"

Islam looked at him.

"Yeah."

Khabib looked toward Ahmed, then back at him.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Okay."

Islam immediately knew.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You were thinking something."

Khabib laughed.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"Relax."

Islam shook his head and went back to training.

Meanwhile, you had no idea what was happening.

You weren't thinking about Islam.

You weren't thinking about Ahmed either.

You were just having a normal conversation.

When your uncle finally finished what he was doing, you stood up to leave.

Ahmed smiled.

"See you next time."

You nodded.

"Bye."

As you walked out, you briefly looked back into the gym.

Islam was training.

Focused.

Serious.

Just like always.

You didn't notice the way he looked up when you left.

You didn't think about Islam much after that.

Not because you disliked him or anything. He was nice, and he seemed like a good person, but you met new people all the time. Your family was huge, and there were always cousins, friends, neighbours, and people your relatives knew showing up somewhere.

Someone being new didn't always mean they were going to become important.

Sometimes they were just someone you met once.

And that was fine.

Your days were still mostly the same.

School.

Helping your mom.

Spending time with your cousins.

And dealing with Khabib whenever he decided he wanted to annoy you.

Which was often.

"You need to stop being lazy," he told you one afternoon.

You looked at him.

"I am not lazy."

"You are sitting down."

"So?"

"You've been sitting down for an hour."

"I was thinking."

He laughed.

"About what?"

"None of your business."

"Probably nothing."

You rolled your eyes.

"You are so irritating."

"You love me though."

You hated that he always used your own words against you.

A few weeks later, your family had another gathering.

Nothing unusual.

Your family was always finding reasons to get together. Someone visiting, someone's birthday, someone cooking too much food and inviting everyone over. It didn't really matter what the reason was because somehow everyone ended up there anyway.

The house was full like always.

Your cousins were everywhere, younger kids were running around, and the adults were sitting together talking about things you didn't always understand.

You were in the kitchen helping your aunt when you heard someone mention that Khabib had arrived with some of the guys from the gym.

You didn't really pay attention.

People from the gym came around sometimes. It wasn't anything new.

You continued helping until you were asked to bring some plates into the other room.

You were walking back when you almost bumped into someone.

"Sorry."

You looked up.

It was Islam.

You recognized him from the gym, but for a second your brain didn't connect that he was the same person because you weren't expecting to see him there.

"Oh. Hi."

He gave a small smile.

"Hi."

There was a short silence.

Not awkward exactly.

Just two people who didn't really know what to say.

"You came with Khabib?" you asked.

He nodded.

"Yeah."

You nodded back.

That was basically the whole conversation.

And honestly, you were fine with that.

You weren't someone who could talk to everyone immediately. You were used to your family because you had known them your whole life, but with new people you were usually quieter.

Islam seemed the same.

He wasn't the type of person who filled every silence.

A lot of people found that uncomfortable.

You didn't.

Before either of you could say anything else, someone called your name from the kitchen.

You looked back.

"I have to go."

He nodded.

"Okay."

And that was it.

You walked away and went back to helping your family.

Later that evening, you saw him a few more times.

Once when he was talking with Khabib.

Another time when he was helping move something.

You didn't really speak much.

Just small greetings.

A few words here and there.

Nothing important.

But you noticed that he was different from how you first saw him at the gym.

At the gym, he seemed serious. Almost impossible to distract.

At the gathering, he was still quiet, but he seemed more relaxed.

More like everyone else.

When the night started coming to an end and people were leaving, you were outside for a moment, getting some fresh air.

Khabib came out a few minutes later.

"You look tired."

"I am tired."

"You didn't even do anything."

"I helped."

He laughed.

"Helping your family is not training."

"Good. Because I don't want to train."

He shook his head.

"You will never understand."

"And you will never stop saying that."

He smiled.

Then he looked back toward the house.

"Islam is coming to the gym tomorrow."

You shrugged.

"Okay?"

Khabib looked at you.

"Nothing. Just saying."

You narrowed your eyes.

"I don't like when you say things like that."

He laughed.

"You always think I'm trying to say something."

"Because you are."

He didn't answer.

Which somehow annoyed you more.

But you forgot about it pretty quickly.

Because that was how life was.

People came and went.

You met someone one day and sometimes you never saw them again.

At that point, Islam was just someone from the gym.

Someone your family knew.

Someone you had talked to for a few minutes.

Nothing more.

You woke up on a quiet Saturday morning at 6:00am , you already knew you were going to the gym before your mom even said anything.

You could tell by the way she walked into your room.

"Get ready."

You looked at her from under your blanket.

"Why?"

"Because you're going with me to your uncle's gym."

"I don't want to."

She looked at you.

"You said that last time."

"And I meant it."

She ignored you.

"You have ten minutes."

You sighed.

That was the thing about your family. Nobody really asked. They just told you what was happening, and somehow you always ended up doing it.

Not that you minded that much.

You actually liked going to your uncle's gym sometimes. You just wouldn't admit that because Khabib already spent enough time there. You didn't need him acting like he had another reason to tell you what to do.

By the time you arrived, the gym was already full.

It was always like that.

There was always someone training, someone talking, someone laughing, someone telling another person to work harder.

The place wasn't anything special. The walls were old, the equipment wasn't new, and the floor had probably seen thousands of people train on it.

But everyone respected it.

Because it wasn't about how the gym looked.

It was about the people inside it.

You walked in and immediately saw Khabib.

Obviously.

You honestly thought he lived there sometimes.

He was training with some of the other guys, moving around like he wasn't even tired. You didn't understand how he did it. He could spend hours training and still have enough energy to annoy you afterwards.

You watched him for a few seconds.

It was weird seeing how different he was in the gym.

Outside, he was just your cousin.

The annoying one who stole food from your plate and laughed when you got angry.

But here, everyone listened to him.

Everyone respected him.

He was serious.

Focused.

Different.

You still didn't understand it.

You never understood how someone could enjoy being tired all the time.

You walked around the gym, mostly just looking at what everyone was doing.

Some people were wrestling.

Some were lifting weights.

Some were practicing techniques over and over again.

Then you heard something that made you stop.

The sound of gloves hitting pads.

You turned around.

There was someone boxing.

You didn't recognize him at first.

He was standing with one of the coaches, throwing punches while the coach held the pads up. He wasn't doing anything dramatic. He wasn't trying to look cool.

He was just training.

Jab.

Cross.

Hook.

Again.

And again.

He looked completely focused.

The thing that surprised you was that he wasn't talking.

Most of the boys your age couldn't stay quiet for more than a few minutes, but he didn't seem interested in anything except what he was doing.

You didn't know why, but you kept watching.

Maybe because it was different.

Maybe because you were curious.

Or maybe because you had never seen someone take something so seriously before.

"You know you're staring, right?"

You immediately turned around.

"Khabib."

He smiled.

"You got scared."

"I did not."

"You jumped."

"I was just surprised."

"Same thing."

You rolled your eyes.

"Why are you always annoying?"

"Because it's funny."

You ignored him and looked back toward the boxing area.

Of course he noticed.

"So who is that?"

"Who?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"The guy you're pretending not to watch."

"I'm not watching him."

"You are."

"I was just looking."

"Sure."

You crossed your arms.

"You're making everything weird."

Khabib laughed.

"That's what you always say."

Before you could answer, he called out.

"Islam!"

The boy stopped training and turned around.

He took his gloves off and walked over.

Now that he was closer, you realized he was around your age. Maybe a little older. His hair was messy from training, and he looked tired, but not in a bad way.

More like someone who was used to it.

"Khabib."

He nodded at him before looking at you.

"This is my cousin."

You gave a small smile.

"I'm Y/N."

"I know."

You looked confused.

"You know?"

He nodded.

"Family gatherings."

That made sense.

Your family was huge. Everyone knew everyone somehow.

"Oh."

There was a small silence.

Normally you hated awkward moments, but this one wasn't really awkward.

Islam seemed quiet.

And honestly, you were too.

Khabib looked between both of you.

Then he laughed.

"What?"

You and Islam both asked at the same time.

That made him laugh more.

"You two are the same."

You frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"You both just stand there and don't talk."

"I talk."

Khabib looked at you.

"When?"

You opened your mouth.

Then stopped.

You hated when he was right.

Islam looked down, trying not to smile.

You noticed.

And for some reason, you smiled too.

You didn't know much about him.

You didn't know that day would become important.

You didn't know he would become someone you would remember.

At the time, he was just your cousin's friend from the gym.

Just another person your family knew.

At least, that's what you thought.

This is the start of my fanfic, I’m writing this on wattpad so each one I post on here will be a chapter I’ve uploaded on wattpad!

Growing up in Dagestan was different from what most people imagined. Family wasn't just important, it was everything. Everyone was close, everyone knew everyone's business, and somehow every person in your family was connected.

Your cousins weren't just cousins. They were your brothers and sisters.

You grew up with people always around you. There was always someone visiting your house, your aunt making food, your cousins running around, or someone telling you that you had grown since the last time they saw you.

Even if they saw you yesterday.

That's just how your family was.

Khabib was twenty-one, and you were seventeen. Since you were the closest in age, your moms always acted like you two were automatically best friends.

"Go with Khabib."

"Ask Khabib."

"Why are you sitting here? Go spend time with your cousin."

You heard it all the time.

Sometimes you wondered if they forgot that you actually had other friends.

But honestly, you didn't hate it.

Khabib was annoying, but he was also one of the people you trusted the most. He was the type of person who would tease you all day, but the second something was wrong, he was the first one there.

When you were younger, you used to follow him around everywhere. You wanted to do everything he did, even when he told you that you were bothering him.

"You know you're annoying, right?" he'd say.

"You love me though," you'd reply.

He would just shake his head and laugh.

As you got older, things changed a little. You stopped following him around as much, and he became more focused on training. Everyone could see how serious he was about it.

While most people your age were worrying about normal teenage things, Khabib was always working.

Training.

Running.

Wrestling.

Improving.

It was like he never allowed himself to be lazy.

Your family was always proud of him. They knew how much he sacrificed, even before other people knew who he was. They saw the hard work behind everything.

You respected him for that.

But you also didn't really understand it.

To you, fighting was just fighting.

You didn't understand why someone would wake up early to run when they could still be sleeping. You didn't understand why someone would choose to be tired and sore every day.

You would always tell him he was crazy.

And he would always tell you that you didn't understand.

Maybe he was right.

Your life was much simpler.

School.

Family.

Friends.

Helping your mom.

Spending time with your cousins.

The same streets you had walked down your whole life.

The same people you had known forever.

You never thought anything would really change.

You thought you already knew what your future would look like.

You thought your life would always be this way.

But you were seventeen.

And you were about to learn that sometimes the people who enter your life unexpectedly can change everything.

part 1

You were Khabibs younger cousin…you grew up together since families in Dagestan are very close, Khabib was 21 and you were 17 making you the closest in age so your mom and aunt automatically thinks you have everything in common and are best buddies.

It was a Saturday morning you were outside eating breakfast in your garden when your mom told you she was hosting a get together for a few close families and that you should ‘make yourself pretty’ you nodded , finished your breakfast and headed into the freezing shower. Once you got out your hair smelt like honey and you let it air dry while you put a long cream coloured dress on, then put some makeup on…only a bit, before heading downstairs to help mom prepare some food and to clean up the house.

You were sweeping the living rooms floor “mom, who’s coming today?” You asked. “Just some family and friends. Oh! Khabib and the boys are coming and khabibs bringing some of his friends over. It’s about time you make some friends” she replied half joking half serious.

Your eyes widened…

Khabibs ‘friends’ were huge wrestlers whom you had nothing in common with you were an awkward 17 year old who struggled to talk to her cousins let alone his friends.

“Cool.” You replied nonchalantly as if your heart didn’t just sink to your ass

Everyone started arriving..your aunts, uncles, little cousins, older cousins, grandma, grandpa. Then Khabib, his mom and papa walked in greeting your mom and you. You hugged your aunt , smiled at your uncle before you even looked at Khabib he mussed up your hair “look at you.. you get bigger every time i see you” he joked and before calling his friends in.

You quickly tried to fix your hair, flatten your dress and look cool hoping no one noticed that before Umar walked in first leading them in 4 guys walked in barely fitting through the doorframe.

They all greeted your mom and Umar introduced them all to you. “This is my little cousin “y/n, she’s shy.” He chuckled and you blushed but acted cool about it. “Y/n, this is Murad, Shamil, Musa and Islam”

They all smiled at you and you smiled back “hello” you muttered

“You have a beautiful home y/n, Umar and khabib undersold you.” Musa said confidently

“Heh..uh yeah” you mumbled half shocked he said that, half not understanding fully if that was appropriate or not. You looked at khabib and Umar for their approval…they looked pissed.

Your mom broke the awkward tension thankfully “why don’t we all go outside, y/n spent a long time baking pastries and making fresh juices.” She suggested.

Everyone found a spot outside. You stuck with my aunt, she recently had a baby and you wanted to spent time with your new little cousin. “May i hold her?” You asked. “Of course my dear” she replied eagerly handing you the baby.

You took your little cousin and bounced her for a while before your mom told you to go talk to our guests and not to be rude.

You awkwardly strode over there..they were on a table drinking soda joking and laughing. “Hello…can i- sit?” You asked

‘Fuck why did i say it like that?!’ you said in your head.

“It’s your table” Umar said making it awkward. You took out a chair and sat next to one of the boys..he was very quiet and kinda awkward.

“So cousin, hows school? You making any friends?” Khabib asks while the whole table is silent

“Oh..yes. You know Diana, she’s my friend. And school is good. How’s the gym?”

“Ah yes of course. Gym is good, You know this always good. Islam is also your age 17 he is doing very good in gym, he train very hard and he is fathers favourite student.” He says

Islam looks very embarrassed and blushed a little.

“Oh. Really? Abdulmanap has a favourite, you must really be good!” You smiled at Islam

“I think he like me because i am quiet. I do not rebel i am determined” he didn’t look at you he stared at the table and fidgeted with his hands while khabib and the boys were smirking at him trying to talk to you.

“I’m sure you’re amazing..i had no idea you were my age, I would’ve said you were 20.” You replied feeling sorry for him, he was so damned awkward.

The boys all exchanged looks and laughed and muttered something to one another “stay here isu, we just need to get something” Umar said as they all stood up and Islam and you looked at them as if they had each had three heads.

“Don’t stress Islam, we will be a minute” Murad mocked, Shamil laughed and smacked islams back playfully as they all departed.

Islam was bright red and i was pink in the face…we both knew what they were doing. A few moments of awkward silence passed and you broke it.

“They’re not coming back for a while..they love to torment me.” You grumbled

“I know this, they tease me too. They are older, they think I am child.” Islam said finally looking at me.

“Yes, i see. You look bigger than Umar and Musa, i bet you are stronger too” you smiled trying to warm him up

He broke eye contact and played with his sweaty fingers again “i am not strongest, i will never be strongest i can only improve. Every mistake is a lesson.” He replied steadily

“Your humble, that’s good. Khabib is humble too. I guess that’s why abdulmanap likes you so much” you said

“I learn from them, he is a very good man. Very good” Islam said, the corners of his mouth raising ever so slightly. “You, you are kind. You have no siblings?” He asked me softly

My gaze softened “i am only child. My mother cannot conceive anymore” you said as nonchalantly as possible.

“Oh. I- sorry. I did not know” Islam replied obliviously mouthing curses to himself

You smiled softly at him and moved my face closer so he would look “don’t- you don’t have to feel bad. Everything has a reason.” You said

He looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes scanning your face , his lips parting ever so slightly, his gaze softening.

You stared back, you stared at his youthful face. How the sun defined his features and highlighted his small scratches and bruises from training, how his manly features slowly came in. And how his lips-

Fuck.

His eyes moved down to your chest. You held your breath watching how the heat rose up his neck, how his breathing and body language changed. Then you watched his face when he realised what he was doing. How he silently cursed himself, how his cheeks flushed and how he apologised with his hands before the words left his mouth.

We both looked at each others faces feeling the tension. You shifted in your seat your heart pounding, you could hear his mind racing and yourself too. The look in his eyes, so hesitant and nervous but also so eager and excited.

You both opened your mouths and went to speak at the same time. You both got slightly embarrassed so you smiled and giggled, Islam smiled back fully his teeth showing and he started laughing too.

His smile was contagious and his laugh made you laugh harder.

END OF PART ONE!

IF U WANT PART 2 LMK!!