rematch | ishman

CH: 5

Ishan could already hear the excruciating sound of someone singing off-key before he stepped inside the dressing room showers. “How can someone be a bad bathroom singer?” Ishan voiced mentally.

Shubman didn’t seem to have noticed the other entering. The steam-filled shower cubicle echoed with the gentle rush of water, the scent of soap lingering in the air. Lavender, Ishan noted. He let out an amused huff, and got in the next cubicle since the others were out of function. He kept forgetting to complain to the administration.

Ishan took out his own vanilla infused body wash and got to work. He shut his eyes and focused on humming a tune of his own, trying to block the obnoxious singing next door. Who even sang Bolo Ta Ra Ra while showering? One thing Ishan did not miss about Shubman was his deafening queue of Punjabi music. Well, Shubman could probably say the same for Ishan’s Bhojpuri music.

It got quiet after a while as the sound of rushing water abruptly ceased, replaced by the gentle patter of droplets cascading from the showerhead. Ishan halted his humming for some reason. It wasn’t a deliberate attempt to hide his presence (why would he do that?) but his voice faded on its own. He heard Shubman click open his door, his footsteps sounding as he moved away.

Ishan exhaled, and slowly returned to rubbing his body. He could moan, the way he felt his muscles relax under the hot water. His humming came back, a bit louder now, merging with whispered words until it formed a makeshift song.

Finally he reached for the faucet, allowing the flow of water to dwindle to a trickle before coming to a complete stop. He loosely wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out, the sensation of water droplets clinging to his warm skin. He shook his hair, feeling the water droplets scatter around him, then ran his fingers through his wavy bangs, tousling them gently. He smiled to himself, satisfied with the scent of vanilla wrapped around him.

His soul almost jumped out when he caught sight of Shubman's reflection in the mirror. Standing there, staring at him with an unreadable expression. Ishan felt his heart race as the silence dragged on. Shubman remained silent, all the while his eyes were fixed on Ishan.

Clearing his throat, Ishan tried to shake off the awkwardness as he approached the mirror as well, reaching for the hand dryer beside it. The tension grew thicker, with only the low hum of the dryer and Shubman’s heavy-lidded gaze that traveled from the tattoo just below Ishan’s collarbones, down to his pecs, then to his abs, and finally to the pale skin of his thighs peeking out from beneath the short towel.

Ishan felt oddly naked, watching Shubman’s eyes roam over his body. The dripping water from his hair trickled down his nape, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. It occurred to him that he too should return the favor and rake his eyes over Shubman (his mind turned it into a competition). So he stared at the boy through the mirror, his eyes ending up on Shubman’s abs, sculpted to leave girls wet. The towel around his waist was hung dangerously low. Ishan felt himself gulp as his eyes traced the beginning of the happy trail before quickly snapping back to meet Shubman’s gaze in the mirror.

Their eyes locked with an intensity that didn’t really make sense to either of them. Ishan turned around, breaking the barrier of the mirror to face Shubman directly. The latter licked his lips, possibly unknowingly. Ishan remained frozen on his feet, not knowing what exactly to do or say. Thankfully, it was Shubman who acted first. He turned around and left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Ishan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He looked at his own reflection– his cheeks flushed and pupils blown out. “What the fuck was that?” He whispered into the empty showers that still had some lavender in the air.