Project Heart - Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Junak woke up at 7am sharp without any alarm. Next to him, Dikhou was sound asleep with one of his arms wrapped around Junak's waist.
The room was dark with the thick curtains filtering out most of the sunlight. Instead of the chirp of birds that Junak had gotten used to over the past few weeks, here, the only sounds greeting him were the swooshing of cars, the rumble of motorbikes and some kid crying. And of course, their neighbour's goddamn pressure cookers.
Junak wanted to stay in bed – he did not remember the last time he had woken up next to someone. Dikhou was warm and cosy and everything perfect. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips that Junak couldn't help but gently trace with a finger.
He remembered the first time he had met Dikhou, at the buffalo fight with Lohor perched on his shoulders. He was such an ass then, pranking Junak out of nowhere. He couldn't believe the same man was here, on his bed, swelling his heart to the point where it felt like it would burst.
"Why are you up so early?" Dikhou murmured without opening his eyes. "I thought urban kids slept till noon."
They did, but over these weeks Junak's body had gotten accustomed to a new schedule of waking up early, having tea with Grandpa, then breakfast with everyone else, and on and on and on. Junak traced his finger along Dikhou's cheek, over his jaw. "Why are you not up yet? I thought rural kids wake before dawn."
Dikhou smiled drowsily.
"Sleep." Junak kissed his forehead the way Dikhou had done for him last night. "I'll make breakfast."
Dikhou muttered something incomprehensible as Junak untangled himself from his arms and got up from the bed. He shivered slightly in the cold and almost went back to cuddling inside the blankets when he noticed Dikhou's hoodie neatly kept on the back of his desk chair. Smiling to himself, Junak put it on... and maybe spent two minutes sniffing it like a complete creep but whatever, it was nice and he hadn't had someone's clothes to sniff in a long, long time.
Making breakfast sounded extremely romantic in his head but proved a lot harder in reality when Junak walked into a near-empty kitchen. With him - the only resident of this ghost town - gone for weeks, there was of course nothing edible left in the house, except useless bottles of beer in the fridge.
Groaning and huffing, he pocketed his wallet, pulled on his shoes and walked out of the house. The city was colder than he had remembered; his breath steamed and he regretted not wearing a beanie. He pulled Dikhou's hoodie closer to himself and jogged to the nearest store. People, in workout clothes, were walking around in groups of two or three, and the street was filled with cyclists. Nobody greeted him, not even the woman who lived next door, but he couldn't really blame her – he hadn't been here for over five years now and even before that he wasn't exactly sociable with his neighbours. It was weird how that thought made him a little sad now; he blamed the residents of Nonrong for making him unnecessarily soft like this.
When he was back, carrying a large polythene bag in hand, Dikhou was up and waiting for him. It annoyed Junak a little that his plan to get him breakfast in bed was ruined, but then Dikhou walked up to him and kissed him so Junak was going to count that as a win.
"Nice hoodie," Dikhou said.
"Thanks. I have good taste."
Dikhou smiled in a way that should not be legal and leaned against the wall on his shoulder, hands folded over his chest, in a way that definitely should not be legal. Junak tore his gaze away and dumped the things on the kitchen counter. "Tea or coffee?"
"Tea."
Junak made a face. Making tea was not one of his finer skills but now that he had oh so confidently asked, he would have to –
"I'll make the tea," Dikhou offered, pushing off the wall. He was wearing a thin, full-sleeved, t-shirt and sweatpants and was barefoot. Without thinking, Junak offered him his own slippers and went to his room to get another pair for himself. When he returned, Dikhou held up a packet of cornflakes and then raised a brow mischievously. "When you said make breakfast, I thought you will make breakfast."
Junak pouted, playing along. "I'll boil the milk. That counts."
Dikhou grinned. "If you say so."
They made breakfast together – as promised, Junak warmed the milk to go with their cereal, while Dikhou made tea, and then insisted it wasn't enough so he made omelettes as well – working in effortless sync that made Junak wonder, for one crazy moment, what it would be like to live with Dikhou, to do this every day, to not wake up alone on a cold bed, or fill up the silence in his life using Spotify.
It was a dangerous thought that he failed to not entertain the whole time they sat and ate breakfast and got ready to go to the recording studio.
"The guys will meet us there?" Junak asked, climbing into the car, behind the wheel.
Dikhou hummed in agreement. "Your singers?"
"They'll be there."
They were the first ones Junak and Dikhou stumbled upon when they reached the recording studio – an ordinary-looking middle-class duplex house tucked in a small lane lined with three-storey buildings. Two women were standing on the lawn next to a small but clearly new car. Junak's heart warmed at the sight and he nearly fell off his own car in his haste to get to his friends.
"Oof, it's been so long!" Mihira cried, pulling him into a half hug. She still looked the way she did five years ago, except her hair was a neck-length bob cut and she wore a fashionable kurta that the high-school Mihira would've made faces about.
"Gosh, I missed you." Kalka hugged him next. Last he had seen her, she was the prim and proper teachers' favourite first-bencher. Now she was a goth queen in a leather jacket and dark kajal and eyebrow piercings.
"I missed you too, and you both look so gay, you should totally date," Junak said all at once.
Mihira threw an arm around Kalka. "You think we wouldn't if we could?"
"I swear, I'd give anything to be gay," Kalka added. "I'm sick of men."
"And I want to hear all about it today." Junak turned to Dikhou who had come to stand next to him, all polite and shy and basically the Dikhou everyone usually went gaga over. "Ladies, this is Dikhou. Dikhou this is Kalka and Mihira, our singers and the only two people from school whom I can still tolerate."
Mihira gasped. "Tolerate, he says."
"Yup." Kalka nodded. "We're done, bye."
"No," Junak cried, then laughed. He stepped between them, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. "I missed you."
"Still as cheesy as ever." Kalka patted him on the gut. "Come on, Radha is waiting for us. Let's go make a song that will get us thrown out of this state." She stepped out of his hold and walked into the house. Junak and Mihira followed, still tucked side by side.
As Junak stepped over the threshold, he looked back at Dikhou to ensure he was following. Dikhou had a complicated frown on his face, but then he caught Junak's gaze and gave him a reassuring smile.
Glad, Junak returned him a flying kiss.
Dikhou, clearly flustered, looked away.
The rest of the musicians arrived soon after with their instruments and quiet chatter. There were five of them in total. Junak had never met them before – with Dikhou always acting as the middleman – but they quickly warmed up to him, though they were mostly shy and did not talk much; Junak certainly preferred them a lot more than the assholes he had met in Nonrong.
The recording went smoothly, with Junak just comfortably sitting in the control room with Radha and watching everyone else do the work. Especially Dikhou who was like so hot with a dhool, Junak felt ridiculously turned on.
"Where'd you find them?" Radha asked. "They're good."
Junak felt extremely proud though the compliment was certainly not directed at him.
"Bitch, I can't believe you wrote this song," Kalka said from the live room.
Junak leaned forward over the mixing console and pressed a key to speak to her. "In a good way or bad way?"
"Certainly a good way," Radha mused, just as Kalka said, "Good way, man. This is – I can't believe I'm singing a Bihu song! Ma will be so proud – oh wait. Fuck, I can't make her to listen to it. Ugh, fuck homophobia."
"Okay, ladies, let's take a five-minute break," Radha said into the mic, then turned to Junak. "Seriously speaking though, kid, when you told me you wanted to record a Bihu song, I thought you'd finally lost your mind."
"Hey–"
"Don't try to deny it, we both know you're crazy. Remember that time you wanted to make a rap song on a famous folklore?"
"Oh my god." Junak hid his face in his hands. "That was such a bad idea, please don't remind me."
Radha chuckled, clicking her tongue. She was a thirty-something-year-old woman Junak had met at a concert in Goa a couple of years ago. A mutual friend's friend's friend had introduced them and they bonded instantly over their shared dislike of Guwahati and its people. She was hands down the best and most badass DJ of Assam but not surprisingly, very few people saw it that way. "On a more serious note," she pointed at her mixing console, "what you have here is actually good, you know? But you have to be careful. This is... this won't sit well with the people."
Junak sighed, leaning back on the chair. "How offended do you think people will be?"
Radha mimicked his gestures. "If I sing a Bihu song while not wearing a mekhela sador, I will be on the news headlines for a week. And that is a prick of the needle compared to what we are making here."
"That sounds bad."
"It is. You will get a lot of backlash, I hope you're up for it."
Junak nodded. He had had weeks to come to terms with it; and his only solace was that he was going to return to America and that was where his film will be screened; hopefully, none of the Assamese people back home would ever find out. Still, it was too big a risk, especially at this age of omnipresent internet. "What about you? Will you be in trouble for helping me?"
She raised a brow, her lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "Junak, I'm a queer, female DJ from a minority community in one of the most neglected states in India. It won't be anything I can't handle."
Junak did not know what to say to that so he said nothing.
It was late in the evening when they were finally done with the song. Junak, swelling with pride and ecstasy, declared he was going to treat everyone to dinner. Radha politely declined – saying something along lines of I'm too old for your pretentious café bullshit – but the rest made their way to a beautiful rooftop restaurant overlooking the Brahmaputra. It was chilly, but with all the people, laughter and booze, and the sense of creating something that had never been made before, was making them flush with joy.
"Oh, oh, oh and remember when Kajol Ma'am threw you out of the classroom." Mihira laughed.
Junak nodded through a mouthful of spaghetti. "She made me kneel in the corridor for a whole period. She thought it'd be humiliating–"
"But it made you an attractive bad boy in Barsha's eyes, I remember," Kalka completed the sentence, rolling her eyes. "Man, the girls back then had such bad taste."
"I wonder where Barsha is now."
"Last I heard, she was in Dehradun," Mihira said.
"Hey, isn't Sasha also in Dehra?" Kalka asked.
The food in Junak's mouth turned bitter. He was suddenly acutely aware of Dikhou sitting beside him, but thankfully he was talking to one of the guys sitting on his other side.
Mihira elbowed Kalka. "We don't talk about her. Sorry, Jun."
He forced a smile. "It's okay."
"I, for one, am so glad you broke up with her." She dumped him, but Junak did not correct Mihira. "She was a manipulative bitch who gaslighted you all the time."
Junak poked the pasta with his fork.
"And look how well you're doing now!" Kalka said. "She must be writhing in jealousy."
"Knowing her? Totally," Mihira added.
Junak snorted. He took comfort in the way Dikhou's knee was faintly pressed against his.
"But seriously," Kalka slammed her palm on the table, "you did such a good job on the song. Guys, a toast for Junak, please." She raised her glass, urging everyone else to copy her.
Junak felt Dikhou's gaze on him as they did a weird, uncoordinated toast for the song that was most likely to get all of them in trouble. But hey, small victories.
Mihira took a sip of her drink and said, "All that village fresh air must have done some magic, huh? It's so fucking romantic, fireflies and whatnot."
Junak's face felt hot. He involuntarily looked at Dikhou but the latter had gone back to his conversation with the guys. Junak did not know if he was relieved or slightly upset.
"You know," Kalka said, "I thought you were kidding when you said you were actually going to an actual village for inspiration."
Junak shrugged. "You know I don't half-ass anything. And besides, I really do like it there."
Both Mihira and Kalka's brows shot up. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. It's peaceful and nice and I like the people."
The two women exchanged a glance, then Kalka said, "Don't tell me you're planning on staying there?"
Junak rolled his eyes, laughing. "Stay there and do what? Farm?"
"A little mud might look good on you," Mihira piped in.
"Still kinky as ever, I see?"
Mihira winked at him flirtatiously, then said, "How long are you staying there then?"
"Two more weeks maybe. Now that the music is done, we only need to shoot the film."
"Your area of expertise," Kalka raised a glass.
"I've got Niri and Banhi. They're the best at what they do."
"I hear about Niri so much, I'd love to–"
Dikhou suddenly pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, interrupting all conversations at the table. "Sorry," he muttered, strangely tense. Before Junak could figure out what was going on, Dikhou walked away, strictly avoiding his eyes.
Junak frowned as he watched Dikhou round a corner and vanish from his sight. Something was definitely bothering Dikhou, from the day they got here – no, from before, in fact, now that Junak thought about it – but he did not know how to –
"Jun!"
Junak turned to his friends with a lame, "Huh?"
"I was asking you about Niribili," Mihira said. "Most of what I've heard of her are the rumours Sasha had spread, so I know for a fact they're wrong."
Junak felt a little dazed, half his mind on Dikhou, the other half desperately trying to not go back to his wrecked past. Or maybe it was just the slight alcohol in his system and the euphoria of his success that was making him a little high. Whatever it was, he sat there and told his school friends about Niribili, Banhi, and his life in the university, though all he was thinking about was Dikhou Dikhou Dikhou...
When ten minutes passed and Dikhou still did not return, Junak finally excused himself and went looking for him.
He spotted Dikhou leaning on a balcony railing, a little away from all the people. There was a yellow lamp next to him that bathed him in bright hues and sharp shadows. He was holding a beer bottle in one hand, while the other had a phone pressed to his ear.
"I can't – I don't want to talk about it over a call," he was saying, his voice low but laced with what sounded like exhaustion.
Junak came to a halt a couple of feet away from him.
"Tomorrow. I'll be home tomorrow, won't I?" A pause. "No, of course - ... yes. I know." He closed his eyes and Junak could distinctly see the way he swallowed. "I know. I – listen, Ma, Jiri-ba has never met Junak so I don't appreciate her passing judgements on him."
Junak nearly did a double-take. His heart climbed up to his throat, almost choking him.
"I know that, Ma." Dikhou let out a sigh, slouching on the railing. The beer bottle dangled over the edge. "I'll talk to you tomorrow when I get home, okay?" There was a long pause, after which he whispered "Bye" and hung up.
Junak stood frozen. He could not forget the way Dikhou looked when he showed up at his place last night – Junak had been happy to see him, to have him, and that kind of made him not put as much thought to Dikhou's problems as he should have. And now, from what he just heard, it was obvious that he was somehow the reason Dikhou was so upset.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck. Niribili had called it, didn't she? Dikhou was... well, clearly not out and Junak did not think he was going to be anytime soon. Maybe Junak should have been more cautious. He did not want Dikhou to get into trouble. Not for this. Not because of him.
"How long have you been standing there?"
Junak nearly bolted but knew that was not going to help anyone. Hesitantly, he went to stand beside Dikhou. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to overhear."
Dikhou did not say anything. He was not even looking at Junak. He took a sip of the beer.
"I... are - are you in trouble? Because of me?"
"No," Dikhou whispered.
Junak's hand trembled as he reached out to touch Dikhou's fingers resting on the cold railing. Dikhou pulled away instantly, as if it burned him. He even took a step away from Junak.
It felt like a grand, hurtful, personal insult, but before any negative feelings could take root, Junak reminded himself of how he used to be like that too, before he had come out. There were people around, and Dikhou was just scared. And upset. It wasn't personal.
It wasn't personal.
It wasn't personal!
"Dikhou–"
"I'm sorry, Jun." Dikhou ran a hand over his face. "It's just – I..."
"It's okay."
Neither spoke for a while after that. They just stared out at the city twinkling like stars in front of them.
"Dikhou..."
"Hmm?"
"Do you want to... maybe, stay here? For another day or two?"
Dikhou inhaled sharply and let it out deeply. "I can't."
It was starting to hurt Junak, whatever was hurting Dikhou. It was also starting to get to him how Dikhou was almost adamantly pushing him out. He just wanted to help. "Dikhou."
"What, Jun?" He... did not quite snap, but he sounded impatient, and that stung more than Junak would've liked to admit.
It's not personal, Junak told himself and gulped in a deep breath. He wasn't sure if it helped, but he did know that staying here on this goddamn balcony was certainly not helping either of them. "Do you want to go back to my place?"
For the first time since this strange conversation had started, Dikhou turned to look at him. It was written all over Dikhou's face, his yes, yes, yes!
Junak managed a smile and what he hoped was a casual shrug. "We can ditch them."
Dikhou suddenly sounded breathless as he said, "Yes, please."