Project Heart(h) ✓

Chapter Thirty Eight

They did not have sex after the outburst it caused the last, and only time, Junak had asked him about it. He kept hoping Dikhou would bring it up again but he never did. Junak told himself it was probably better this way. He already felt like he had lost everything to Dikhou and, with each passing minute, the ache in his chest simply kept worsening so maybe it was better to not throw sex into it.

Despite it, whenever Junak woke up alone on a bed smelling of Dikhou, he let himself imagine what it would be like; Dikhou was already so passionate with his kisses and touches.

But he could not ask again. Not without putting undue pressure on Dikhou. If Dikhou wanted it, they would have already done it. The thought of the rejection stung, which was slightly surprising in itself because all Junak could feel at this point was the pain and sorrow suffocating the entirety of him.

Puhor being there acted as a form of tether that rooted Junak to reality. Puhor did not bring up the topic of their eventual departure - no one did - but he would come and start a random conversation with Junak when Dikhou was not around and it worked as a good distraction.

That was how Junak lived the best yet most terrible week of his life - with distractions and Dikhou.

***

The dread fully cemented into him on the last day. It left him helpless, angry and paralysed.

He woke up to a cold bed as usual. He laid a hand on the empty space to his left, grabbed the pillow and brought it close to his chest. He laid there then, breathing in and out.

He did not cry. The familiar numbness draped over his skin.

He took a bath in that cold water he had grown accustomed to and sat on the porch to have the morning tea with his grandfather and Puhor. They smiled at him like it was another ordinary day and struck up a conversation on how cold this year's winter had been. Junak listened, living each moment to its fullest. He stared at his grandfather, the man who had turned from stranger to family, from someone out of a history book to a mortal man capable of making mistakes. Junak was going to miss him. A lot. A dreadful voice in his head pointed out his grandfather's papery frame and told him how he might never see this man again after he left.

The agony of it forced Junak to walk away and call Niribili. She and Banhi were staying at his house in Guwahati, waiting for him to join them, after which they would leave for America together.

"Good morning," came her familiar sleep-laced voice.

Junak had no idea what he was doing.

"You okay?"

"I... no."

Niribili's breaths filled the line. "I'm sorry, Jun."

He blurted it before he lost all his courage, "Can I stay here for a few more days?"

There was a sigh, heavy and tired but not surprised. "Jun..." She did not finish her sentence. She did not need to.

He was being selfish. And putting his friend in a tight spot. They might have finished shooting but a lot of work still remained - editing and adding the sound effects were the most important parts of compiling a film together. He had been trying to do as much as he could but he needed WiFi and the three needed to be together to finally put it all in place.

"Classes start in three weeks, Jun," Niribili said. "And the Jury submissions end in a month."

He swallowed but the lump in his throat stayed. "You're right. I'll uh... I'll see you tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, Jun."

Junak cut the call and dropped his phone in his pocket.

He had twenty four hours left to bid his farewells.