Project Heart - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

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Dikhou barely managed to catch Junak as the latter collapsed, limp and heavy. And smelling really good for whatever reason.
"Go get help," Dikhou cried to Lohor who was already running down the yard of the nearest house. Dikhou got to his knees, gently lying Junak on the ground, his head on his thigh. "Please don't pass out after I made you run as part of a petty prank," he muttered, his eyes frantically searching Junak's face; he looked impossibly calm like he was just sleeping and not unintentionally plotting Dikhou's death sentence. "Everyone's going to have my head!"
Dikhou reached out to take off the woollen beanie Junak was wearing, and then fidgeted with the collar of his sweatshirt. "Why on earth are you wearing so many layers, it's not that cold!" Under the sweatshirt, there was a thin sweater over a shirt. He was sweating profusely underneath all the clothes.
As much Dikhou wanted to leave him and let someone else help, he could not afford Junak dying in his arms or something. So, sucking in a deep breath, he reached out to catch the hem of Junak's heavy sweatshirt and, as gently as he could, pulled it over his head.
Junak groaned and shifted slightly as the sweatshirt was brushed past his face but did not wake up.
"What's wrong?" a middle-aged woman who lived in the hut beside the road ran up to them, her mekhela raised up to her ankles. Behind her was Lohor, clutching a glass of water in his hands. "Isn't this Baruah bor-deuta's grandson?" The woman paled. Baruah koka, an ex-civil servant, was one of the most reputable men in the village and no one wanted to get on his bad side. Making his grandson pass out possibly qualified as getting on his bad side.
"Yeah." Dikhou took the glass from Lohor, poured some water on his palm and sprinkled it on Junak's face. "Wake up!" he hissed. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest he briefly wondered if he was going to pass out as well. With the wet hand, he lightly patted Junak's cheek; the skin was soft under his palm.
Junak's brows furrowed, then slowly, he opened his eyes.
Waves of relief rolled into Dikhou. He brought a hand to his face, heaving.
"What the–" Junak's voice was low and throaty.
Instead of answering, Dikhou reached out to hook an arm around Junak's shoulders and helped him sit up. He then took the glass of water from Lohor and held it to Junak's lips. Obediently, Junak cupped his hands around it, over Dikhou's fingers, and gulped down the water.
Dikhou watched, not daring to move a muscle. Junak was sitting between his knees, and with one of Dikhou's arms around his shoulders and the other trapped between his fingers, it almost felt like an embrace. He could smell the products he used – sweet and flowery – and from this up close, he noticed Junak was wearing a small silver earring along the rim of his ear that had a crescent moon dangling off it.
Dikhou smiled without quite meaning to.
Junak gulped down the water to the last drop.
"Thirsty, were you?" Dikhou said, unable to hide the amusement from his face.
It was like only then did Junak realise where he was. His eyes widened and he pushed Dikhou, scrambling away on his fours.
Dikhou had to bite his lip to suppress a laugh.
The woman knelt next to Junak, eyeing him like he was precious cargo. Or a bomb. "Are you okay?"
"I..." Junak looked from her to Lohor to Dikhou and then back to her. "Y-Yes, thank you."
What was he thanking her for when Dikhou was the one who did all the work?!
Letting out a deep sigh, Dikhou got to his feet. He had Junak's sweatshirt and beanie slung over his shoulder, and didn't miss the brief panic flitting through Junak's face when he realized he was wearing one less layer. It was impossibly endearing.
"Come on." Dikhou held out a hand. "Can you stand?"
Junak's eyes narrowed and he huffed like the other man had wronged him somehow. "Yes." He raised an arm and locked his fingers around Dikhou's, who then gently hauled him up.
Junak was slightly dizzy so Dikhou did not step too far back after letting go of his hold.
"What happened?" Dikhou asked.
Junak blinked, a hand resting on his forehead. "I don't – I don't know..."
"You ran a mile or so," Lohor piped in, very helpfully. "It was really funny."
Dikhou shot him a glare.
Junak's eyes widened like his actions were just now dawning on him. "You. You made me run!"
Ugh. Lohor was an idiot. Or a bastard. Dikhou knew he was a bit of both. "Technically, you made that choice."
"Because you wouldn't stop!" Junak cried. "I just wanted to talk," he added nimbly and all of a sudden Dikhou wondered if he was actually hurt.
He felt a pang of guilt in his chest.
"Whatever." Junak turned around and walked away along the way they had come. His head was downcast and his steps were small and wobbly.
"Are you going to let him walk?" Lohor asked, coming to stand beside Dikhou. "He'll pass out again. And ghosts are gonna get him."
Okay, maybe, that was starting to get a little old. Dikhou flicked Lohor on his forehead. "You go home."
"Where else will I go anyway?" Lohor made a face.
"I mean it."
"Yes, sir." Lohor rolled his eyes and turned away.
Dikhou thanked the woman who'd come running to help. She muttered something under her breath and returned to her house. Tomorrow, when the whole village would be talking about this, Dikhou was going to regret asking her help. But for now, he had more pressing matters to deal with.
He ran after Junak, catching up in a few, quick steps. "Wait, I'll give you a ride."
Junak kept walking, his gaze at his feet. "No, thank you."
Dikhou wanted to make him stop and remind him that he literally fainted a while ago. But then he remembered how he was the one who made him run all the way so kept his mouth shut.
Though, in Dikhou's defence, he really didn't expect Junak to follow.
But then again, that was the thing about Junak – he seemed to be hell-bent on defying expectations.
Dikhou fell into step beside him. The sun was starting to set behind them, casting long shadows and colouring the sky in many different hues. People were herding their cows back home. "What did you want to talk about?" Dikhou asked.
"Whatever."
The weight of this new-formed guilt made Dikhou angry. He was not the bad guy here! Junak was Niyor Baruah's son, the guy living some lavish life in America, who'd come here to take advantage of his grandparents' blind love. Junak, with his stupid, pretty face and fancy clothes got to be who he wanted, say what he wanted and do what he wanted while Dikhou was stuck here, buried so many feet under that he no longer knew the scent of fresh air.
So, no, Dikhou was not the bad guy here!
"H-How do you know my father?" Junak's voice was so low, Dikhou almost missed it.
Startled, he turned to him. "What?"
Junak repeated his question. Louder and firmer.
Dikhou wondered where he should start. He wondered how much Junak knew. He wondered how much he should even be saying. And how much was Junak going to believe anyway? "He's my... what do you call it? Godfather, of sorts."
It was clear Junak wasn't expecting that. He stopped short in his tracks. His eyes were wide and mouth agape as he looked at Dikhou.
Dikhou chuckled though it wasn't prompted by anything funny. "You didn't know."
Surprisingly, Junak echoed Dikhou's humourless laugh. "No." He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled through his mouth looking up at the sky. "Wow. That explains why you hate me."
Dikhou did not understand. He had not even given Junak the whole story. "I don't hate you," he said instead. He wanted to, but now when the words were laid out bare in front of him, he knew he did not hate him.
Junak scoffed as a reply. He hugged himself and kicked a pebble.
"Here." Dikhou held out his clothes to him, which he wordlessly accepted and continued walking. "Let me give you a ride. You really shouldn't be walking."
Junak pretended to not hear him.
"Hey." Almost on reflex, Dikhou reached out to hold Junak's arm.
The latter pulled away, hastily and roughly. "Why don't you just leave me alone, because that's clearly what you want," he shouted.
Kanson, the owner of the retail shop, was looking at them from where a stood a few metres away, eager for gossip. Dikhou's panic flared. "Please don't –"
"No, really, what do you want?" Junak cried, his voice too loud in that open space. "I - I just wanted to apologise to you, you didn't need to humiliate me."
"Junak–"
"If you hate me, then a-act like it, okay? I don't want to play your stupid games."
A few other people who were walking by stopped to stare.
"You're making a scene," Dikhou hissed, uncaring of the desperation seeping into his voice. He knew what was going to happen – Dikhou bullying Junak Baruah was going to be the latest talk of the town. Coupled with the fact that he made Junak pass out, and given their past family feud, Dikhou was fucked big time. "Please don't do this here."
Junak was still scowling as he looked to his sides. A small crowd had formed around them. Before Dikhou could plead anymore, Junak's glare turned into a bright grin. He laughed loudly and stepped closer to Dikhou. "How's my acting, eh?" he shouted for all to hear him and threw an arm around the other man. "It's for this new play I'm writing. It's going to be very dramatic."
Dikhou was momentarily too stunned to react.
"I took you by surprise, didn't I?" Junak said gleefully.
Realising what Junak was doing, Dikhou chuckled weakly and said, "Yeah. You're very good."
"I know." Junak made a dramatic show of flipping his non-existent long hair. He stepped back and said, "Come on. You were gonna give me a ride."
"Y-Yeah. Come on." Dikhou led Junak to where his bike was parked. By then, people started to disperse. They crossed Kanson on the way. "Hey, Kanson-da," Dikhou greeted.
Junak too said a quick, polite hello.
The man nodded and walked away.
Dikhou sat on his bike, his heart hammering in his chest. "Thank you," he whispered as Junak climbed up behind him, leaving ample space between them so they weren't touching.
"Whatever."
They reached Nildeep Baruah's house in less than five minutes. Dikhou turned off the engine and Junak got down from the bike. Wordlessly, he turned to walk away but stopped when Dikhou said, "Wait."
Dikhou was fidgeting with the keys plugged into the ignition. The keyring was a small, golden globe his eldest sister got for him from her honeymoon trip to Indonesia two years ago. "Thank you, really, for what you did."
Junak did not look back. But neither did he walk away. In a low voice, he said, "I'm n-not my father."
Dikhou felt the air get knocked out of his lungs.
"I don't care if you hate me, but I - I want you to know that I'm not - not like my father. And," Junak took in a deep breath as he turned around, "I'm sorry for whatever he did... or did not do... to you."
Dikhou felt dazed and slightly breathless, unsure of what to make of this. He wanted to be angry at Junak, but... he did not how. So, he just said, "I don't hate you." It did not look like Junak believed him so he added, "I just don't get you."
Dikhou meant it in a positive way, but the way Junak's expression crumbled made him wonder if it was the wrong thing to say. "I... no. No, no, I mean it in a good way," Dikhou added hastily, uncaring of how moronic he must be sounding.
Junak frowned slightly.
Dikhou sighed. "I don't know what I'm saying. Just..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry for pranking you."
"And yelling at me for no reason?" Junak prompted.
"And for yelling at you for no reason," Dikhou said, unsure of why exactly he was yielding to him. Because he did have a reason for yelling.
Though, now that he looked back, they did not seem too valid.
Great, he was losing his mind.
"And," Junak continued, "for making me run a gazillion kilometres just now."
Dikhou rolled his eyes. "It wasn't a gazillion kilometres."
Junak folded his hands over his chest and cocked his head to the side. With a start, Dikhou realized he was mimicking him. "I almost died."
Dikhou smiled, mirroring Junak and folding his hands. "Okay, how about this, then?" He was already almost regretting the words forming at the tip of his tongue but it was impossible to swallow them down. "I'll help you make your music and we'll call it even?"
Junak narrowed his eyes. "Will you leave me on a sand bed and walk away again?"
"Not if you don't offer to sleep with me again." Dikhou wasn't sure why he said it, it just slipped out of his tongue. Horror descended on him, but then he saw Junak fighting a smirk and raw relief flooded in.
"Hmm, sounds doable." Junak pursed his lips. "You're not my type."
Dikhou laughed then, ignoring the way his words stung, though they really shouldn't have.