Project Heart - Chapter 29: Chapter 29

The thing about falling for someone was that, at the time, it made you feel invincible. That you and your feelings could take on the whole world and sagas would perhaps be written about it one day. It was a kind of high.
And highs were, at the end of the day, drug-induced illusions that ended. They crashed and shattered.
Dikhou felt crashed and shattered. Hollowed out. Tired. And stupid. All at the same time.
And to make matters worse, Kopili cheerfully announced, "Jiri-ba is coming today." She might as well have said: game over, you idiot.
Jiri hadn't spoken to him since their argument at her house. She hadn't even replied to his apology-texts. Dikhou thought she would come around in time, but physically visiting the village, out of the blue, could only mean trouble.
In an effort to clear his head, Dikhou stepped out of the house and noticed an SUV in his neighbour's front yard, parked next to Junak's car.
"Puhor is here," Dikhou's mother said from where she was sitting on the porch, reading a book.
"Puhor?"
"Niyor's eldest."
Right. Him. Flashes from a night Dikhou desperately wanted to forget returned to him and all he could do was gulp them down and walk away before his mother noticed any suspicious changes in his behaviour.
It had been hard, these last few days. He did his best to avoid Junak but with them being neighbours and Baruah koka being in the hospital, it was inevitable that they crossed paths. And it felt like a dagger was plunged into his heart each damn time.
"Motherfucking assholes-"
Dikhou froze, in the middle of the street, and turned around just in time to see Junak's elder brother marching towards him.
Puhor had the same light skin, softly arched eyes and long nose as Junak but that was where the similarities ended. Unlike Junak, Puhor was huge - towered over Dikhou with a few inches - and had the build of a guy who regularly hit the gym and... hit other things. His hair was long and tied back in a bun.
Puhor was cursing non-stop, but thankfully, not at Dikhou. In fact, he almost walked past him but then stopped as recognition flashed through his eyes.
"You!" he barked. His face was matted with an ugly scowl, his anger practically radiating off of him. "It's you, right?"
Dikhou wasn't sure if Puhor was going to punch him or out him, but he would take the former if given a choice. "Please don't tell anyone," he blurted, eyeing their surroundings. Thankfully, it was a little past noon so no one was out and about.
"Why will I - dude. I'm not going to - whatever. I don't have time for this." Puhor was restless on his feet. "I'm gonna go beat some guys to an inch of their lives. You coming?"
Of all the things he could've said! Dikhou took an involuntary step back. "What?"
"Few assholes from your village found my brother alone and - I don't know what they did but they hurt him and I'm going to hurt them back. You coming?"
For a second, Dikhou's brain could not register the words. "What did you say?"
Puhor threw up his hands. "Oh for fuck's sake-"
And when realisation crept in, slowly at first, then like a bolt of lightning, it came with a searing lance of fear. Dikhou stepped closer to Puhor and grabbed his jacket with shaky hands. "What happened? Where is he?"
"Niribili's taken him home-"
Dikhou did not wait for more details. He turned on his heels and ran.
He was huffing by the time he stepped into Baruah koka's house but did not stop. He shot past Banhi and Priti - who called after him - and sprinted up the stairs. It was only when he stood outside Junak's room that he realised just how fucked up all of this was. After his painstaking efforts to ignore Junak, he could not just barge in.
At the same time, he could not not.
He knew which assholes Puhor was talking about. And he knew what they were capable of. The thought of Junak in front of them, alone, chilled Dikhou's bones.
They better not have hurt him, or Dikhou was... was... Well, he did not know what he would do exactly, but the ice-cold rage in him demanded actions.
He knocked, his anxiety leaking into it.
The one opening the door was Niribili. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed but she glowered at him nonetheless. "What are you doing here?"
"Is he... is he okay?"
Niribili's eyes softened slightly. She hung her head and stepped back.
Dikhou walked into the room to find Junak curled up on the bed, covered to his head in a blanket. A pop song was playing through the speakers. The old typewriter that had been there on the table as long as Dikhou could remember was lying half-broken on the floor.
He wanted to cry. "Jun."
The man on the bed did not move. "Go away. Please." His voice was weak and broken.
Dikhou took a step forward. "Jun..." He did not know what else to say. Or do. He wanted to tuck Junak in his arms and hold him close.
Junak shifted to sit up against the headboard. His hair was a mess and his face was red and streaked with tears. "G-Get out."
The world caved in on Dikhou. Everything felt cold and dark and... unreal. "Jun... I... what happened?"
Junak wiped his face on his sleeves, roughly, almost like he was slapping himself. "What do you want?"
"Jun..."
"Stop saying my name!" Junak curled into himself, with his legs pulled to his chest and his hands clutching his ears.
Dikhou had never seen him like this. He never wanted to see him like this. It was terrifying, and it made him feel so fucking helpless! "What did they do?"
"Nothing! I don't - I don't want to talk about it. Certainly not to you."
Tears prickled Dikhou's eyes.
Niribili put a hand on his arm. "I think you should leave," she said, not unkindly.
Dikhou did not move. "I'm sorry I-"
"Don't." Junak took a sharp breath and looked him in the eye. He was wearing a scowl that did not belong on his features, not then, not ever. "What are you doing here, Dikhou? We're not talking anymore."
Dikhou opened his mouth, then closed it when he realised he had nothing to say.
"We're not friends," Junak's voice was raw but steady. "We're not anything. You were right. I was playing you."
No.
No, no, no, no, no. Even as Dikhou had hurled it at Junak that night, he did not really believe it. He was just scared and hurt and... scared. He did not mean it.
But now, hearing Junak say it, it was like driving a knife straight through his chest.
"I just needed you for the music," Junak continued. "And sure, I was flirting with you because you're mildly attractive and I guess it's fun to make a closeted guy submit to you."
Dikhou stumbled back like he was punched. Like Junak had literally plunged his hand into his chest and clawed out his heart.
"I never had any grand feelings for you, I just wanted to get into your pants."
"Junak," Niribili hissed.
Junak ignored her. He eyed Dikhou and, though his face was puffed up from crying, he looked... cruel. And nothing like the Junak Dikhou knew. "It was fun while it lasted but we're done now. You should leave."
A part of Dikhou wanted to grab Junak by the collar and shout at him: You're lying! This is an act! Tell me you're lying.
But then Dikhou remembered how they were from different worlds and there was so much to Junak's world that he did not understand.
And it made him feel... stupid.
He fisted his hands at his side, turned and left.
He felt so stupid. All those sweet promises and the sweet smiles - he wanted to claw out the memories and set them on fire.
"Dikhou!" Niribili came running after him. Niribili, who probably sat with Junak and laughed at how pathetic Dikhou was. "Wait, please."
He did not wait.
She caught up with him on the porch. She grabbed his arm and forced him to a halt, to face her. Her hair was wildly unkempt around her, the shawl slipping down her shoulders. "He's lying," she said, desperation dripping from her words. "Do you hear me? He's lying."
Yes, Dikhou heard her but he could not process her words, let alone believe them.
"Those guys who... who hurt him, I - I don't know what they said to him exactly, but he's terrified. Of them. For you. He doesn't want them to find out that you're... you know, so he's lying to push you away."
It was too much. Too much. Dikhou stepped back and clutched his head in both hands. "Stop playing with me. Please. I - I can't do this. Please." He might've cried then, he wasn't sure. His head was reeling and it was all too much of a mess.
Niribili laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, her hold light enough for him to effortlessly shrug it off. He didn't. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry." She waited, as if for him to snap, then said, "Will you sit with me? For a few minutes? Please?"
Dikhou did not have the energy to protest. He did not know where else he would have gone anyway so he let her guide him to a side of the porch. She sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. Dikhou took a seat next to her.
"I was twelve when I first had a crush on a girl." Her voice was low enough to only reach Dikhou's ears - if someone were to stumble upon them, they wouldn't hear her. "I still remember her; gorgeous hair, lovely smile, very badass. I went to tell my best friend about it, all giddy and anxious, and she... well, she made a face and said ew, don't tell me you're a lesbo. I faked a laugh and said no, of course not and proceeded to badmouth my crush to... you know, validate my lack of feelings." Niribili hugged her legs and rested her head on the wall. She was wearing bright rainbow socks that peeked out from under the long, floral skirt. "I spent all my school years after that trying to focus only on my guy crushes and not the other one, until my brother's girlfriend told me one day that she was bisexual."
There was a marigold flower bush near Dikhou. Small, white butterflies hovered around it.
"I don't know if you know but Banhi's my girlfriend."
Dikhou nodded as if to say yes.
"Well, yeah. Banhi's family is this crazy orthodox joint family that wanted her engaged to some guy from an upper caste rich family. They forced her to date him. One day, someone caught her with a girl and..." Niribili inhaled sharply and when she spoke again, her voice shook. "They told the guy. It was... illegal back then and he... he had all the power to abuse her. So did her own family. She ran away and lived with a friend. She was eighteen then, surviving on her own, until she made her way to America. She's never gone back home, not once."
Dikhou stilled, horrified and sad and awed all at the same time.
"Junak's ex-girlfriend was one of the most toxic people I've ever met," Niribili continued, "who threatened to out him if he continued to be my friend. She was jealous or whatever. He almost agreed to it too, but she outed him anyway. Practically everyone in Guwahati knows, and despite all their flashy clothes, they are not the most progressive people around."
Dikhou remembered the look on Junak's face when he had told him this. I thought no one else would want me, he'd said.
But that was a different Junak, soft and gentle. Dikhou barely knew him now.
"Why are you telling me all this?"
Niribili dabbed her eyes on her shawl. "I can't even begin to imagine what you must be going through, what it must be like living here. But I guess... I want you to know that you're not alone. Our stories and struggles might be different but, at the end of the day, we understand."
Dikhou's mind wandered back to the day Junak had carelessly rattled off about queer identities.
I guess it's fun to make a closeted guy submit to you.
No. No, they did not understand.
"I'm not here to convince you to go back to Junak or... come out to your family - god, no. Those are your choices and yours alone." Niribili had this weird sort of tranquillity around her that reminded Dikhou of his mother. "I'm just here to correct his mistake. He should not have said that to you. He does not mean that. He really likes you and he's scared those guys are going to hurt you."
Dikhou did not say anything. He wished he had the courage to walk up to them and beat them to a pulp.
He could not, of course. Despite all his promises, there was nothing he could do to them. There was nothing he could do to protect Junak.
The helplessness was like a living organism, growing inside of him, taking up all the space to breathe.
"I never meant to leave him," Dikhou said before he was even aware of what he was doing, "that night."
"So why did you?" Niribili did not sound mad. She sounded kind, and for the umpteenth time, Dikhou wished he had a friend like her.
He blinked back fresh tears. "I don't know."
Niribili did not push. The corners of her lips curled up into a sad smile and she reached out to pat his arm. She was shorter than him, her head coming up to his shoulder. "It's okay."
"I thought you hated me."
She smiled at that, surprising him. "Yeah. No." She shook her head. "I never hated you. You're a great guy and they're hard to find so I kinda... cherish you." She chuckled, but it was quick to fade. "I was just worried for Junak. I know it must be difficult to believe, especially now, after all that bull he just spewed, but he really likes you. And... he acts all strong but he really isn't. I was worried for him because he has a track record of people leaving him."
Guilt joined the league of the dozen confusing, conflicting feelings clogging his chest. Tearing at it.
"I shouldn't have judged you too harshly though," she said, "and I'm sorry for that."
Considering she was probably right, Dikhou was in no position to accept her apology.
"But it's a little on you too," she smiled, "because you didn't really give me the chance to get to know you. We barely talked."
This was a sentiment he shared a hundred per cent. There were several occasions where he wanted to know her better, but "I didn't want the villagers to... talk."
Niribili sighed. "They don't want you talking to a girl. They don't want you talking to a guy. What do they want, honestly?"
And just like that, Dikhou's whole life clicked into place. In three casual sentences, she solved the great mystery of why he did not have any friends to call his own - when he was in school, sitting with the girls earned him relentless teasing that he thoroughly hated, and the boys were either too annoying or if one of them was nice, Dikhou was simply scared to befriend him.
The absurdity of it would've been funny if it wasn't cruel.
He rubbed his temples. "All of this is-"
A familiar voice shouted a particularly nasty curse in Hindi.
Dikhou and Niribili looked up to see a mob of people walking down the front gate. At the head was Puhor, his elbows firmly held by two middle-aged men as he thrashed and swore at them.
"Fuck," Niribili muttered over the clamour of the oncoming crowd. "Why are men so stupid?"