Unrequited Forever✔️

26. Amarsahayak - Somewhere only we two go.

It was a perfectly fine day when I decided to go to Deepak's streets. I was bored and I wanted some fun. I wanted to see if my 6'4" baby was doing well. Ironically speaking.

I was walking with my friend like a maniac. Laughing like a hyena and falling here and there. If somebody would have commented on me, they would have surely said, "Babu. Drugs or wot?"

But I was too ignorant of these facts. I just wanted to laugh like it was my last day on earth. Ever cared to think why do we laugh? No, right? People like you and me face too much toxicity every day. This settles down in our abdomen and sticks there like a weed. Then when there is too much of this toxicity, you vomit it out. It is laughter. People who love you laugh with you. While haters brood in the corner. And when you laugh, the words come out like – "Ha, ha." But hear it carefully, it is – "Ha(rt), Ha(rt)." The voice of your heart!

Anyway. Philosophical Sahara sucks!!

I went to his alley and then I tripped over my own left leg. Is it me only? But. Wait what? I did not fall. I felt a tight muscular grip around my slender smooth waist. The reason I say smooth is because the hand went under my shirt and gave me a cold burn. Deepak is a vampire? So cold.

I looked up and my eyes burnt with the fiery amber eyes of this Deepak. 

What is happening on Earth? My waist is freezing, my eyes are burning. My legs are tripping over my own legs. I am throwing kids in trash cans. Blind people are stalking girls, and then the girl is overhyped about it. People are reading shit on Wattpad and smiling like a cobra. Taylor Swift's movie is becoming a dance party. What is happening, man? 

"Go. Amar will not come. I have to talk to him." Deepak commanded my friend and that bi*ch ran like a cheetah.

"What happened Deepak bhaiya?" I felt so good because his arms were still around my waist. But I had to turn my head 120 degrees up to see him. Why is he so tall? It's ok. The longer, the better.

He sat on the cement, what do you call that thing? That thing.

He  looked into my eyes. I was lost again.

The sun was gone. But the twilight sky was turning pink. There were streaks of orange and red clouds. The birds were flying back home. The wind blew gently to ruffle his messy hair and make him look irresistible. The outline of his beard was more prominent as he smiled. The cuckoo sang in the background. There was no one there. Except the neighbours who were least interested in being our spectators. The small eyes scrutinised me like I was a monument to be gazed at. The slightly pink lips were parted and breathed a minty-wine breath. His hands were callused with the battles he had fought on-court and off-court. His black shirt rolled up to his elbows exposing his white hands that curved around my waist. His neck was a slide to those kisses he might have received from girls before. But tonight, they were sliding down to make space for me. The bones in his neck were faintly visible. How to describe the expanse of his chest? His shirt's first two buttons were open. My gaze trailed all along his Adam's apple which moved up and down like a wave, as he watched me; to a sneak peek of his chest. His ivory chest was covered with a uniform layer of minuscule hair. Then I saw his biceps prominently cutting his shirt's cotton. How can I describe him? He is too perfect to be written about.

"What? Do you want to kiss me? Your eyes are on my lips only." He teased me. And I loved it.

"Only if I got everything I wanted. Then, darling, every inch of your body would have been mine." I couldn't believe I had said this.

"Oh my my. Bhaiya to Darling. You are taking it faster than I am habituated to."

"Badminton players need to adjust to the pace of their opponents."