after the funeral, naim finds ryan outside and wordlessly surrenders, seeking the warmth of his lips, the way ryan’s hands frame his neck and jaw, the easy press of their bodies. when they kiss, there’s a desperation in it. it’s two bodies reassuring one another—i’m here with you, i forgive you, it’s going to be okay. they clutch at each other, both of them on the edge of tears, before the entity wraps it’s hand around naim’s throat. at the screen door, ryan promises naim that he’ll stay outside until arlene returns. he leans his head against the wire and raises his hand to touch naim’s through it, pressing together as much as possible through the barrier between them. even though naim knows it’s not really ryan, he leans in and savours it anyway.
what ryan’s entity gives naim is comfort. it’s reassurance, and an acknowledgment—i know how you’re feeling and it’s okay. i know that you’re upset and i’m here for you. it’s all of the unwavering support that he can’t find anywhere else, not even from his own mother. it’s the promise that this can be something which feels good, which makes him happy, which fulfills him and restores him. it’s the proof that a life with ryan is one that can bring him safety and comfort even in the most difficult circumstances. the entity’s betrayal in these moments is horrific because it’s violatory. it strikes when naim has surrendered completely, his guard absolutely lowered and his heart bared. naim is a boy who has spent his entire life fearing this part of himself. the entity coaxes him to bare it and then punishes him for it.
titsay
vaporwave
