As Niribili called cut on the final scene, grief churned in the pits of Junak's stomach, turning his body to stone. Banhi cheered and hugged her girlfriend, Junak stood and watched. Niribili thanked Prapti and Megha who took celebratory selfies, Junak stood and watched. Banhi handed some cash to Puhor and asked him to buy drinks for everyone, Junak stood and watched.
"All right, let's pack it up," Niribili said.
He moved mindlessly to pack their gear. Banhi smiled at him and said something like WE DID IT! He returned a forced smile and uttered a forced cheer and then went to dismantle his camera from the tripod.
It was nearing dusk; the sun was a bright red at the horizon, bathing the sky in blues, pinks and purples. Junak's grandfather's house, which was dulled with solitude when they first arrived, was now lit up with chatter and laughter. Someone instructed what booze they wanted. Someone else complained about not getting the right picture. Someone was saying they want pork for dinner.
Dikhou was sitting on a sofa in the drawing room, smiling at something Prapti was saying. Junak marched up to him, grabbed his wrist and hauled him to his feet.
"What's wrong?"
Instead of answering, he led Dikhou out of the room and up the stairs. Thankfully, no one called after them.
"Jun?"
Junak dropped Dikhou's hand when they walked into his room. He kept his camera on the table, then closed the door and latched it shut. The voices coming from downstairs muffled, leaving him at the mercy of his too-loud breathing and the damned voices in his head warning him of the inevitable.
"What's wrong, Jun?"
And Dikhou. For now, he was still here.
Junak threw himself at him, clasping his hands into his curls and kissing him. He did not realise he was crying until Dikhou pulled away and caught his face in both hands. "What's wrong, deha?" he said, wiping Junak's cheeks with his thumbs.
Junak could not believe Dikhou was even asking him that. Was it not obvious? Was it not eating away at him the way it was at Junak?
Junak freed himself from Dikhou's hold and wiped his face on his sleeve. He did not want to cry. Not like this. Now now. Not when he was running out of time.
He rose on his tiptoes to rest his forehead against Dikhou's. Even when he closed his eyes, that man was all he could see. "I'm staying another week."
Junak's sweater was bundled in Dikhou's fists. "I... thank you," he whispered.
Junak barely managed to blink back tears. He went to the bed and pulled Dikhou down on top of him. For no reason, it reminded Junak of a time, weeks ago, when this jerk had scared him in the middle of the night and they had both fallen on the grass. That annoying man was still the same Dikhou, yet in many amazing ways, he wasn't. For starters, this Dikhou did not hesitate to kiss him senseless, something that Junak had hopelessly hoped for in that ridiculous moment of being pinned down to a ground damp with dew.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Dikhou breathed, pushing himself up on his elbows. "This feels weird because like... I can taste tears."
Junak arched up to wipe his face on Dikhou's shirt, right over his heart. "There. All good."
Dikhou was looking at him with such fondness, Junak could've cried all over again. Dikhou inhaled through his mouth as if to say something, but then changed his mind and bent down to kiss him instead.
Junak had never tasted anything better than Dikhou's lips on his. It was soft and rough and kind and honest and oh, so desperate. Teeth grazed at his lower lip just as Dikhou's fingers dug into his skin at his flank. Above him, Dikhou was hot and hard and... layered in too many clothes.
Junak's fingers fumbled uselessly with his shirt but Dikhou got the hint. He rose to his knees and took off his shirt. Junak soaked in the sight, feeling dizzy with desire. And with it lingered the harrowing knowledge that he might never see this man again after a few days.
Dikhou gave him his signature mischievous smile, showing off his dimple. "Your turn, deha."
God!
Junak shivered in the cold as he wriggled out of his sweater. He reached out to pull Dikhou close but the latter refused to budge. He just sat there, knees on either side of Junak's thighs, and stared down at him.
Junak's mouth went dry. "W-What?"
Dikhou's lips quivered as they stretched out in an unsteady smile. "Nothing." His voice shook but, before Junak could ask, they were kissing again. And Junak lost himself to the heated tangle of their limbs, to Dikhou's intoxicating scent, to his bare, searing skin, to his endless kisses and the way he moaned Junak's name in revered whispers.
Junak led his mouth to the crook of Dikhou's neck and sucked on his skin, suddenly hit by an overwhelming desire to leave his mark on him.
And to do more.
"Dikhou."
"Hmm?"
Junak's heart was hammering in his chest and every inch of his body was buzzing with need. He opened his mouth to answer but a sudden, irrational fear of rejection gripped him.
Dikhou shifted to look at him. "What is it?" He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling against Junak's.
Junak traced a finger along Dikhou's collarbone and focused his eyes there, away from his face. "Do you..." He felt nauseated. "Do you want to have sex?"
Dikhou tensed around him.
"It's just a thought," Junak rambled, unable to hide the panic. "I - you - you don't have to say yes. I was just - I'm sorry, I-"
"No," Dikhou gasped. "I mean, not no. I mean..." He took a long, shaky breath and hid his face on the pillow beside Junak so that his lips brushed against Junak's neck as he said, "Yes."
A fresh wave of want coursed down Junak's stomach.
"But... I..." Dikhou panted.
Junak touched a hand to Dikhou's head, his curls soft between his fingers. "No pressure, love. You can say no."
"I know. I... I know." He held Junak and simply breathed him in for a few moments. Then, in a voice that was barely audible, he said, "I want to. I just... I don't really know what to... do."
Junak knew he shouldn't be laughing but he was unable to bite back his smile. He caught a fistful of Dikhou's hair and yanked, forcing Dikhou to face him. "You're cute when you're flustered."
"Shut up!" Dikhou said miserably.
Junak beamed. "It's not really a problem, you know? I can... tell you. Or show you." It was difficult to keep talking with how profusely he was blushing. "Whatever."
Dikhou looked away and nodded shyly.
"But it's completely okay if you don't want to. I mean-"
"God, Jun, can we please stop talking about it?" Dikhou cried, and Junak found it absolutely, ridiculously endearing to see his prankster turned into an embarrassed mess in front of him.
"Okay, sorry." He bit his lip but he was too giddy to not grin like a maniac. "You will have to get up and get the condoms and lube from my bag though."
"Your bag?" Dikhou echoed, leaving the rest of his question unasked: do you always just happen to carry them around?
"What? I was hoping we'd at least have angry sex or something." Junak was trying to lighten the mood but Dikhou still looked uncomfortable so he added, "If it's any consolation, I only have theoretical knowledge. But between the two of us, I'm sure we'll figure it out."
Dikhou's eyes widened. "You haven't...?"
"Not with a guy, no."
Junak thought Dikhou would've liked that bit of information but, for whatever reason, his expression darkened. "Your ex?"
Junak's heart plummeted. "Uh..."
Like being reminded of Sasha was not bad enough, Dikhou gritted his teeth and rolled off of Junak.
Junak gaped after him. "What - Dikhou, seriously?"
For some completely insane reason, Dikhou lay facing the ceiling, his hands folded over his chest and brows pulled into a scowl.
Junak smirked as he inched closer and propped his chin on Dikhou's bicep. "Are you... jealous?"
His scowl hardened. "I'm not jealous."
"Looks like you are."
"I'm not!"
"Do you realise how incredibly silly you're being right now?"
Dikhou pursed his lips. "I just - I don't like her."
"Aww."
"No, don't aw at that! I'm serious. I hate how she treated you and how you let her."
That pricked a little. "Come on, it wasn't too bad. I mean, that's how people are. You are the one who's too nice to me."
That was... probably not the best thing to say because Dikhou pushed away from Junak and glowered at him. "No, I'm not," he hissed. "I'm really not, Jun. You have your bars set too low."
It was Junak's turn to frown. "Why are you getting mad? We were like... horny teenagers back then; the sex wasn't... life-changing or something."
"It's not about that!"
Junak sat up to return Dikhou a scowl of his own. The cold air brushed against him, causing goosebumps to erupt along his arms. "It sure sounds like it is about that."
"It's not!" Dikhou sat up beside him. "I mean, it is but it's also not. I..."
Junak wasn't sure where the sudden anger came from but it did and it possessed him to climb out of the bed. "Well, let me know once you figure it out. Till then, I'll be downstairs."
"Four years, Jun," Dikhou snapped. "That's a long time."
Junak froze with his back to Dikhou. "It's in the past. I cannot change that."
A minute trickled by in silence. The world was dark outside. The white light inside the room was harsh and unflinching. People laughed downstairs. The second hand on the wall clock ticked on ruthlessly. The breath Dikhou gulped in was too loud between them. "Will you do better in the future?"
Junak nearly lost his footing with the sheer weight of his heart shattering. He fisted his hands at his side and said, "W-What do you mean?"
Dikhou's voice trembled. "You know what I mean."
"W-Why..." The burn of tears was back, suffocating Junak. "Why are you saying all this?"
"Because I spoke to Niribili and she told me you have a habit of undermining yourself. And you said so yourself, didn't you? I..." He sniffed. "I want you to be with someone who treats you well."
Tears trickled down Junak's cheeks. He whipped around to face Dikhou and shouted, "Why are you saying all this?"
Dikhou opened his mouth but did not say anything. The resignation on his face, however, was answer enough.
Junak's nails dug into his palms. "I hate you so much!"
Dikhou flinched but stayed silent as Junak grabbed his sweater and marched towards the door. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he tried to open the latch.
All the while, he felt Dikhou's gaze on his back.
It was a cruel play of fate, how their roles seemed to have reversed.
The realisation of his actions dawned on him. He let his hands fall limp over the door handle and pressed his forehead against the wooden surface. "I didn't mean that," he whispered. "I'm sorry, I - I don't mean that."
Everything was such a mess.
"I don't know what to do." He hit his head on the door. "I don't know what I'm doing!" He hugged himself and closed his eyes. "I just want to be with you."
A pair of arms wound around his stomach and Dikhou pulled him close to his chest.
Junak leaned into him, eyes still closed. "Why does this have to be so hard?" he sobbed.
Dikhou pressed a kiss to Junak's temple and dropped his chin on his shoulder. "Tell me about it," he whispered.
"W-What?"
"About what it would have been like if we were somewhere else."
"I don't know," Junak lied. Every night he spent sleepless hours imagining intricate scenarios of what they would be doing if had Dikhou agreed to go with him or if this place wasn't homophobic.
Dikhou tugged him closer to his chest. "Indulge me."
There was no possible way Junak could say no to that. He slid his arms over Dikhou's and joined their fingers together. "I would hold your hand while walking on the streets."
Dikhou smiled against his neck.
"We'd go on dates."
"Describe it for me."
Junak did not know if he was smiling or crying. "There's an outdoor café near my uni that provides a great view of the city. I would take you there. We would sit at my favourite spot." His heart ached. "I can almost see it, the sunlight on your face. Do you know, your eyes look golden brown in the sun? And I'd love to see you in a summer outfit."
Dikhou chuckled softly. "And?"
"You'll complain about how unhealthy the food is and I'll say - what, would you have preferred to cook for me then?"
Dikhou's chest rose and fell against Junak's back. "I'll say yes."
"So we'll go over to your apartment because mine is too messy."
"Obviously."
Junak smiled. "I'll make tea."
"You most definitely will not. I will make the tea."
Junak pouted. "Okay. I'll take a picture of you working in the kitchen and post it on my Instagram with the caption: get yourself a man who makes you tea. And then we'll sit at the kitchen island and drink the tea and talk about this and that."
"When do we get to the lunch because I think I'm hungry."
"Patience, love. It's a Saturday so we have all the time in the world."
Dikhou's hair tickled Junak as he snuggled closer. "Okay."
"Okay. So, you'll go over to your fridge which is stacked with healthy stuff. And I'll comfortably sit and watch you make... wait, what will you make?"
"Rice."
"Well, duh. But something to go with it?"
"I want dal made of elephant apple and fried fish."
Junak laughed. "You won't get the ingredients in America, love."
Dikhou mimicked Junak's pout. "I can't think of a single dish whose ingredients I'll find in America."
"Ugh, okay, fine. Somehow, you have an elephant apple in your fridge and you're making elephant apple dal."
"Yes!"
"That's not date food, by the way. That's five years into a marriage food."
"Shush, I'm cooking," Dikhou said.
Junak laughed over the sadness pressing down on his chest. "Okay, so you are cooking and we are talking."
"You have your music on."
"Duh. I'm complaining about uni. You tell me about your boss at work-"
"I have a job?"
"How else will you import the damn elephant apple?"
Dikhou's laugh sent ripples through Junak's body.
"And then we'll eat together. I'll dump the elephant apple pieces onto your plate." The weight on his chest grew heavier and heavier. "You'll pick out the fish bones for me."
"Obviously," Dikhou agreed. "Wouldn't want you choking."
"Yeah, that'll be a bad date."
Dikhou's voice went soft as he said, "And then?"
"Then we'll watch a movie. Chances are, I'd already seen it so I'll fall asleep on your lap."
Dikhou raised a hand to cup a side of Junak's face and kissed him behind his ear. "It sounds nice."
The impossible knot was all that was left in Junak's chest. "We'll go to pride marches together where I can kiss you in front of everybody."
"I'd like that," Dikhou murmured.
Junak closed his eyes. "We'll go to concerts and clubs and picnics. Oh, and karaoke!" His heart pounded painfully. "We'll travel together. To like, mountains covered in clouds where we'll stay in a small cosy cottage overlooking a bright blue sky. Or, we'll go to one of those fancy romantic places in Italy that I've always wanted to visit."
Dikhou's hands trembled and Junak caught them in his.
"I'll wake up each morning next to you," Junak continued, dazed and lost to their sweet world of make-believe, "and because I don't wanna leave, I'll wear one of your shirts to uni so that I can drown in your-" He broke off when he felt how wet Dikhou's eyes were against his shoulder. The last bits of sanity keeping him together unravelled. "D-Dikhou?"
Dikhou did not reply. His breaths were shallow and uneven.
Junak pried himself loose from Dikhou's hold and turned around to face him. Dikhou's eyes were red and his lips were quivering. And he refused to look at Junak. "I'm sorry I can't go with you."
"Hey, no, geez." Junak cupped Dikhou's face in his hands, the way Dikhou had done for him innumerable times before. "It's not your fault. I..." He had wanted to be angry at Dikhou, for refusing to go with him, but he understood what he was asking of him. And it was too cruel. Dikhou's family was his whole world, and even if he had said yes to Junak in a mad frenzy, he would not be happy without them.
Junak understood. This was not a movie. In real life, things did not work out all the time, no matter how much they yearned for it.
Them parting ways at the end had been inescapable from the start. "It is what it is, love."
Dikhou pulled Junak into his arms and buried his face on his shoulder. "One week?"
Junak took a shuddering breath and reached out to tangle his fingers in Dikhou's hair. He wanted to sound strong, for both their sakes, but his voice cracked right in the middle as he said, "One week."