At first, everything was going fine.
Dikhou's sister Jiri and her husband Anurag were nice people. Amiable. Cheerful. Good conversationalists. Dikhou did not have a lot of things in common with his brother-in-law – he was a manager at a local firm – but Anurag really tried to engage with Dikhou about his studies or cricket. And with Jiri around to talk and talk and talk, the air around them was never uncomfortable.
Except now.
They were sitting at the dining table, enjoying a delicious fish curry that Jiri knew was Dikhou's favourite. And for the first couple of minutes, Dikhou was having a great time – Jiri asked him for updates on the people in the village and Dikhou was dutifully filling her in on all the gossip he knew.
But then Anurag said, "So you're here to record some song?" and Dikhou felt his throat constricting.
"Y-Yeah. A friend is recording a song and asked me to help with the music."
"Friend?" Jiri's face twisted into an expression of undisguised displeasure. "You mean Baruah koka's grandson?"
Dikhou gulped. "Junak, yes."
"Who's Baruah koka's grandson?" Anurag asked. "Have I met him?"
"No," Dikhou replied, while Jiri said, "He's the son of the man due to whom we lost most of our property."
Dikhou sucked in a deep breath and braced himself for what was coming.
"Wait, really?" Anurag said, with as much distaste as Jiri held and it was obvious why: no land for Jiri meant no land for him. "You're friends with him?" The accusation was crystal clear in his voice.
Dikhou squirmed in his seat. "Yes."
"Why?" Anurag asked incredulously.
Dikhou stared down at his plate, his appetite burning into flames. "He's a good guy."
Anurag's mouth fell open as he turned to his wife. Jiri shook her head and said, "Dikhou thinks everyone's a good person. It's his fatal flaw."
Dikhou gritted his teeth to bite back a reply. It was not that he thought everyone was a saint, it was that he was amiable towards everyone. He had to be, to stay out of trouble. To protect himself. To keep his secret safe. Jiri would never understand. She was her mother's daughter: bold to the point of being blindly and stupidly stubborn.
"Listen, Dikhou, I know you don't remember this because you were too young back then." Jiri had the elder sister voice on, the one that said look I'm trying to be accommodative of your views but at the end of the day I'm right. "But I remember. And trust me, it was awful to lose my father and half of our property at the same time. We lived on scraps for months!"
Dikhou was not a mindless child then. He remembered. He remembered the broken look on his mother's face, the anger in Jiri's heart and the tears in Kopili's eyes. He remembered because he was there, holding their hands through it all, even though everyone considered him too young to understand anything.
He did understand everything. His father had ingrained in him the idea that he would have to grow up to be a strong man to protect his mother and sisters. On most days, he felt like he was the weakest of them all, but that did not mean he did not carry the burden of his responsibility. He carried that weight everywhere with him; even on days when he could not hide his yearnings anymore, when all he wanted to do was just run away, he stayed. He stayed because of his duties towards his family.
So no, he was not some dumb younger brother.
He looked up at his sister. "If I was a child back then, so was Junak. Younger than me, in fact. So what happened couldn't possibly have been his fault, could it?"
Jiri was momentarily stunned to silence at his retaliation. Then she scoffed and said, "Wow. You sound just like Deuta. You know what he said when he lost the land. Ma was furious, right, so Deuta said – business is risky, it wasn't Niyor's fault."
Dikhou held his sister's gaze. "That sounds right to me."
The outrage it created was exactly as he had expected. Anurag's eyes widened as if someone had slapped him. Jiri was shaking with rage, her jaw clenched and hands fisted. "Are you serious right now?" Her voice was seething. "What, you're best friends with that guy now so you'll pick him over family?"
That was a low blow. And it made Dikhou angry. After everything he had done, how could she accuse him of something like this?! "I'm not picking sides," he said, as calmly as he could. "I'm just saying. Niyor khura paid back the money, did he not?"
"The money is beside the point!" Jiri cried, rising to her feet.
"Then what is the point?" Dikhou said with equal exasperation but without raising his voice. He never raised his voice.
"The point is, Deuta picked his friend over his family. And then he was gone, leaving us to fend for ourselves. And now you're doing the exact same thing!"
Dikhou could not believe what he was hearing. He got to his feet, slowly. "You're blaming Deuta for dying?"
Jiri threw her hands. "That's what you take away from all this!?"
"Because I can't believe you said it."
Jiri opened her mouth, definitely to shout, when Anurag went to her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, calm down now. Let's just enjoy a peaceful dinner, okay? We can talk about this later."
Dikhou stared at the way Anurag could stand so close to Jiri and touch her in front of people and it provided the final spark to his rage. "No," he said. "I'm leaving."
Jiri's eyes widened. "Where are you going?"
Dikhou did not answer. He washed his hands, then went to the guest room. He hadn't unpacked anything so he slung the dhool over his shoulder, picked up his bag and walked out towards the door.
Jiri was behind him. "Where are you going? It's late."
"I'll find somewhere to stay, don't worry."
"You can't just walk out because we had an argument – Dikhou, stop!" She grabbed his arm, forcing him to a halt. They were almost at the front door.
"I'm sorry I made you mad," he said, honestly. "But I also know I'm right."
Jiri sighed. She suddenly looked tired. "Don't tell me you're going to stay with your new best friend."
Dikhou said nothing.
Something flashed in Jiri's eyes, something acutely close to fear, and her mouth fell open. She let go of him and took a step back. "That night on the phone," her voice was low, almost a whisper, "you said you were talking to some guy. Was it... is it him?"
Dikhou remained silent.
Jiri took a shaky breath. "Are you..." She did not finish her question. He knew she did not have the courage to utter those words. But it was clear in her eyes, her query as well as her plea. She wanted him to deny it, assure her it wasn't what she was thinking.
He did not. He held her gaze in silent confirmation, in an unspoken dare. It did not matter if she knew because she was more terrified of it than he was. She wouldn't tell anyone.
Dikhou left her standing there, and walked out of the house.
His hands shook as he pulled out his phone.
Junak answered the call after a single ring, with a cheerful, "Hey!"
"Jun," Dikhou's voice cracked despite trying his best to keep it steady. "Tell me your address."
***
Dikhou was sure he looked like a wreck because the moment Junak opened the door, the concern was so stark clear on his features, it made Dikhou guilty for causing it.
He wordlessly side-stepped as Dikhou walked in, then closed the door behind them. "What hap–"
Dikhou lunged at Junak, caught his face with both hands and kissed him without an ounce of reservation and with everything he had.
Junak gasped, stumbling back against the door. But then he wrapped his arms around Dikhou's waist and kissed him back with equal fervour.
If Dikhou could spend the rest of his life kissing Junak, he would have. He felt Junak's fingers clench around his hoodie and pulling him impossibly closer.
When Dikhou broke the kiss, only an inch, he was breathing heavily and there was a fire in his stomach. "Can I stay with you?"
"Yes," Junak panted. "Yes." He leaned in and kissed Dikhou again.
They kissed for a long time after that, there in the dimly lit drawing room, pressed against the front door. Being so close to Junak made Dikhou forget all about his family, his shame, his guilt and his responsibilities. The future seemed to melt away, the world fading into grey, and nothing else mattered than the beautiful man who, for whatever impossible reason, wanted him back.
They kissed till their lips felt sore. They kissed till Junak put a hand over Dikhou's mouth, stopping him, or maybe himself. "We need to..." He broke off, unable to come up with words. His face was flushed and his lips were wet. He rested his forehead on Dikhou's shoulder as the two stood there, panting.
Once they caught their breaths, Junak stepped out of Dikhou's hold, smiling. "Come on in," he said, picking up the dhool Dikhou had carelessly dropped.
Dikhou's limbs were still shaky as he picked up his bag and followed Junak into the house.
It was a large house – spacious rooms, big windows and well-decorated, probably by some designer. Most of the house was dark; the living room and the corridor Junak was leading him through were dimly lit while the rest was bathed in darkness. Their footsteps echoed and Dikhou noticed dust covering the tops of the shelves.
The house was also unnaturally cold.
No wonder Junak was scared of ghosts.
The room Junak led him to was brightly lit. Junak kept the dhool on a table and awkwardly said, "Make yourself at home."
Dikhou knew it was Junak's room from the mess. There was a double bed in the middle of the room; it was bestrewn with blankets, atop which sat two large pizza boxes – one empty, the other with two slices left. Junak's laptop and camera were also thrown next to them.
The table was relatively neat with only an open backpack kept on top of it. The single couch and two beanbags in the room were littered with clothes.
There was no other furniture, except a large-screen TV mounted on the wall in front of the bed. There was a bookshelf on one side, containing several old books – mostly children's books – all covered in dust. There were no pictures or posters or... anything personal in the room.
"Uh... that's the bathroom if you wanna go freshen up," Junak pointed at a door on the left, "and um... I have one-third of a pizza left if you want."
Dikhou eyed the pizza, with all the cheese and sauce. "Was that your dinner?"
"It's cute you sound so surprised because sometimes I have pizza even for breakfast. Sometimes I have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's my staple." Junak grinned like it was some achievement.
Dikhou's chest felt light. "That's not healthy."
"Life's not healthy," Junak countered. It made no sense but Dikhou let him have it. "Did you have dinner, by the way? I'll order food if you haven't. Healthier food." He made a face.
"No, I ate," Dikhou lied. "Thanks."
Junak did not ask him any more questions and for that Dikhou was glad. He was still feeling a little faint, a little crazed and a little turned on so he walked into the bathroom and dunked his head in cold water. Or at least, that was the plan, but the water flowing out of the taps was not cold and he nearly scalded himself. "Right. Urban people." Rich urban people, he thought eyeing the ridiculously well-designed bathroom, but he pushed out the thought and freshened up and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.
When he walked out of the bathroom, he found Junak trying to clear some of the mess on his bed. It was insane why and how Dikhou found that adorable.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" Junak asked, dumping the pizza boxes on the table.
"Uh..."
Junak looked at him, head tilted to the side. "Or... talk?"
Dikhou bit the inside of his lip instead of answering.
Junak climbed up on the bed and patted the empty space next to him. For a moment, Dikhou did not move.
"Come on!"
Hesitantly, with his stomach in knots and jitters, Dikhou obeyed.
The moment Dikhou got under the blanket and sat against the pillows, Junak scooted closer. He rested his head on Dikhou's chest and threw an arm over his stomach. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah..." Dikhou felt dizzy with the way his heart sped up. It was something he had never done before. Back when he was with Gagori, all they did was hold hands and occasionally kiss. But this. This was breathtaking. His senses were flooded with Junak's scent, his warmth and the soft weight of him as he lay partially on top of him. Dikhou was acutely aware of Junak's breaths, the way his fingers were lightly curled around Dikhou's shirt and the way his hair tickled Dikhou's chin.
It felt so good, so dreamlike, Dikhou could've cried.
He raised a hand and ran his fingers through Junak's hair.
Junak let out a soft sigh and said, "What happened at your sister's?"
Everything about that moment was so gentle, Dikhou almost said it. Everything. All the things clawing at his heart. But then he remembered how upset Junak got every time his father's name would come up and Dikhou knew he could not do it. He could not tell Junak the truth and ruin his mood. Not when this moment was so perfect.
"Just a fight. Nothing serious. We'll get over it."
Junak looked up, his chin pressing into Dikhou's chest. "I'm here if you want to talk about it."
Dikhou was sure Junak could hear how fast his heart was beating. "I know. Thank you. But really, it's nothing."
Junak did not seem convinced but he did not press for more. "Okay," he said and went to comfortably lie atop Dikhou.
The house next door had a news channel tuned into and there was the constant screech of cars coming from outside. A dog was barking somewhere. A pressure cooker whistled.
The large house they were in was dead silent. "Jun."
"Hmm?"
"Where are your parents?"
Dikhou felt Junak stiffen. "I don't know." He shifted slightly to bury his nose on Dikhou's chest. His lips brushed against Dikhou, almost like a kiss, as he said, "Ma is a pilot so I can never keep track of where she is. Papa is probably in Delhi, it's where most of his business is."
Dikhou placed his free arm on top of Junak's and interlaced their fingers. His other hand was stroking Junak's hair. "And your brother?"
"He's doing MBA. Somewhere." Junak shifted to face Dikhou again. He was smiling. "First time in my life, I'm glad they're not home."
Dikhou did not know what to say to that so he did not say anything.
Junak raised a hand and touched Dikhou's cheek. "You're sad," he whispered.
Dikhou leaned into his touch and closed his eyes. "Not anymore."
He heard Junak chuckle. A moment later, he felt Junak's lips pressing against his, kissing him deeply but gently.
Dikhou held Junak against him long after they broke apart. He kept his eyes closed, content to feel Junak's warm, even breaths against his lips. "Jun."
Junak's soft fingers were knotted in his hair. "Hmm?"
"Do you ever feel lonely?"
Junak touched their foreheads together. His lips brushed against Dikhou's as he said, "All the time."
For reasons Dikhou did not understand, tears pooled behind his closed eyes on hearing those words. He did not know what to do with it or what to make of it. His heart swelled with warmth, but it also ached. So much.
Junak kissed him softly on the cheek, trailing downwards to kiss along his jaw. One of his palms was resting over Dikhou's ear, playing with his curls. "Dikhou."
"Hmm?"
"You know that feeling of sitting near a fire... on a winter evening?"
Dikhou did not say anything, giving in the sensations of having Junak so close to him. He involuntarily pulled him even closer.
"You feel like that," Junak whispered.
Dikhou might've chucked. Or sobbed. He wasn't sure. "Jun."
"Hmm?"
"You know that feeling when you look up at the moon... and get struck by the wild realisation that you are alive... and how incredibly grateful you are to be alive."
Junak did not answer.
Dikhou opened his eyes to find Junak staring at him with moist eyes and parted lips. He looked so soft, so honest and so incredibly vulnerable, it near about wrecked Dikhou's heart. He leaned forward and kissed Junak on the forehead. Then he whispered, "You... feel like that."
~~~
A/n
Ugh I feel so touch starved *sigh*.
Views on the story so far?! *facepalm*