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Aman sighed, chapping the dried up nail polish on his fingertips. His mother had left a new sherwani for him—for his wedding tomorrow. His wedding to Kusum. The neighbour's daughter. A girl. It was 2 am in the morning, and he was waiting for the lights in the courtyard to go off so that he could sneak into Kartik's room to check on him. His Chachu had helped take a bruised Kartik into the guest room. The nights had started becoming colder in Allahabad.
An hour or so passed as he waited for things to go quieter outside. Soon, he heard his mother turn off the lights in the kitchen and walk into her room, bolting the door. Aman carefully stuffed some pillows under a blanket on his bed, and sneaked out of his room after intimating his sister that he was going to see Kartik and that she should take of the situation in case his father decided to show up to his room. He tiptoed to the guest room and found Kartik lying, with his face down on the cot, breathing softly. Aman stopped and noticed the way his chest shook as he breathed, possibly due to the pain of the beating.
“Kartik,” He crouched down next to the cot and reached out to his sleeping boyfriend. As soon as the cold tips of his fingers touched Kartik's warm forehead, he twitched and shivered.
Kartik's throat bobbed as he swallowed, “Aman,” he mumbled. The eyelids fluttered open and he looked up to see his very beautiful boyfriend staring down at him.
“Tu na, Kartik, kisi din mujhe heart attack se marwayega.” (You, Kartik, will kill me with a heart attack one of these days). Kartik chuckled, flashing the smile that Aman so dearly loved. Working his muscles for the laughter made his bruised body ache and he shuddered as the tingling sensation of pain spread through his body. “Aaja, uth, icepack laaya hoon,” (Come, I brought an icepack for you) he hooked his hands under Kartik's arms and pulled him up on the cot.
“Tere Papa ne dekh liya toh aur peetenge,” (If your father sees us, he’s going to beat me again) Kartik rolled his eyes. It was meant as a joke, as most things he said, but the state of his back and the mess that he and Aman had found themselves in hardly made it look like one. Aman gently patted his shoulder and climbed up on the cot behind Kartik. He pulled Kartik's hoodie from his shoulder and let it drop in the limited space between them. As the icepack touched Kartik's bruise, he clenched his teeth in pain and hissed.
“Your father has a firm hand,” he joked.
“Stop joking, Kartik,” Aman chided in a slightly irritated tone. “Aur koi nahi hai yahaan pe tere jokes pe hasne wala,” (There’s no one here to laugh at your jokes here!) he pressed the icebag firmly on the bruise to convey his anger to Kartik.
“Main jokes sirf tujhe hasane ke liye karta hoon,” (I only joke to make you laugh) Kartik shrugged, gently falling back on Aman's chest. The other man sighed. He dropped the icebag on the cot and snuggled his hands around Kartik's chest. He pressed his face in the crook of his neck and closed his eyes. The warmth of Kartik’s skin, the scent of his favourite cologne mixed with that of his body, and the way Kartik's heart thudded against his chest—Aman knew that there was no way he could ever live without this.
“Wapas chala jaa Kartik,” (Go back home, Kartik) he mumbled, clenching his teeth.
“Tujhe akele chhod ke nahi jaunga,” (I won’t leave you here) Kartik sighed. “Don’t worry, Aman. Tere Mummy Papa samajh jayenge,” (Your parents will understand) he added, unaware of the deal Aman had made with his family. “Tujhe bahot pyaar karte hai wo, aur samajh jayenge bas. Thoda patience rakh,” he assured. (They love you a lot, and they will understand. You just need to have patience.)
Aman closed his eyes and swallowed. Did he have the courage to tell Kartik about his marriage to Kusum? Did he have the courage to wear the sherwani and sit in the mandap without Kartik by his side? Did he have the courage to welcome Kusum in his life? The life that he had given half of to Kartik. Absent-mindedly, he picked up the icebag and pushed Kartik away. “Icebag lagane de,” (Let me put the icebag on) he shrugged, sniffing his thought away. Aman made Kartik lie down on the bed, with his back facing him. Kartik closed his eyes and let the cold ice soothe his pain away.
Anan momentarily left Kartik to fetch an ointment and returned to a very exhausted Kartik, almost on the verge of falling asleep. He quietly applied ointment to his bruises and woke Kartik up to make him wear his hoodie. Once he was done tending to his boyfriend, Aman got up to leave when Kartik pulled him back by his wrist.
“Yahi aaja,” (Come and sleep here) he asked. Aman closed his eyes and sighed.
“Kartik, kya bol raha hai?” (What are you saying?) he sighed.
“Kya bol raha hu? Mere paas sone bol raha hu?” (What am I saying? I am asking you to come and sleep with me?) he widened his eyes and gasped. “Boyfriend hai tu mera! And ye pehli baar toh hoga nahi!” (You are my boyfriend, and this won’t be the first time!)
“Kartik Papa ne dekh liya toh iss baar pata nahi kya karenge!” (If Papa sees us, I don’t know how he will react!) Aman took a deep breath, blasting his frustration out. “Pichhli baar dande se maara hai...iss baar...” he clenched his jaw and mumbled. “Mat kar ye sab!” (He used a stick last time. I don’t know what he will use this time round. Just don’t do this!)
“Kya na karu?” (What should I not do?) Kartik yelled back. “KYA NA KARU!” he grabbed Aman's shoulders and shook him. “Tere baap ko karne du uski manmaani? Karne du unhe tujhe force?” (Should I let your father dominate you? Let him force you?)
“Tu jaanta hai mere kehne ka kya matlab tha?” (You know what I meant!) Aman tilted his head and rolled his eyes. Kartik paused and closed his eyes. He knew what Aman's words implied. But he was not ready for the conversation.
“You want me to not love you,” Kartik gulped. Aman took a shaky breath and slumped his shoulder. He could not face that question. “Na karu tujhe pyaar?” (Should I not love you?) he asked again. Aman dropped his gaze to the floor and looked away.
“Mera matlab wo nahi tha, Kartik,” (That is not what I meant) he shook his head. “Aur ye tu bhi jaanta hai.” (and you know it.)
Kartik's hands slipped off from Aman's shoulder and he took a step back, placing some distance between them. Aman instinctively lifted his hands up to reach out to Kartik but stopped mid-air, pulling them back. “Na tujhse pyaar karna chhod sakta hoon, na tujhe apni family ko chhodne ko bol sakta hoon,” (I can’t stop loving you, or ask you to leave your family for me) Kartik swallowed, taking a deep breath. He realized something and that realization wasn’t a good one. He waved his hand, gesturing Aman to leave and turned around. There was no place for him with Aman's family (not for now at least) and if he pushed harder, he would have made Aman's family resent Aman and that’s the last thing he would ever want to the man who he was so deeply in love with. He couldn’t do to Aman what had been done to him. “Jaa, Aman, sojaa jaake,” he mumbled. (Go to sleep, Aman)
He pulled the blanket and dropped on the cot. The cooling sensation of the ointment calmed down his bruised nerves and he closed his eyes, not bothering to look back at Aman.
Aman stood frozen as he watched Kartik step back from him. He was the one who had asked Kartik to stop and now he was the one feeling broken because Kartik had listened to him. Once both of them stopped talking, silence befell the room. Aman couldn’t hear anything, except for Kartik's slow and heavy breathing. There was no sound of his father's disdain or his mother’s heartbreak. He was back in the familiarity of the life that he loved. The one with Kartik in it.
Maybe he didn’t have to think about his family tonight.
Maybe he could deal with them from the next morning.
Ensuring the door was shut and curtains drawn, Aman turned the lights off and sat down on the cot. Kartik shifted to move away from him. Aman wrapped his hand around his waist and stopped him with a hum. Kartik knew this gesture too well. That’s how to made up after an ugly fight. “What?” Kartik snapped, feigning anger. Aman rolled his eyes and a small smile appeared on his face.
How will he ever be able to live without this crazy man who he loved so much?
No, he didn’t have to think about this right now!
“Neend aa rahi hai!” (I want to sleep) Aman reached out and ruffled Kartik's hair with his fingers. “Chal, jagah de,” (Come on, give me space) he protested. Kartik quietly shifted to his side, leaving some space for Aman. The other man pulled at the single blanket they had, signalling Kartik to turn around.
“Idhar dekh,” Aman nudged. (Turn around. Look at me!) Kartik didn’t respond. Aman shook his head and snuggled into the blanket. He trailed his hand under Kartik's arm and hooked it under. “Sorry?” he asked, whispering in Kartik's ear. “Tu jaanta hai mujhe tere bina neend nahi aati,” (You know I can’t sleep without you!) he coaxed, breathing against the nape of his neck. Kartik turned around and cocked his head up.
“I hate you!” he arched a brow.
“I know. But I love you,” Aman smiled. He lifted his hands and carded the hair behind Kartik's ears. Kartik bent down and pressed his lips onto Aman's for a soft peck.
“Tu mera hai,” (You are mine) Kartik reiterated as they fell into each other's arms under the blanket, “aur jaisa bhi hai, mere liye kaafi hai!” he added. (and however you are, you are enough for me) Aman felt the warmth of Kartik's tears on his neck but he didn't speak up. He didn't have the words that Kartik needed to hear. He didn't have the reassurance he so wanted to give Kartik.
“Jaanta hu,” (I know!) Aman smiled, closing his eyes to fall asleep in his boyfriend's arms. That is all that he could say.