Project Heart - Chapter 22: Chapter 22

"I want to go with you," Lohor huffed. He had his hands folded over his chest and his brows were knitted into an ugly scowl.
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Dikhou threw his hands in exasperation. "You are not coming with me."
"Why not?"
"Because." He turned to the younger boy, massaging his temple. His bag was packed on the bed in front of him, with the dhool sitting next to it. "I'm going to Guwahati for work."
"Please. You'll play the dhool, someone will record it. That's not work."
"Lohor!" Dikhou cried, close to strangling the kid. It was bad enough that he was walking around with a huge pang of guilt pressing down on him, he did not want Lohor to add fuel to the fire.
Lohor hmphed and stomped his foot.
Dikhou sucked in a deep breath and went to kneel in front of the ten-year-old. "I'll take you to Guwahati next month, okay? We'll go to the amusement park together."
"You always say that but we never go!"'
Well... that was true. Lohor had been asking to go to the amusement park for a long time now. Being an orphan, living with his uncle's family who weren't too generous towards him, Lohor did not have anyone except Dikhou to fulfil his whimsical wishes like these. And Dikhou wanted to take him, he really did, but something or the other always came up.
This time, he was refusing to take Lohor because he was desperately hoping to get some alone time with Junak.
It was extremely selfish of him.
He hated himself for it.
"Enough, Lohor." Both Lohor and Dikhou looked up as the latter's mother walked in, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Lohor made a face and said, "But bor-ma–"
"He's going there with an outsider. And we don't impose on outsiders."
Dikhou tensed at her word choice and what she was implying, but he did not say anything.
"Dikhou says he'll take you next month, I'll make sure he does. How about that?"
Dikhou's mother's words apparently held a lot more weight because Lohor nodded enthusiastically. "Thank you, bor-ma." He flashed the woman a toothy grin, then turned to Dikhou and scowled. "I'm still mad at you."
Dikhou smiled and flicked his forehead. Lohor raised a hand, in warning, then ran out of the room.
Which left Dikhou alone with his mother.
And it terrified him.
Ever since that night, he had been living with a bomb clogged in his windpipe. He felt like he had committed a terrible crime and it was only a matter of time before someone found out. And once the truth was out, everything would explode.
"Are you done packing?"
Dikhou nodded.
There was no way his mother could find out, but the mere knowledge that he had done something she would never approve of tore at his conscience.
She stepped forward and dropped the bag she was carrying on the floor by the bed. It was bulging with stuff and Dikhou could see milk packets on top. "This is for Jiri. There are eggs on top so make sure you don't break them."
Dikhou eyed his mother. She wasn't a cheerful woman and, on most days, she carried a stern look on her face. He knew it was her weapon; she appeared scary so no one would consider her weak. But at times like these, he wished she would show some emotion, so he could get a glance at what she was thinking. "Ma..."
She raised a brow in question.
"You're not – uh." Fuck. "Are you annoyed that I'm going with Junak? Because if you say no, I – I won't go."
She shook her head, throwing up a hand in defeat. "Go. If I stop you, it'll be another hassle that I don't want to deal with."
Dikhou's guilty conscience wouldn't let him have the win – some part of him wanted her to stop him, as if in punishment, or to make the choice for him. "Are you sure?"
She rolled her eyes then, and he knew she was not angry. It only worsened his guilt. "Just drive slowly."
He nodded. He was sure he was going to be sick.
But then, a few minutes later, he was standing in Baruah koka's front lawn with Junak smiling at him and all felt right in the world.
"Why do you have so much stuff?" Junak chuckled. "Are you not coming back?"
Dikhou rolled his eyes. "This is for my sister. Foodstuffs in Guwahati are doused in chemicals, apparently."
"Huh. Makes sense; I never liked vegetables before coming here." Junak wrinkled his face in disgust. He was wearing a long beige coat over a loose white sweater and black pants. "Anyway, put your bags in the back." He threw the car keys which Dikhou barely managed to catch. "And you're driving."
That was probably not a very good idea because Dikhou hadn't slept well in two days – ever since that night – but Junak had already skipped away, towards his grandparents standing on the porch.
Dikhou hauled his bags in the back of the car, then turned to watch. Junak touched his grandparents' feet before rising to kiss his grandmother on the cheek and hugging his grandfather. He said bye to Jatin, Priti, Banhi and the two other women who had arrived a few days ago. For some reason, he did not speak to Niribili who stood at a side with her lips pressed into a thin line and brows pulled together.
"Did you and Niribili fight?" Dikhou asked once they were out on the highway. The sky was a clear shade of cerulean with the sun bright overhead.
Junak sat comfortably huddled in the passenger seat, leaning a little on the door so he could face Dikhou without straining his neck. He was wearing dark sunglasses as usual. "Yeah. Sort of."
"What happened?"
Junak waved a hand. "Something about the film. We'll sort it out in a day or two."
Dikhou frowned but did not press anymore.
Junak reached out to turn on the music system. "This is my long-drive playlist. Don't judge."
Zubeen Garg singing he wants to stare at his lover's eyes blasted through the speakers, making Dikhou chuckle. "You're kidding."
Junak beamed. Sunlight fell across a part of his face, shining his hair in faint hues of brown. Dikhou could've written poems on it, if he were that sort of a person. "For reasons I don't understand, my non-Assamese friends dig Zubeen-da. They take unnatural joy in listening to songs they don't understand."
Then he went on to talk about one of his college trips to Manali where the car broke down in the middle of nowhere and they thought they were going to die, but they didn't. They instead found a resort not listed on google, and Junak came up with great material to film.
Dikhou listened. He loved listening to Junak.
Once he was done with the story, Junak began singing along the song, snapping at Dikhou to join him and resting only after Dikhou hummed a little bit of the chorus.
It felt magical.
Dikhou was not a fan of long car rides, but he wished this one would never end.
Around two hours later, Junak announced that he was hungry and they needed to find a dhaba. And he did. A very expensive one.
The roadside restaurant was spanned over a large plot of land, an island in a sea of paddy fields. It was decorated with flowerbeds and fairy lights. The main building had a bamboo roof and was built atop stilts. Surrounding it were smaller booths fashioned after old bamboo huts with thatched roofs. There were also a few small ponds littered around the place.
The air was chilly as Dikhou climbed out of the car, locking it behind him. Junak stepped next to him and held out a hand.
Dikhou stared at it for a moment, his heart at his throat.
The place was mostly deserted, with one other car parked there. A few waiters and caretakers were going about their work but they paid no heed to the newcomers.
Dikhou looked at the road they had come through. Miles of grey asphalt between them and his village.
He took Junak's hand, interlacing their fingers, palms pressed together.
Junak smiled and led Dikhou into the dhaba, towards one of the empty booths.
"So..." Junak said once the waiter had left after taking their orders. They were sitting opposite each other, Junak with his elbows on the table, chin on his knuckles.
"So?" Dikhou's smile was reflexive.
Junak eyed him with his head cocked to the side. "You're being weird today."
Dikhou was surprised Junak picked it up; he had done his best to act like he was fine. Cool. Super okay. Not internally dying from guilt. "What do you mean?"
Junak spread his forearms on the table, slightly leaning forward. "Is something wrong?"
Great! "No." He tried to smile but Junak squinted at him, so he sighed and said, "Just... I'm not too excited to see my sister." It wasn't entirely false. After what he had done, with all the remorse ballooning inside of him, meeting Jiri was not something he was looking forward to.
"Oh. Um." Junak was playing with the salt holder. "I've been meaning to ask... well, I wanted to – but I didn't want to sound... weird or whatever." He let out a nervous chuckle. "But you know, you could come... stay with me. If you want. No one's going to be home. I mean," he looked up with wide eyes, "n-not – not that I'm implying anything. Just saying."
Dikhou's yes was right there at the tip of his tongue. His pulse quickened at the thought. Yes, yes, yes, I'll stay with you. There's nothing more I want.
"Uh, thanks." He smiled. "But I already told Jiri-ba I'd stay with her. If I back out now, she'll take offence and it will be a whole... thing."
Junak made zero efforts to hide his disappointment, that bastard. "Yeah. I get it."
Without thinking, Dikhou slid his hand across the table and caught Junak's fingers. "I'm sorry."
"Why are you – geez, don't say sorry." Junak slumped down on the table, resting his chin on his bicep. He eyed their intertwined hands and rubbed his thumb over Dikhou's knuckles. "You know, to be honest, I'm not too excited to go to Guwahati either."
Dikhou was not expecting that. "Really?"
"Why do you sound surprised? It's a shitty place. I have the worst memories there." He sighed and looked up at Dikhou. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Dikhou's heart lurched as the memories of a certain night – tell me a secret ­– returned to him. "Hmm?"
"All the years I was in Guwahati, I was pretending to be straight. Everyone around me was a class-A asshole." He looked down at their hands again. "I was even friends with a few bullies, go figure."
"Why?" Dikhou asked, then realised he already knew the answer. It was probably the same reason he smiled at the shitty jokes cracked by the guys in his village, why he never refused whenever they offered him a disgusting cigarette. "Never mind."
"No, it's okay. It was a long time ago and I'm over it. Mostly." Junak shrugged, then said, "Remember I said I had ten-or-so girlfriends? It wasn't because I liked them or anything, but mostly because it was the way to be cool, you know? To be popular, to have friends. To not be at the bottom of the food chain. Oof," he rubbed his temple, "I was such a typical cishet dude back then, with a guitar and everything." He chuckled, but it was dry. "You would've hated me."
Dikhou found that difficult to accept.
"So, yeah. Whatever. There's nothing left in Guwahati for me."
"Is that why you left?"
Junak nodded. "Best decision of my life. I met new people, learned new things. Unlearned a lot of shit too. It made me realise how big the world actually is, you know? There's a whole world out there waiting for us and we do find places where we belong. We do meet people we can call ours."
Dikhou did not like the way his heart constricted, the way he yearned. "Will you ever... come out to your parents?"
"Maybe." Junak smiled and caught Dikhou's gaze. "When I find someone I genuinely care about."
Dikhou felt like Junak would echo the question back at him and that terrified him because he knew his answer won't be pleasant.
But Junak didn't ask. He continued to run his thumb over Dikhou's fingers with a sad glint in his eyes. With a start, Dikhou realised Junak knew what he would've answered.
The ache in his chest felt like a physical blow.
He was glad when the food arrived – though a lot less glad that Junak let go of his hand – and Junak started ranting about how annoying it was that Assamese people ate rice all the time. Dikhou accused him of being a pseudo-foreigner and their banter that followed lightened some of the weight of the reality looming ahead of them.
It was nice. To not think about that. To take everything as he got because he knew it was not going to last for long.
They never did, the good things.
Just the way, despite all his impossible wishes, they left the highway and open fields behind and entered the city two hours later. It was cluttered and chaotic and they were stuck in traffic that seemed never-ending.
"I. Hate. This. City." Junak groaned, his forehead pressed against the dashboard. They were trapped in a sea of cars, buses and bikes, all haphazardly pushed together. Dikhou was pressing the brakes more than the accelerator.
"We'll get there, just a few more minutes."
Junak groaned, loudly and dramatically.
Dikhou smiled at him. He reached out and ruffled his hair.
Junak pouted and Dikhou had trouble looking away from his lips. "I don't want you to leave," he whined.
Dikhou forced a chuckle to hide his own longings. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"In the recording studio!" Junak cried miserably.
That Junak was whining about missing Dikhou felt strangely bittersweet. Dikhou had to pointedly keep his eyes out of the windshield. In the car in front of them, two kids were fighting in the backseat. In the car on his right, the woman sitting in the passenger seat was scrolling through her phone while the man behind the wheel was aggressively saying something. High rise buildings and shopping complexes rose out on either side of the road. And there were people moving in determined steps on the pavement, crossing the road, everywhere, all around them.
Dikhou suddenly felt claustrophobic. And unnervingly exposed.
"Dikhou." Junak's voice was so low and so... something, Dikhou felt a jolt of jitters running down his stomach.
"Hmm?"
The music was softly playing, a man singing: I don't know where we are in the grand scheme of things, but I just wanna be counting stars with you...
"I really want to kiss you," Junak whispered.
The amount of effort it took Dikhou to not lunge at him was something he would never be able to explain. He inhaled sharply and clenched his fists around the steering wheel. He kept his eyes on the stupid kids fighting in front of him, knowing he would be lost if he looked at the man sitting next to him, so close yet so impossibly out of his reach. "Me too, Jun."
"But we can't?"
Dikhou suddenly disliked Junak for asking that, like purposely poking at a wound. Of course, they could not. There were people all around them.
Junak let out a sigh and it was such a simple, heartbreaking thing, Dikhou felt faint. His hands shook. He gulped and said the only thing he could:
"I'm sorry."