This Starving Heart

You feed it lies.

Shubhman Gill was many things... a talented and promising cricketer, a good brother, a great babysitter, part time voice-actor, part time entertainer, an unfairly handsome man; and yet instead of all these fields, he was, as usual, giving an outstanding performance in being a fucking pain in the ass.

Ishan knocked on the door thrice.

There was no response.

Not even a sound of acknowledgement.

He could hear faint beats of a song along with water being splashed and hitting the ground From inside the bathroom.

Ishan wasn't sure if he wanted to bang his head against the door until he passed out or just break the door down.

He lets the overwhelming urge to do something stupid wash over him and walks back towards his bed.

Afterall, this has become a fairly common routine from the past week.

Shubhman would wake up at ungodly hours, (Which, according to Ishan, was concerning as the guy had always hated waking up for early morning practices and sulked for half of the day whenever they had them.)

Then he would spend most of the extra time he had from waking up at 4 in the morning in the bathroom by throwing himself a rock concert while taking a shower.

(Also very concerning as he was the one bitching about Ishan's habit of playing songs while getting ready until last week.)

But perhaps the most shocking change was in Gill's attitude.

Instead of their usual banter which often ended up in full blown screaming matches (and sometimes straight up fights), he had...mellowed out.

He didn't throw a temper tantrum whenever Ishan played movies without using earphones anymore, did not call his outfits stupid, did not call his music taste lame 40 times a day and did not throw clothes in his face whenever he left his discarded clothes on the bedside table. Instead he actually picked them up and took them for laundry!?

It was almost as if......he was trying to be polite.

Which....what?..... Why??

Lost in his own track of thoughts, Ishan didn't hear the bathroom lock sliding open and Gill walking out.

"Sorry for the delay, you can go now."

Ishan almost said 'thank you' but realized who he was about to thank at the last second. Instead, he responded with-

"Finally Done with your item numbers in the shower?"

Usually, Ishan would get a sassy answer or something flying towards his face as a response.

Instead, what he got was a simple-

"Sorry...didn't mean to block the bathroom like that."

Ishan simply rolled his eyes, grabbed his towel and walked inside, trying his best to shake off the odd sensations buzzing in his head.

Afterall, he wasn't supposed to be concerned in the first Place. That was not the type of relationship he shared with his roommate.

They had unscheduled screaming matches once a day and flipped middle fingers at each other during practice sessions.

There was no friendship, only tolerance.

...And yet, Ishan couldn't help the unease he felt in his gut.

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A hand around his wrist, holding tightly with an unrelenting grip.

Another sneaked behind his neck, yanked at his collar and pulled him back.

His back is pressed against a wall and nimble fingers run across his body.

He feels them sneak in his shirt, but the touch feels nice. Warm.

Then they tug at the belt loops of his jeans and pull.

He moves without complaint.

He's pressed against someone and the warmth grows stronger...until it spreads like wildfire everywhere...he feels it as he curls his toes, arches his back, jerks his legs backwards...but it never stops.

He doesn't complain.

Then those hands trace his collarbone and slowly come up...gliding across his neck and jaw and finally cupping his cheek.

A soft kiss is placed on his forehead, then his nose and finally his lips.

(It's odd how both hands are caressing his face, yet it feels like he's being tickled on the stomach...but he ignores it.

He wonders if this is how butterflies kiss.)

The kiss feels like hot melted Jaggery on a cold day. He never wants it to stop.

But it stops and something moves-

And then he's staring straight into the gleaming eyes of his roommate.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Shubhman wakes up and barely holds himself back from screaming in horror.

He rubs his face and sits up in his bed.

His body feels uncomfortably hot, his clothes are sweaty and...his underwear feels weird.

He almost gives himself a panic attack on the off chance that it could be pee before the fuzzy edges of his dream become clearer and-

Shame churns out from his gut and burns him from the inside out.

He can't even remember the last time this happened.

And before he can even begin to process the fact that he dreamed of his roommate, of all people, he nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears a slurred
"wha.t... happen..ed?" three feet away from him.

He suddenly remembers he's still in his hotel room that he shares with the same roommate.

"nothing. Washroom."

He gets out of bed and almost runs.

His roommate responds with "Mm...hmm" and promptly goes back to sleep.

.
.
.

'It's Just a one time thing'.....he tells himself as he lets the cold shower cool his body down.

'It's Just a one time thing'......he keeps Chanting in his head as flashbacks from the dream filter through his head.

'It's Just a one time thing'.....he tells himself firmly as he goes to bed with the literal root of the problem in front of him.

....Just a one time thing.

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Please tell me if y'all liked it and feedback is always appreciated.
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