IM SO FUCKINF SORRY I FORGOT TO UPLOAD AGAIN AAAAAAA

What a treacherous thing to belive that a person is more than a person - John Green

He hadn't dealt with the rejection well —— at all. The proof was the woman he had had sex with last night, using her full brute strength. He was sure to have caused her some damage and was now drowning in eternal guilt. He gazed at the wincing woman, who seemed to be in her early thirties. Despite apologising profusely, Azmaray still felt he had failed. Not a surprise though, lately failing was all that he had been doing. Glancing back at the bruised woman with apologetic eyes, Azmaray exited the bedroom. His heart, heavier than ever.

Each step he took, descending down the stairs of the large home, his sweater thrown over his shoulder casually, Azmaray thought over his life. How had he dwindled into the man he was? What was the meaning of life if he couldn't find satisfaction in anything? Was he meant to live a life, with glass half empty? Where was the mercy, the dawn everyone talked about? And now the overbearing guilt of taking out his frustrations on a woman he had known for barely more than three hours, stabbed his heart.

Ignoring the throb in his head, the pulsating ache, touching the cusp of his jaw. Eyes red with water filling in them as he relaxed his jaw. His teeth grinding against each other with the slow action, his hands skimming the cherry wood railing. He had just one more day left in the city of Gardens, after which, he would be shipped back to his birthplace, the village he was beginning to loathe. The life he was beginning to dread.

The driver passed him a salute as Azmaray slid into the backseat, sliding the sleek black shades on, fingers tightly morphed into a punch. He hit his thigh repeatedly with the butt of his palm, biting his lips as the ache seemed to spread out, chilling him. The neurons in his body seemingly spreading out and turning into a icy cold grip. His hands paling, colour draining out of them as he took deep breaths to stabilise himself. The car moved through the mainly empty streets with a profound smoothness, the soft sounds of the heater, lulled Azmaray to a much needed sleep, the ache in his head long forgotten.

Around fifteen minutes later, the driver knocked on Azmaray's window. They had arrived at the hotel. Rubbing his eyes harshly, he yawned, nodding the mans way before stepping inside the luxurious hotel, the lobby already brimming with life as tourists began to pour in. Meanwhile, he looked like a hot mess, his hair dropping on his forehead, eyes laced with sleep and the broad shoulders hunched —— a vulnerable picture. Nodding towards the bellboy, Azmaray trudged towards the elevators, resting his head against the cool metal walls, feeling the heat that radiated from his head, spread out. After what seemed like eternity, he arrived at his room. His jaw locked in position, the ache finally dulling.

Unfortunately, Azmaray had celebrated too soon. A few steps and the pain was back with full force. It killed him with each step he took, to the point that he felt nauseated. Every small sound, irked him. Fiddling with the keys, Azmaray missed the lock a couple of times before finally succeeding in entering the room. Groaning, he all but threw his shoes onto the floors, jumping onto the large L-shaped couch in the lounging area of the suite, too lazy to even step inside the attached bedroom.

"Where were you?" An annoying voice interrupted him.

Azmaray moaned, shuffling around, his eyes still shut tight, hoping to be left alone.

"Where were you?" This time the voice was closer, more furious.

Azmaray threw up his middle finger in the air, a white flag of peace, to be left alone.

"Azmaray! I'm responsible for you——" Asghar was furious, as he leaned over Azmaray's huddled form.

"Koi doodh peeta bacha nahi hun jo mujhe baby sitter ki zaroorat hai! The lot of you left me alone for years. I know how to take care of myself!" [I'm not a child that I'd need a baby sitter!] Azmaray sat up, wincing as he shouted at him, his head bursting with pain.

"And I know why you're looking after me. It's for that bloody title! Just let me have peace. We leave at eight pm tomorrow, and you'll find me in the car. But stop tracking my ever move for God's sake!" He screamed, feeling fed up with the attitude of his family.

Asghar stared at his younger brother, stunned. He wondered where the brother who ran after him after ever small inconvenience had gone. Azmaray was lost, and Asghar knew he had a large hand in the way things had panned out. His ice cold attitude towards Azmaray had pushed him away too much and now he had nothing but a handful of regrets left. If only, he could go back in time, he would never repeat his mistakes. He turned on his feet, entering his bedroom, leaving Azmaray to wallow in his pain. Leaving the man all alone, once again.

Finally having some peace and quiet, Azmaray managed to fall asleep. His dreams plagued with his father, the memories he desperately wanted to forget. Each night was a repeat of the horrors of life. Each dream, made his loneliness more profound. Each sleep singled him out, for when he woke up, there was no one rushing to wipe his tears. To calm him down, to kiss his pain away. The physical loneliness that Azmaray fought with, doubled when he realised the spiritual and mental loneliness he had. There was no one he could turn to. No one to hold him and whisper into his ears that it would all be okay.

Life was cruel. It had taken away the only source of comfort that he possessed. With that, the changes in attitude of his family, much like the change in weathers, had left him sick. Situations were like the pathogens and he was the singular lymphocyte standing. Waging a war, trying to keep the body afloat. Failing but trying again. Yet there was only so much he could take.

————

Stepping out from the steaming, hot shower, Azmaray dried his hair. The water droplets cascading down his abdomen and over the ridges of his defined abs. His muscles flexing as he pulled his white, cotton silk formal shirt over his body. Tucking it into the formal trousers, placing the ruby ring on his index finger. He rubbed the Tom Ford cologne on his neck, and inner wrists. Brushing his hair and wrapping the wrist watch around his thick wrist.

Azmaray left a note on the counter for Asghar, informing him that he was heading out to have lunch with Alamgeer. He had been looking forward to meeting his best friend ever since he had arrived in Lahore. Unfortunately, it had taken them this long to arrange one, thanks to Alamgeer's busy schedule. It was after all, no easy feat being a candidate for Prime Minister.

Humming the tune of his favourite song, his mood was a complete 180 from what it had been early morning. As soon as he had seen Alamgeer's confirmation text, Azmaray had jumped off of the couch. Rushing to get dressed for the meeting. If there was man who could help him sort his feelings out, it was that guy. He cared about his opinions alone, for they always held the most weight. He anxiously bounced his leg, chewing on his bottom lip, waiting for the driver to stop at Alamgeer's home.

Alamgeer and his wife, Lyana, were hosting him for lunch at their own home. With Alamgeer wanting Azmaray to meet his wife at the comfort of his home. He had agreed instantly, after all, it was the person he cared about and not the backdrop of this meeting.

He was in a predicament. His feelings needed to be sorted out. Last night, whilst he had been ravaging the young woman, his mind was clouded with Rani. He could feel her warm touch and the fire laced kissed she had left across his chest. The softness of her palms, the sharpness of her nails, digging into his pec. He had imagined her moaning his name from her soft, soprano voice. The breath-liness of which, had left him wanting more. He could smell her perfume and imagine her mischief filled orbs. Their light honeycomb shade that would melt him if need be.

Infatuation. Noun. Meant to be an intense short lived passion. Nothing more. To the point. Precise. Just needed too much of the said passion before it burnt completely. Rani was giving him a tough chase, and that fuelled his infatuation for her. It has been human nature, to desire that which has slipped from the hands. The urge to conquer and rule all wild beings and things was after all, steeped deep into his very rag [vein]. The blood of a duke ran through him, the blood of great conquerors had been his identity from even before his conception. So how could a mere prostitute win this fight?

He could not mull over his disappointment and feelings as the car stopped infront of the Ahad's residence. His best friend, Alamgeer, standing at the doorway, his hand wrapped around a woman who passed him radiant smiles. He observed Alamgeer, bend and lay kisses on her face, still not having noticed his presence. It made him feel singled out, more than ever. This feeling of having a home in a person, he wished to have that again.

"Assalamualikum!" [Peace be on you!] Azmaray greeted, wiping away his disappointment, covering it with a large grin.

Grinning, Alamgeer walked over, hugging him tight. Patting his back roughly before leading him towards Lyana.

"Azmaray meet my wife, Lyana. Lyana meet my best friend, Azmaray". He introduced.

The two smiled at each other politely, Azmaray forwarding a sage green gift bag towards her.

"A gift from your deewar". [Younger brother-in-law.] He grinned, cheekily.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to bhai," [brother,] Lyana smiled softly.

"Of course I had to. It's my first time meeting you!" He waved her off.

Lyana politely nodded, leaving the two to hangout as she headed inside the home. Alamgeer smiled waving him inside. The two launching into a deep conversation, with Alamgeer teasing him about his 'infatuation'.

"Ho gaya hai tujh ko tou piyaar sajna
Lakh kar lai tou inkaar sajna!" [You have fallen in love beloved
You can reject a hundred thousand times beloved!] Alamgeer teased.

The evening full of laughter, making Azmaray forget the terrible week that he had been having.

This took me the longest to type
But kinda proud of it!

Azmaray bestie listen to Alamgeer okay? He smort guy

Sorry for the abrupt way it ended.

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