Project Heart(h) ✓

Chapter Eighteen

"Are you stoned?"

Junak smiled. Instead of answering, he bent down to open a drawer underneath the desk. From there he pulled out two joints, one of which was half burnt. "Want one?"

It was either that or leaving. And Dikhou did not want to leave.

He took the unburnt joint and settled on the edge of the bed. Junak first lit his own joint, then stepped closer to light Dikhou's.

Dikhou took a puff, cringing at the thick smoke travelling down his throat. It was strong stuff, and the joint was rolled really well. Clearly by an expert hand. "Where did you even get these?"

"Jatin got them for me."

That did not sit well with Dikhou. "Next time you want illegal stuff, ask me. I don't want Jatin to get into trouble."

Junak blinked at him, smiling in a way that scared him. Or maybe the trembling of his heart had nothing to do with fear. "Okay," Junak said, then went to the laptop and pressed a key. Music flooded in immediately.

Oh, I feel like I'm running
Oh, I feel like I'm running in my...

Junak stepped away from the bed and began moving to the music. He was bobbing his head and mouthing the lyrics. Dikhou couldn't help but watch the way he held the joint between two delicate fingers – nails, that beautiful shade of orange – and the way he put it to his lips, closing his eyes to take a drag.

It took Dikhou all his strength to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.

That Junak was lazily dancing to the song was certainly not helping.

The right decision would've been to leave. But then Junak looked over, caught Dikhou staring, and instead of saying anything, he smiled devilishly and continued to move his hips to the music, singing: Boots on the ground, I'm running boots on the ground. I'm smoking way too loud, I'm feeling good high now...

Dikhou leaned back comfortably on one hand, the joint held in the other, and watched him.

Fifteen minutes later, Dikhou found himself sitting at the desk. There was an old typewriter there, discoloured and dusty. He was randomly hitting the keys, from A to Z. There was no paper behind the roller but it did not bother him.

Junak was lying on the bed, limbs spread out around him. The music had softened to some slow song, as if it was high too.

They did not talk. The typewriter kept clacking. Dikhou pressed G, then H, then forgot where he was so he started afresh on A. He frowned at the key and said, "I think I'm high."

Junak giggled. "Tell me a fun fact."

Dikhou slouched on the desk, resting his chin on his bicep. His other hand was repeatedly pressing J. "What?"

"Fun. Fact."

Dikhou racked his brain. It was all muddied. "Lightening is hotter than the sun."

"Figures. Lightening is like, really hot," Junak said dreamily.

Dikhou frowned. He sat upright and turned on his chair so he was facing the other man. Junak was twirling a muffler over his face. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Why are you high?" Dikhou straddled the chair and placed his chin on the backrest.

"Why are you high?"

"Because you handed me a joint."

Apparently, Junak found this hilarious. He giggled, then suddenly sat up and patted the bed next to him.