Chapter 8: Dhruv
My one desperate plea to the heavens is for him to not hear my heart thudding in my chest. I can clearly hear each and every heartbeat. It feels as if time has slowed down-or is even still-and it's just the two of us sitting here, sharing a shawl. The drama is in my head, not in reality. Am I giving away too much? Am I making it obvious that I like him? So far, I could just hear my heartbeat, but now I feel it. Blood seems to rush through my body at an unprecedented speed. My ears feel warm. They must be turning red. I am in trouble. Our faces are barely an inch apart and he is staring at me as if he has never seen me. If he gets any closer, I might kiss him. He doesn't even need to come closer for that. I can just move my face a bit and...I cannot let that happen. It would be a sin in his eyes; he would never forgive me. If he decides to leave now, he would. Nothing would hold him back.
I clear my throat and push him aside. I should have controlled my strength. He just tumbles backwards. Poor thing. He grabs my track pant and pulls himself up. By now, the entire shawl covers him. Good.
"Why did you push me?", he hisses.
"What kind of man sits so close to another man?" I should seriously think before I speak. I am not the best person to say that. I do much more than merely sitting beside men. Much more. I have seen men naked. Men have seen me naked. The air between us is now awkward. He moves a bit away from me. I knew he'd be disgusted. Shashi was correct. It is impossible.
"I'll keep the shawl then.", he tells me and wraps the shawl around him tighter. He sits staring at the bonfire, the light of it shining into his eyes. His eyes appear a remarkably different shade, almost the colour of honey.
The more I get to know him, the more reasons I have to like him. He validates all of my feelings by merely existing. All the one-night stands, all the flings, all the relationships appear insignificant in his presence. I haven't had the cleanest dealings in my life. Yet, if I were to go back in time and had an assurance of him liking me back, of being with me forever, I would mend my ways. We are crossroads currently- he has a way he must take, and I am already astray. A part of me is desperate to ask him out, but the fear of disappointing him plagues me. Presumably, he already is disappointed and disgusted, but is doing a good job at hiding it. If so, I am thankful for his concealment. Someone is kind enough to hide his disgust.
"I could come here every night. This is a good place to shut off all thoughts.", he remarks. He looks at me and smiles. The smile fills me with a warmth enough to combat all chills.
While he is calm, devoid of any thoughts, my brain is being rummaged by them. Our states are exactly opposite. Nevertheless, if something makes him happy, it will be done. I make a note to myself- I have to bring him here every night so long as he is here. I start feeling warmer. I can guess what's coming. It is me.
I stand up abruptly. Vansh looks at me, surprised. "I am going in.", I announce. He appears confused. I start walking away. He gets up and follows me. There's no need to look behind to ensure that. He would not stay here alone.
"But what's the matter?", he yells. I do not answer. "Can you not slow down? I can't walk that fast in sand." He still increases his pace and soon enough, I hear his footsteps dangerously close to my own. He grabs my arm and makes me freeze in my spot. He is panting. "Mind your behaviour."
We are almost at the haveli. I nod. We walk together, side by side.
I emerge out of my room at 5 am the next morning. As if waiting for me, he emerges out of his. He has a small cabin bag by him, just like me. The level of similarity is unnerving, but yet again, it is common sense. We'll be staying overnight. A cabin bag is enough.
We are now in the car, listening to Kishore Kumar. As I tap my fingers on the steering wheel, I hear him humming the songs. My generation has had a kind of reversal, from not liking old songs, to relying on them for solace and everything else. My six year difference with Vansh is a generation gap, but seeing that we share the same taste in music, I am at ease. I do not deem it necessary to speak of such trivialities since I believe that it is the cues that one needs to pick up. If the power of observation is strong enough, inquiry is unnecessary.
"How long would it take to get there?", he asks.
"Over ten hours. With breaks, about twelve."
He stares at me. "Why are we going by a car then? We could have taken a flight. I am sure we would reach there by noon."
"We could have done that."
"We just left an hour ago. The sun isn't up yet. Let's go back. I'll look for a flight." He takes out his phone immediately.
"Do you not like road trips?"
His hand freezes. I am dividing my attention between him and the road now.
"Never said I disliked them." He puts his phone aside. "But this is a lot of distance to cover."
I chuckle. "I'll be the one driving. Just relax."
"That's not the point." I hear agitation in his voice. After a short pause, he resumes, "It's just that..." His unfinished explanation leaves me uneasy.
"You don't like to be in the same space as me?" I look at him as I ask this.
He stares at me. "I wouldn't have agreed to come if that was the case." He looks out of the window immediately.
I blush. I feel butterflies in my stomach. The man I have liked for the longest time says that he likes being in the same space as me. He has said this knowing that I like men. Does he perhaps...? No. He is as straight as my erect cock would be thinking of him. My similes and metaphors are far more dangerous than I want them to be. I am comparing his preferences with my erection.
I must admit something here. Oftentimes, I have fantasized about him. I have thought of how it would be to sleep with him. The thought has been enough to make me masturbate. I sound so vulgar.
When I first laid my eyes on him six years, ten months, and twenty-two nights ago, the time when he got wet in the rain, was the first time it happened. I got him a towel and a night suit set (surprisingly enough I had one). When I knocked at the bathroom door, he asked me to enter inside. I hesitated, but seeing my chance, I did. Unfortunately, he had pulled the shower curtains, so I could not see him. I handed him the towel and clothes and was about to leave. However, in the process of handing him the clothes from the other side, the curtain had created some space from the side closer to the mirror. In the mirror, I saw the reflection. Of his cock. He was patting himself dry. I felt my erection.
I rushed to my own bathroom and locked the door. I pulled down my pants and saw my pre-cum on it. Dammit. That was quick. Back then, I did not know if those were genuine feelings or pure lust. But I had to put in minimal effort. My masturbation came quickly, and almost naturally. Since I was not in London, and hence sexually deprived for the entire vacation, I often thought of him. I had at one point become addicted to sex and needed it at least once a week. He was a solace in that deprived state. As soon as his cock flashed in front of my eyes, I went erect. I masturbated myself to sleep numerous times. He had penetrated my dreams too- at times he was the top, other times I was. He gave me serious nightfalls. Those wet dreams made me wonder what our positions would be if we were to ever sleep together.
Even then, a part of me knew it would be impossible. There were rumours of him dating someone back then, but I don't know who. Yashika came into the picture about three years after the incident. Yet, whenever I heard the possibility of him being with some woman, it triggered jealousy in me. That he did not belong to me was irrelevant in front of my desire to have him all to myself.
I cried myself to sleep when I heard about him and Yashika being a potential pair in the future. He came in a wet dream that night too.
He is sleeping in the passenger seat. The cause of my sleepless, wet, lonely, contemplative nights is unaware of the effect he has on me. I hear him snoring slightly. He won't wake up for a while. I am sure. I slide my hand in my pants and stroke my cock. It is already erect due to the memories. My intention was to bring it to a state of rest, but leaving it as it was would have been the better option. The stroking is causing me to come. I have to stifle any and every noise. I pause, take a deep breath, and take my hand out. I stretch my arm behind the seat where I always keep a shawl. I place it on my crotch. Whatever has to happen, will happen under it. It won't be seen by him. Eventually, I end up coming.
We arrive in Jaipur at 5 pm. My cousin, Nikhil, the birthday boy, greets me with a hug. As always, there would be a Rajasthani music performance at 6 pm, followed by a party at 9. I had informed him of an extra guest. He was ecstatic to meet Vansh with whom he could not interact much at the wedding. There is no guarantee that Vansh would interact with him without uprooting his faith in humanity, but anyways.
I take the room I always take when I am here. And that is the room Vansh gets too. My life unfolding as a romance novel is the last thing I desire. I have a chance to sleep beside him, if not with him. I am excited. For the right reasons, as well as the wrong ones. "We'll be wearing poshak for the Rajasthani performance. That's what everyone wears.", I inform him.
He stares at me wide eyed. "You should have told me before. I don't have one."
I give him a smug smile. I open my bag and take out two poshaks. I throw one at him. "Here. It's yours." I chose a red top and white bottom for him, with a red and white turban. Mine is blue and white.
He unfolds it and examines it carefully. "I'll change first." He enters the bathroom and after a merry fifteen minutes, comes out wearing the pyjama. His upper body is naked. His abs are perfectly visible. Even though he has a line of fine hair above and below his belly button on his midriff, his skin underneath it is smooth as butter. I want to feel it. I think I stared at him for too long, since the next thing I hear is him clearing his throat. He slides his arms in the top in front of me. "Tie it for me. This is a real hassle."
I smile and head towards him. I adjust the top before taking the strings. My hand 'accidentally' brushes against his chest. I feel goosebumps on his skin. His nipples have hardened too; they weren't that way when he came out of the bathroom. I am observant. In these things, I sure am. He is feeling something, most probably anxiety around me. I don't know.
My stomach must have a butterfly garden by now. I finish tying his turban after the top, and all decked up, he looks scrumptious. I could eat him right now, but getting him dressed has been quite an effort on my part too. I cannot undress him.
He walks past me and admires himself in the mirror. "I look like I belong here.", he tells me.
"Agreed." He is so self-obsessed. I just play along, fuelling his admiration. I head to the bathroom to change. When I come out, he is not to be seen in the bedroom. He must have gone downstairs.
I leave the room, locking it properly behind me. I lean against the parapet and see him speaking to Nikhil. If you live long enough, you end up seeing miracles. He does appear a bit uneasy, but a chatty person like Nikhil would not leave him alone. Nikhil grabs the chance when he sees it and does not let it go. It is up to Vansh to deal with him. I won't intervene.
As I walk towards the stairs, I ponder over his current position in his company. He has to prove himself capable of inheriting a few businesses. He is a good businessman from what my intuition says, but he lacks the skill to negotiate with people. If he is able to change himself for the better, the tide would turn in his favour. I await his flourish. I am sure he would succeed. And this also brings me to the realization that I might be a hindrance. His association with me might be troublesome for him. Perilous enough would be a situation where everyone comes to know that I am gay, but having spent such a lot of time with me would give rise to wrong ideas about him. About us.
Neither can I confess, nor can I let him go. I am nowhere. Ideas about love are so contradictory. Some say that you keep the people you love close to you. Others say that true love is in the act of letting go. Which one do I exercise?
Nikhil waves at me. Vansh turns to look at me. From the courtyard-where we all are right now-I can see the backyard all set up. It would begin soon. There are people in the lawn wearing poshak. I head towards Nikhil. I feel hands grabbing my waist. I turn around. It is Nidhi, Nikhil's sister (and mine too), who gives me a tight hug. I hug her back. Nidhi is the only cousin of mine who knows I am gay. She had spotted me leaving with Shashi that night.
That being said, it was at Nikhil's party where I and Shashi first met. Shashi is Nikhil's neighbour. Shashi must be here too. Shashi is here. He enters the courtyard from the backyard. He stops upon seeing me. He then sees Vansh. Vansh looks at Shashi and then at me.
"Back together?", Nidhi whispers.
I shake my head and sigh. The familiarity of the situation is disconcerting.
Life never gets easier.
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