Playing Death |ONC 2021 Longlister

Chapter 13

Vansh

I knocked on his door after debating on this issue for a long time. To go to his flat or not? Would this mean I was forgiving him? Then I remembered what perspired over the last week, where some fool abused his powers and my parents yelled and babies screamed at my flat. I loved New York but loneliness crept more often than not. I loved it here but the noisiness subdued everything. Perhaps it was welcome to not indulge in my thoughts with this noise.

I picked at the frays of my new shirt that I had bought recently. I decided to go back as I could not make out any sounds from inside. On another note, I had not texted that I would visit him.

The door opened to reveal a lazy James whose eyes adjusted to the light as he squinted and then his eyes widened into large black saucers as he slammed the door in my face. The impact made me shiver as I opened my mouth to explain. I realized it was a lost cause and felt helpless. The helplessness quickly dissolved into anger. I contemplated kicking the door down.

How dare he? After what he did? All those years of betrayal and he decides he can shut the damn door in MY face?

"Open this door right now!" I found myself yelling, pounding at it until my knuckles turned red. The door opened as James looked neatly dressed now.

"I was...shocked," he held up his hands sheepishly. "Didn't mean to be rude at all."

"Well, glad to know," I huffed past him and plopped on the couch. "And just so you know I'm only here because my flat is noisy."

I turned my head away from him as I heard him chuckling and then stifle a sigh when I didn't respond. "Sure, suit yourself."

After a long beat of silence he cleared his throat. "So. Are you going to sit here like you own this place because your flat is noisy?"

"Well, I thought I was welcome here," I bit back harshly.

"I just meant instead of staring at the wall you could...we could do something?" his face was void of emotion.

I remembered a time when I could, no we could read each other like rereading our favorite books and never getting tired. But it did not matter. He brought this upon himself.

"Sure, let's work on our songs," I shrugged, moving to grab a pencil and paper on his desk.

"Well I also meant we could..." James scratched his neck. I raised an eyebrow, was he going to suggest something ludicrous now? Like...god forbid, talking?

"What?" I gritted my teeth.

"Nothing," he turned away. "Let's get to work. Did you have breakfast yet?"

"Well kinda, I ate some biscuits," I muttered. "But don't worry it's enough."

"Some people need to eat here so I'm gonna eat," he looked at me amused. "I still have to cook so we can work on lyrics as I cook."

I felt nostalgia creep up like the backstabber it was and wrap its claws around me. James cooked food like it was art, like he was whipping up new music. I tried to resist for the longest time, biting my tongue, and then couldn't hold back anymore.

"What are you cooking?"

He laughed a mirthless laugh. "Did you not say that you don't want anything?"

"Just curious," I bit my lips. I saw him mix the already prepared white batter as he turned on the gas and heated the pan. In another bowl was mashed potatoes.

"Masala dosa!" we both said it at the same time although mine came out like an excited squeak.

I hated him even more then and I hated myself too. He laughed without qualms and I felt something lodge inside my chest.

"Yes your very favourite," he hummed, as he stirred the batter with a ladle and then scooped it out onto the pan making the dosa a perfect circle. As it heated up, he scooped a generous amount of mashed potatoes on it, folded the dosa into a roll with the spoon and scooped it onto the plate. The smell wafted throughout his kitchen and I was struck for an unconscious moment.

He remembered. After all those years.

What does that matter? He probably has it on his notes on his phone and doesn't really remember.

I felt my gut twist as I looked at him and gave him a small smile. "That was long ago, I don't anymore.

He looked up at me for what felt like an eternity until his smile slipped off. "Well. I'll make something else then and eat this."

I saw him slide the plate back across to himself, watching my favourite food disappear from my reach by each passing nanosecond.

"No!" I snatched the plate. "Well, I don't want you making different things and I'll have it."

I sat at the couch and shimmied away to the farthest end so he would know I was not being subtle here at all. He came and flopped himself on the couch making the plate in my hands wobble slightly as I glared at him and got up.

"I'm going to eat where you are not," I huffed and walked away.

"But I don't see the point," he chuckled as he stood up again. His plate was left untouched on the counter and I had a mild desire to eat all of it but he was swiftly at my side.

An amused glance passed his features as he took a plate for himself. "Why don't we eat together at the table? Maybe we can be at opposite ends no?"

I scrutinized him. Maybe he was joking. Or perhaps he wanted to ensnare me with his delusions of a nice, little chat? I got up and walked to the table as he did, all the while noticing him for any signs he might give away. There were none.

"Alright," I said cautiously.

"So hey, what's up with you?" he asked, taking a bite of his food, while dipping it in chutney. Red tomato chutney was my favourite and I took a bite of my food.

Why is it so good?

I closed my eyes relishing in the memories, the food we shared, the jokes that we passed. The conversations we had. How we were so close.

You have to try this, Jay! You gotta have it in one gulp tho and...

Oh god, this is too spicy!

I know, right? How cool is that? I feel my mouth burning ooof, but look, let's have one more. They serve it in five in one bowl. Also let's get to that next store and have masala iced yoghurt!

One more panipuri, one more conversation, one more night let's fall asleep talking nonsense about spicy food.

"Um, Vansh?" he called my real name slapping me out of the past. He looked tentative and then broke out into fits of giggles.

"Oh god, you love the food!" he slapped the table hard, his head bending forward as he tried to stifle his laughter but it came out as ugly snorts.

"Huh. Maybe," I looked away. I only realized very much later that sitting at opposite ends of a table meant one could take the other in while being perfectly apart but so close mentally. 

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Another chapter! Vote and comment, if you enjoyed it and I'd love to hear your opinion! Do you think they will become friends soon?