Heal the Heart

11.

I was banned from the cafe.

It was a good thing in its own way. There was no excuse present in the world now that would let me voluntarily walk in there. Seeing Christopher Beckett again wasn't high on my priority list. More like meeting him again wasn't high on my priority list. I still saw him. From across the street, behind the front desk. He visited the cafe from time to time whenever he was in town. I would stare at his distinct red hair as he looked over his shoulder and to his right. He would do that multiple times in the short hour, then his entire body reflected the sigh he'd release before packing up and heading out.

Are you searching for me?

I remembered the first time Arya told me he wanted to see other people. It struck me like a lightning bolt. We were in his bedroom. A sultry Hyderabad evening hung around us, wrapping the entire city in a thick, stuffy, unrequited blanket. I was sprawled on his hefty bean bag, playing with the Switch he had hidden in his room while he fidgeted with himself in the other corner.

He had blurted it out. I think we should see other people. Then he cringed. His entire face twisting as though he had just sucked on the sourest lemon of the bunch.

I shot up from the beanbag. The Switch clattered across the floor. It felt like my heart had gone clattering across the floor. When I'd just gotten my diagnosis, the doctor had asked me, "Didn't you ever suspect something was wrong before today?" I'd said at the time that no, nothing other than slight chest pain from overexertion at times.

Lie.

The first time I knew something was wrong was when Arya said what he did. My heart had twisted in on itself, squeezing so hard, like a noose had been tied around it. In a matter of seconds, it felt like I had just completed five full marathons.

I didn't register when he had me wrapped in his arms. His forehead digging into mine. "Not like that. Jesus fuck, my brain functions with a lag, I swear."

"You want to break up?" I had whispered.

"What? No. Never. You're not getting rid of me that easy." He nuzzled his cheek with mine, and I felt him smile against my skin. "You're in this with me for life. Till we're eighty and wheelchair racing in an old age home for smashed peas."

I laughed and shoved him, my hand subconsciously reaching for my chest. "I won't last till eighty if you keep dropping shit like that."

He dragged me back into him. "We are young, though."

"Really? You keep complaining about your back hurting, so..."

"You don't want to explore?" he asked, and I saw the usual confidence leaving him in waves. He wouldn't meet my eyes. His teeth pierced into his bottom lip. Hard enough for me to see the skin tearing rip by rip.

The thing about Arya was, though he was a six-foot-two, lanky giant, he had an aura about him that made the other person want to protect him. To shield him from all the disasters of the world and give in to his every demand. I hated seeing him in any form other than smiling. Even if most of his smiles were forced, it didn't matter. It meant he was thriving. Beaten and broken, but he was living. It took a lot to bring him down. His parents had found a way. I wouldn't join to help them find more.

So, I glued every crack in my heart and asked him, "Is that what you want?"

Then he smiled. The smile that ate his big owl eyes up and stretched his lips so wide, it wasn't supposed to be possible. "Right now, I want you."

"Not just for now."

"You're it for me, Neil."

"Tell me."