A/N: Once again, please show your love for my wonderful co-writers iamaprettywitch0 and somesortaway :) <3

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Hey Madhav, what is happening to me? Ishan wondered, puzzled by the intensity of his feelings.

"I mean, I want to know you." Shubman said with a smile, gently holding his face with one hand, the other one still entangled in his hand.

"I want to learn everything about you. Your likes, your dislikes. I want to learn about the things that make you happy," He murmured, his face so close to Ishan's, the latter could feel his warm breath hitting him.

"Or the things that make you mad, or sad, and all the other things." He continued, gazing deep into Ishan's eyes.

"I want to paint you, purify my canvas with your portrait and teach you how to paint. I want to hear you play the bansuri and learn how to play it from you. I want to learn about your fears, and your passions. I wanna know what makes you feel the most alive. I want to learn about your dreams and everything else in between."

For the first time in his life, Ishan felt like he was being seen, seen for who he truly was behind his always smiling persona. The emotions rushing through him made him feel so overwhelmed that his eyes couldn't help but tear up.

Shubman smiled softly, brushing away the tear with his thumb, and continued in the same genuine, tender tone. "I want to steal every single tear from your eyes, and replace them with smiles and laughter, but I also want to hold you close if you ever want to cry your heart out. I want to learn everything about you. I want to be there for you in your smiles and sorrows, in joy and pain, in every step of our life, maybe even when we're old. Will you please give me the honour to do so?"

"Shubman", Ishan said, his voice trembling with emotion, "Aap sach mai hamein itna chaahte hain?"
(Do you really mean all of that?)
And oh, the cautious but desperate hope in his eyes as he asked that made Shubman's heart soar. "I do, Ishan, with all of my heart. Ever since I've met you it feels as if my life has finally found its meaning. People come here to find themselves, but I've lost myself, my heart and soul to you from the moment I heard your voice. Nothing in my life has ever felt so right, Ishu... You're the answer to my prayers, Kanha ji's blessing to me and the fruit of every penance I might have ever done."

Ishan wordlessly pulled Shubman into a hug, wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck, "Ham aapko bata nahi sakte ham kitne khush hain... Jabse hamne aapko uss din ghaat pe dekha tha, tabse hamaari nazar bechainon ki tarah sirf aapko hi dhundhti thi",

(I can't tell you how happy I am... From the moment I saw you at the banks that day, my restless gaze has been searching for you desperately),

the musician whispered, his face hidden in the taller man's neck, for he felt too shy to look at him while baring his heart like this, "Aur jo nigaahein kabhi ek cheez par na thehri thi, unko aapki chhavi mai ghar mil gaya, vo aur mera dil, dono ko bas aapne thaam ke kab rakh liya apne paas, ham samajh hi nahi paaye".

(And the eyes that never rested on one thing for long, found a home in your visage, you captured my eyes and my heart, keeping both to yourself, yet rendered me too indisposed to really comprehend it)

Shubman tightened his arms around Ishan's waist, pressing a kiss to the shorter man's hair, overcome with affection.

The musician pulled away, cupping Shubman's face tearfully, "Par ham ye Brajbhoomi chhod kahin aur nahi bas paayenge",

(But I could never abandon the land of Braj* for anything)

he said emphatically, "Ham hamaare Govind ki nagri Vaikuntha* ke liye bhi nahi tyaagenge, Shubman, chaahe hamein hamaare Narayan hi kyun na mil gaye ho".

(I won't even forsake my Govind's land for Vaikuntha, no matter that I've found my Narayan)

He had expected the taller man to be angry, or disappointed, but Shubman just smiled at him fondly and pulled him even closer until Ishan was pressed flush against him, "Jab unki Lakshmi roothi toh Narayan bhi Vaikuntha tyaag ke Dharti par aaye the, jaan",

(When his Lakshmi was upset, Narayan too forsook Vaikuntha for Earth to appease her, my life),

he said, playfully rubbing their noses together, "Tyaag chaahe koi bhi kare, bhale vo Narayan ho ya Sita ke roop mai Lakshmi, har janam, har roop mai Lakshmi-Narayan ka milan tay hota hi hai."

(No matter who makes the sacrifice, be it Narayan or Lakshmi in the form of Sita, in every birth, every guise, the union of Lakshmi-Narayan is predestined)

The tears in Ishan's eyes made way for surprise and elation. Would Shubman abandon his city life to be with him in the land of god? He had spent many nights thinking about how different things would be had Shubman not been a "pardesi", a foreigner to the city. He had been warned off of falling for the charms of outsiders who would come in and soak themselves in the purity and love of his city then abandon it again to go back to their mundane lives.

But Shubman said he would not want Ishan to abandon his world to be with him. What more could he want in life?

He still wanted to hear the words from Shubman.

"Iska matlab aap.. aap humare liye apni duniya tyaag denge?"

(Does that mean you'll... You'll sacrifice your world for me?)

Shubman hummed, the vibrations of which made Ishan feel things as he held on to Shubman.

"Mein tho apni zindagi ka ek chota sa hissa tyaag raha hoon. Duniya tho mujhe basani hai.. tumhare sang"

(I'm just letting go of a small part of my life. I want to make my own little world... With you)

The gentleness of the words washed over Ishan like an early morning arti, full of serene divinity.

Shubman cupped Ishan's face again and looked into his eyes seeking permission. Ishan surged forward and placed a gentle kiss on Shubman's lips.

The touch of their lips was tender, feather-like, both hesitant to explore this uncharted, sacred territory. Ishan had never kissed anyone before, and even if it might not seem like it, this was Shubman's first kiss as well.

It felt like their hearts had taken the lead in its own hands, as their lips gently, involuntarily moved on each other's, while they held on to steady each other, because the intensity of the moment had left them with wobbly knees.

The touch of Ishan's soft, plush lips had illuminated each and every fiber of Shubman's being, the deepest, darkest corners of his heart filled with a warmth he had never known before, it felt as if he was gravitating towards the sky, his heart soaring high. Ishan's arrival in his life was something he wouldn't consider anything less than a divine intervention, planned and executed by everyone's beloved Girdhari, had completed him, even if he never knew he was missing something. But now that he knows Ishan, he was sure of it. Shubman could say with utter surety that the Lord had created the two of them with one fragment of soul, for their connection was nothing less than cosmic and time less.

With the touch of Shubman's lips on his own, Ishan felt like the man had taken over his soul, each caress of his lips felt like a direct touch to his heart, soothing it with a tenderness so pure and profound Ishan couldn't help but tear up again. Shubman was holding his face softly, with caution as if he was the most precious thing to exist on the face of this earth. For Shubman, he was.

Warm sunlight filtering through the huge Banyan tree, caressing their flesh, Ishan and Shubman had never known a warmth as pleasant, in their life, as they did while being in each other's arms.

As they stood in each other's embrace, sounds of temple bells and flute, the river and the cacophony of life all merged in the background to give blessings to a couple that had the favor of the God of Love himself.

----------------One Month Later-----------------

"Ishan, come back here!", the musician laughed as he dodged his lover's grasp once again, racing ahead as he headed straight to the studio.

Shubman had been very elusive about what he had been painting in his studio since they had met, and Ishan had been positively itching with curiosity to find out. He hadn't even known the paintings had been completed until Shubman had received a letter from the museum in Delhi, requesting for his works to be displayed at their exhibition which was to be held a week later.

"Caught you", the painter whispered in his ear, making the smaller man let out a squeak as he was snatched from behind, the keys to the studio coaxed out of his grasp by fingers tickling his ribs.

"Shu-hu-hu-bman sto-ho-ho-ho-ppp", Ishan squealed, his face red and tears in his eyes as he tried to dodge the merciless tickle attack. Shubman chuckled and let him go, standing up from the ground, where they had fallen during their tussle. He turned to offer a hand to help Ishan up, but the musician had turned away from him with a pout, his arms crossed over his chest.

Ishan knew he wouldn't be getting to see those paintings, and knew he had to go nuclear this time. His eyes were already brimming with tears from the tickling earlier, and he used them to his full advantage as he looked up at Shubman, making the saddest face he could, "Jaaiye, aapko apni kala baaki duniya ko dikhana manzur hai, bas ham hi se chhupa rahe hain aap. Ham nahi bolenge aapse, aapne hamaara dil dukhaya hai".

(Go away, it's okay for you to share your art with the rest of the world, excepting me. You're hiding it only from me. You've pained my heart, I won't speak to you now)

The taller man teared up as well as he tenderly took Ishan's face in his hands, kissing the wet eyelids, "I'm so sorry, jaan, I really didn't mean to make you cry. Please forgive me, love, of course I'll show you my paintings". The musician had just been pulling his lover's leg, but the way Shubman was apologizing, tugging his earlobes with tears in his eyes, made Ishan feel awful about it.

He immediately pulled the painter into a hug, "Ham toh bas mazaak kar rahe the Shubi, sacchi. Hamein bura nahi laga, ham dobaara zidd nahi karenge aapke chitra dekhne ke liye, aap please mat roiye".

(I was just joking, Shubi, really. I wasn't actually hurt, I won't insist to see your paintings again, please don't cry)

Shubman sighed in relief as he realised he hadn't actually hurt Ishan, and immediately buried his face in the shorter man's neck, holding on to him tighter. Pulling away after a moment, he said, "But you're right, jaan. It's not fair that I've been keeping this from you all this time. Of course my muse deserves to see my work. Just... I'm sorry". Ishan furrowed his brows in confusion as Shubman held his hand and led him to the studio,
"App kshama kyun maang rahe hai, Shubi?"
(What are you apologising for, Shubi?),
he asked, tilting his head in bewilderment. "You'll know in just a moment, jaan"

Before he could respond, the taller man unlocked the door, holding it open for Ishan to step inside with an 'after you' gesture.

The musician gasped as he saw the paintings arranged in a semicircle in the center of the room. They depicted the serene divinity of Vrindavan, but the centerpiece of every single one of them, unmistakably and indubitably... Was Ishan.

Shubman, always eager to share his passion with Ishan, had shown him many historical paintings depicting divine beauty. Ishan recalled seeing works like The Birth of Venus, Girl With A Pearl Earring, Hans Damayanti for the first time and just being awed, not just at the sheer skill, but also at how much the artist would've loved and admired their muse to depict them so beautifully.

But looking at what Shubman had painted, Ishan could proudly say even those iconic works paled in comparison to the way his Artist had gathered every ounce of love in the world and poured it all out on a 30×40" canvas.

Shubman had painted every single detail with so much care and attention the painting looked more like a picture, but the fact that Ishan managed to shine the brightest even in the midst of such meticulously drawn beauty made him feel utterly, ineffably worshiped.

He turned to his lover with overwhelmed tears already spilling out of his eyes, "Aap... Shubman, is this how you see me?", he whispered, throat too choked-up with emotion to manage proper speech. Shubman, who had been waiting with baited breath for his reaction, stepped closer to him, tenderly wiping his cheeks. "Oh, jaana, if only my incapable hands could cooperate with my heart, I'd be able to show you how ethereal you really are... This is just an unsuccessful attempt".

"Unsuccessful?" Ishan whispered in disbelief, "Shubman, ham jaise tucch insaan ko aapne apni kalaa se devon ki upaadhi di hai..."
(You have deified someone inconsequential like me through your art),

"You haven't made me an objectified Muse, you've made a God out of me. Ham iska badlaa kabhi kaise chuka-"
(How can I ever match-)

The taller cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips, "Love isn't a transaction, priye. And it is I who hasn't been able to match your glowing beauty with my depiction... Look", Shubman gestured to the paintings, still holding him close.

"No matter what pink I used, I could never capture the sweetness of the smile on your heart-shaped lips; no amount of white could light this canvas up the way your smile lights up my heart. There wasn't a single colour I could make that matched how the sun rays kissing your face made it glow like molten gold... It is just like us insignificant mortals offering the progenitor of the universe a few withered petals in hopes to please him, just... Inadequate"

Ishan paid no heed to the tears all over his face as he pulled the love of his life into a desperate kiss, "I don't know about anyone else, but I know my withered petals pleased the Lord, for he bestowed his greatest benediction to me in the form of you, Shubman. Oh, I love you so much."

Like every pilgrim, Shubman had come to Vrindavan searching for that missing piece he lacked. And just like every pilgrim, he ended up losing his heart in that sacred land.

The Chittachora had certainly stolen his heart, but Shubman would never complain, for he had entrusted his most favourite child to keep it safe.

And for whatever unfathomable reason, Madhav had trusted Shubman too, to love his dearest child like he deserved. And as a devotee, the painter would eternally be obliged to never let Kanha down.

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A/N: *For the final time, a little guide for all the names of Lord Krishna/other references in the fic:

Chittachora= "Stealer of hearts"
Makhanchora= "Butter thief"
Kamalnayan= "Lotus-eyed One"
Madhav= "Slayer of the demon Madhu"
Girdhari= "One who lifts mountains"
Govinda= "Protector of cows"
Shyamsundara= "Dark and beautiful"
Krishna/Kanha= "All-attractive"
Radha/Radhe= "Consort of Krishna"
Murlidhar, Bansuriwala= "The one who holds the flute / Flute bearer"
Radha Raman, Radha Vallabha= Beloved/divine lover of Radha"
Bankey Bihari= "Most Special One"
Manmohan = "He who captivates the mind/ one who steals the heart"

Lakshmi= "Goddess of Fortune, Eternal Consort of Narayana"
Narayana= "Lord Vishnu, Nurturer of the Cosmic Manifestation"
Vaikuntha= "Abode of Lakshmi-Narayana"
Braj= "Another name for Vrindavan"