Project Heart - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

If anyone's uncomfortable at any point, leave a comment or DM me and I'll give you a gist of what's important to the plot.
Junak made a schedule and kept himself busy. It was his coping mechanism, and right now, all he needed to do was cope. It will pass, he told himself. Everything is going to be fine.
In the mornings, he went to the hospital. His grandfather had woken up soon after Junak's breakdown, smiling a weak smile and assuring him in a weak voice that he was okay. It did little to calm Junak because the doctors told him his grandfather had a history of coronary artery disease, which worsened with age. His heart attack was unexpected and would've spelt trouble if he hadn't reached the hospital on time. They needed to keep him there for at least a week.
Despite Junak's insistent volunteering, Jatin was the one who stayed with Grandpa most of the time, including the nights. Aita needs you more, Jatin told him. And it was true.
The old woman tried to keep up a strong façade but Junak could see how heavily this was weighing on her, so he stayed by her side as much as possible.
In the mornings, he had breakfast with his grandmother, then went to the hospital carrying meals for Jatin and Grandpa. At noon, he would return to have lunch at home. In the evenings, Dikhou went to the hospital so Junak had added incentive to stay away.
Seeing Dikhou hurt. Not that he saw much of him. Dikhou stopped coming over and the only times Junak saw him were brief glimpses from across the fence or when Dikhou came to check on Grandma. He would politely acknowledge Junak, never maintaining eye contact for more than a second. The wide chasm between the two was raw, glaring and absolutely painful.
Junak did not know how to stop the hurt.
Niribili did not say I told you so. When Junak first staggered back to the house, she had merely pulled him into a hug, not saying anything. She did not ask him what happened with Dikhou, though it was obvious she knew.
Banhi, being Banhi, tried her best to cheer him up but she might as well have been entertaining a brick wall; Junak barely had the strength to get out of bed, let alone pretend to smile.
Prapti and Megha stayed in the house, Junak did not know why. He had no idea what would happen to his film. He did not care. It felt so silly and insignificant.
If his friends were irritated at his lack of interest, they did not show it.
Junak did not know how long it would last. Thinking about the future, or rather, thinking about anything, hurt too much, required a lot of energy, so he just focused on his actions, minute after minute after minute.
Things took a turn for the worse on the third day. Junak almost felt it coming, when he returned from the hospital and saw an SUV parked in front of his grandparents' house.
"I'm so happy to see you, oh god!" Junak heard his grandmother before he stepped into the drawing room.
There, sitting on a couch with his legs sprawled out in front of him like he owned the place, was his asshole of a brother, Puhor Baruah.
He smiled on seeing Junak. "Hello, baby brother!"
Red hot rage coursed through Junak's veins. If it weren't for that asshole, Dikhou would not have left!
And none of this would've happened.
Junak shoved past Puhor, ignoring his grandmother calling after him, and marched up the stairs. He got into his room – his father's room – and slammed the doors shut behind him.
He was too tired to deal with whatever bullshit Puhor was bringing with him.
His father had called him back that night, after Junak's outburst, but Junak did not pick up. His father tried four more times before giving up.
Junak had stared at the missed calls for a long while before letting out a scream and pushing his father's typewriter as hard as he could off the table. He then spent the next thirty minutes sobbing on the floor.
There was a knock on the door. "Junak," came his brother's voice.
He did not answer.
"Junak, please. We need to talk."
Silence.
"Papa sent me here, Jun. He's worried about you."
All of Junak's anger melted away, just like that, so easily, it almost enraged him. He opened the door.
Puhor was not smiling. He looked concerned. The last time Junak had seen him like this was when Junak was in third grade and got bullied by a few seniors; Puhor and his group of friends had broken their noses, before walking to the principal's office with their heads held high.
"Why are you here?" Junak asked, side-stepping to let Puhor in.
"Told you." Puhor eyed the room, the broken typewriter on the floor under the table, before finally letting his gaze settle on Junak. "Papa asked me to come."
Junak scowled.
Puhor sat on the edge of the bed. "You're mad at me?"
Junak gritted his teeth.
"Why?"
That Puhor, the imbecile, sounded clueless angered Junak beyond his own understanding. "You scared him away!"
"What?"
"If you hadn't barged in like a... like a... whatever! If you hadn't barged in, Dikhou would not have left!"
"The guy that you-?" Puhor frowned first, then his eyes widened in understanding. "Whoa. Okay. Wow." He shook his head incredulously. "How was I – it's my house, Jun. You can't accuse me of returning to my own house when you're the one who should've been more careful."
"Since when is it your house?" Junak shouted. "You're never there!"
"Well, neither are you."
"Because you're never there!"
Puhor had the dude-you're-crazy look on his face. "That makes no sense."
Junak let out a strangled cry. He caught the sides of his hood and pulled, the cloth straining against his head. He was so mad and so frustrated and so tired. So, so tired.
Puhor was on his feet. "Jun, stop. Stop. What's wrong?"
"Everything," Junak screamed.
Puhor's eyes were wide, his face pale. He extended his hands like he was trying to tame a wild animal. "Calm down. Take deep breaths. Come sit with me and tell me what's going on–"
"No!" Tears blurred Junak's vision. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to act like that you care. Because you don't! No one does. No one!"
"What do you mean act like I care? That no one cares?" Puhor's eyes hardened. "I do care about you, Jun, you're my brother."
"Please. Name one instance when you were there for me!"
"Oh, you want to play this game?" Puhor crossed his arms and took a step back. "When was the last time you were there for me?"
Junak felt hollowed out and suspended over a cliff. He opened his mouth, gulped in a cold, dry lungful of air, and then closed it shut.
"See? You don't get to play the victim card. It takes two to form a relationship."
"No! You... you – you left me first!" He left like a primary schooler, making baseless accusations, but he did not care. It was not his fault. And he would not let his brother convince him otherwise.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Puhor said sarcastically. "Should I have dropped school to babysit my brother? That's not my job, Jun."
"Yeah, because the people whose job it was were never there either, so I'm sorry if I feel a little abandoned!"
"Is that a jab on Ma and Papa?"
Junak glared at him. Or at least tried to, with all the tears making him look weak and pathetic!
"Wow. You're still the same, I see." Puhor returned him the glare. "Grow up. Ma and Papa did everything for you. Papa manages a large business, Jun. And Ma, would you have her leave her job, waste her career, to sing you lullabies? That's incredibly progressive of you."
Junak stumbled back against the door, the knob jutting into his spine. He was spiralling, his mind a chaos of accusations. It all said: see? Your fault. It's all your fault. You're the fuck-up, Junak.
He wanted to strangle his brother. Or himself. "I... I hate you."
Puhor clenched his jaw, but his eyes softened. "What is going on with you?"
Junak was sinking. He was grasping for a handhold but all he caught were fistfuls of sand. Everything was pressing in against him and he couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't think...
He pulled open the door and stumbled out of the room. He then turned and ran, down the stairs, across the house. He heard Puhor calling after him, saw his grandmother's look of bewilderment as he passed her by, but he did not stop. He ran outside and kept running.
He did not know where he was going. He just ran, like that would somehow fix everything. He ran and ran and ran. He remembered the time he had run after Dikhou and passed out and woken up in his arms. He remembered lying together in bed, Dikhou telling him he felt like the moon. He remembered Dikhou's squared shoulders as he walked out of his house.
It hurt. So much.
Junak furiously wiped his eyes and kept running. He only stopped when his body could not carry him anymore; he doubled over and gasped for breath. His lungs were burning, his limbs felt unsteady. He wondered what would happen if he died there, like that.
Would Dikhou miss him? Would his family?
Would anyone?
He was near the river, but it was an area he had never been to before. Instead of a sandy beach, there were large rocks jutting out from the bank and looming over the river. Opposite the river was a thick bamboo forest. There were no houses nearby nor was there a single person in sight.
Junak stumbled towards the river and climbed up on one of the rocks. The sun was bright overhead, mockingly cheerful in the face of Junak's gloom. The air was cold.
Junak hugged himself and sat down on the rock. It was perfectly smooth, with intricate patterns weaved into its surface.
He could not get Puhor's words out of his head. Some part of him already knew that. He was selfish, and he did keep playing the victim over and over again. Everything that had ever happened to him was because of him – his actions, his choices, his behaviours - yet he continued to blame other people.
He deserved to finally be hurting like this.
He contemplated going back to America. But he could not leave without making sure his grandfather was okay. Going back now also meant giving up on the Diamond Jury Award and, though it no longer meant anything to him, he could not bring himself to betray Niribili and Banhi. He had already bothered them enough.
Maybe he could resign. He would give them the song and let them finish it however they see fit. Junak would not have his name associated with their team anymore, and once his grandfather was discharged from the hospital, he would take the first flight back to –
"Look who we have here!" came an unknown voice, followed by the sound of heavy, uncoordinated footsteps.
Junak's head snapped up to see a group of six young men walking towards him. They had unruly hair, wore ugly jeans and had cigarettes hanging from their lips or fingers. Junak vaguely identified two of them from an encounter that felt like it had happened a lifetime ago.
Junak jumped to his feet as they neared.
"Hello, Junak," a guy with long hair said. "A little far from home, aren't you?"
Dread crept into him as they walked closer and closer until they stood at the base of the large rock, blocking off his exit.
"Shit, man, were you crying?" one of them said – he was the Tall-Guy Junak had met many days ago. Next to him was Round-Face. "Look, he's crying!" A few laughed, others snickered.
Junak wiped his face on the back of his sleeves and stood up taller, trying to not let his fear show on his features.
"I've heard gays are pussies like that." Long-Hair wrinkled his nose at Junak. "You're one of them, aren't you? A gay?"
Junak did not reply. Behind him was the river, several feet deep and heavy with currents.
"I heard some gays are actually girls," another guy added. "Why don't you take off your pants and show us what you are."
The fear was like a cold, slimy creature crawling over him, chilling his bones, numbing his limbs. Very slowly, he slid his hand into his pocket and grabbed his phone. He pressed the lock key thrice, hoping Niribili would be there on the other end to get his emergency alert.
"Nothing to say today, huh?" Tall-Guy taunted. "You were so mouthy that day when Dikhou was around."
"Yes, about that," Long-Hair said, cocking his head and crushing his half-finished cigarette under his feet, "what's up with you and Dikhou anyway? Did you infect him with your..." He made a face of disgust and gestured at Junak's body.
"No," Junak hissed.
"Ah look, he found his voice!" Round-Face chuckled.
"At Dikhou's mention?" Tall-Guy raised a brow. "Are you two fucking or something?"
"P-Please." Junak's hands were shaking though he tried to keep them fisted at his sides. "D-Dikhou is an idiot. I keep him around because I need him to make the music for me. I dangle some money in front of him and he'll do anything."
The guys looked momentarily stunned at Junak's words. Then Long-Hair scoffed. "Wow. Like father like son, huh?"
"Eh." The one beside Long-Hair shrugged. "Dikhou is an idiot. Wagging his tail for anyone who gives him a bone."
Junak felt a tinge of anger, but it was overwhelmed by the white-hot fear clinging to his bones. Eating him from the inside.
"Guess we'll be doing him a favour then." Long-Hair took a step forward, onto the rock. "We don't want filth like you in our village; we've tolerated enough."
"If – if – if you h-hurt me, my – my grandfather–"
"Your grandfather what? He's a lonely old man on the sickbed who's gonna die one of these days. And besides," Long-Hair spread out his hands and looked at his companions, "there's no proof we did anything to you."
Junak desperately looked for an escape but there was none. And in no possible scenario would he be able to get past six of those men; four of them were bigger than him, and the most he knew was how to land one straight punch at an immovable object. He was hopelessly overpowered.
Long-Hair sneered and took another step towards Junak. "Jump."
Fear, unlike anything Junak had ever felt before, shot up his spine, freezing him in place. "W-What?"
Long-Hair advanced on him, his lackeys following. Junak took an involuntary step back.
"Jump. Into the river."
Everything turned hazy. Upside down. It's not real, he told himself. It's not real, it's not real. It can't actually be happening.
"Jump." With every step Long-Hair took, Junak took one step back. "Before we make you. You won't like it if we do."
Junak was almost at the edge. He looked over his shoulder – though he knew how to swim, it was a perilous fall down and the current was too fast. He knew he would not survive.
The guys did too.
Junak was not religious, but he prayed then. For someone, something, anything! He did not want to die, not there, not like this. Please. Please, please, please.
"Are you going to jump or not?"
"I don't think he's hearing us," Round-Face snickered, then advanced with arm outstretched to push Junak off the rock.
Time seemed to slow down. Junak felt a rough bout of breeze against the back of his head and heard the roar of the water from below.
And everything numbed. His fear was so cold, it burned away everything until Junak was left an empty shell. It was strangely calming, the acceptance. He was going to die. There. Like that.
And no one was going to miss him.
And it was okay. It would all be okay in the end.
"JUNAK!"
Round-Face froze, his palm inches away from Junak's chest.
"HEY!! GET AWAY FROM HIM, MOTHERFUCKERS! I WILL RIP YOUR FUCKING HEADS OFF!!"
Junak barely registered the new voice and the two people who came running towards him. He barely noticed the guys backing away and scattering into the woods.
His legs gave out and he sagged onto the rock. A pair of thin, warm arms circled his shoulders.
"It's okay, it's okay," Niribili said, rubbing her hands on his back. "You're safe now. You're okay."
Junak collapsed against her chest; his breath hitching, his tears blinding his vision. He was shivering. He held her close, his fingers digging into her sweater, like he was drowning and she was the only thing keeping him anchored.
He clutched onto her and cried.