Part 8 islam x reader
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.
Or maybe it was because, for the first time in days, you hadn't thought about Ahmed at all.
