Project Heart - Chapter 36: Chapter 36

"Jun."
Junak looked up from the laptop and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Dikhou standing at the door, a hand propped up on the wooden frame. Junak bit the inside of his cheek to keep his expression neutral. "Dikhou?" The name tasted sweet, seductively melting on his tongue.
Dikhou gave him a small smile. "Do you... want to cook dinner with me tonight?"
I will do anything with you tonight. Junak solemnly kept aside the laptop and folded his hands on his lap. "Cook dinner?"
Dikhou's shrug was uncertain. "Ma is inviting you – well, your family, everyone, to dinner. And I'm cooking the duck so I thought – I mean, no one will be there," he added hastily, "apart from our families."
It stung, being back into hiding, but Junak was the one who had set this rule so he brushed past it and said, "Wait, you're asking your guest to cook?"
Dikhou visibly relaxed. "Well, I'm asking the guest to be my cooking assistant."
"Assistant?" Junak feigned offence.
Dikhou smiled. "Unless you know how to make duck for twenty people."
"Geez."
Dikhou let out his classic soundless laugh. "Hence, assistant."
"Will I need a costume?" Junak was only kidding, but the way Dikhou bit his lip and averted his gaze made Junak blush profusely. He waved a hand in front of his face and said, "Yes, yes. I'll do it." He picked up the laptop and pretended to work so as to not lose his cool.
In hindsight, Junak would realise how, if he wanted to not lose his cool, he should not have said yes.
Because Dikhou bent over an open fire, in a body-fitting t-shirt that had its sleeves rolled up, was unbelievably hot.
As was their tradition, the dinner was a backyard communal feast that started the moment the sun dipped down the horizon. Though the dinner was on Dikhou's mother, they all sat at Junak's grandparents' backyard, around a bonfire.
It should've been awkward for the two families to be together like this, but something had changed since the day at the hospital.
"I don't think Ma hates your father anymore," Dikhou whispered as he tended to the fire. "I don't think she ever really hated him, you know? It's Deuta she's mad at but you can't hate the dead."
"What about you?" Junak asked.
"I told you." The yellow flames caught on the wood and Dikhou stepped back, dusting his hands. "I don't think anyone was at fault."
Goddamn him.
Junak looked down at all the vegetables arranged on large utensils on the ground. He propped an aluminium plate on his lap and began peeling the potatoes. Dikhou sat in front of him, marinating the meat.
The main bonfire was a few feet away from them – far enough to not disturb the cooks, but close enough that Junak overheard their conversations.
Jatin had pulled out the carrom board and Junak's father and Puhor stood there, playing with Megha and Banhi. By the occasional curses in Hindi, Junak could tell Puhor was losing.
Priti and Dikhou's mother were inside the kitchen, cooking the dal and sabzi. Jatin moved about between them and Dikhou, helping out both parties.
The rest were gathered by the fire. Or more like, around Junak's mother who had turned into the star attraction with her adventurous stories. It especially mesmerised Lohor and Asha, but Niribili, Kopili and Prapti were equally awed. So were Junak's grandparents, who aptly listened, and Junak felt warm when he saw his mother trying to include them in the conversation.
And Jiri... well, she was currently walking over towards Junak.
Shit.
"Do you need help?" she asked, towering over him. She was almost as tall as him and had the same scary vibes as her mother. But at least she was smiling.
"Um..." Junak turned to Dikhou who was suddenly very engrossed in the meat boiling over the fire. Jerk. "Yes, please."
Jiri took a seat beside him and picked up a few onions to peel. "So..."
Junak gulped. Dikhou said he had come out to his family but Junak wondered exactly how much she knew. Did she know how much he had hurt her brother?
Oh shit. The last time she had seen him, he was saying things like Dikhou was ugly, Junak was only using him, etcetera.
"I wasn't using him!" he blurted before he could help himself. Both Jiri and Dikhou stared at him. His mouth went dry. "I – I mean, that day... what I said about... using him f-for the music. It wasn't true."
Jiri nodded, turning her attention back to the onion in her hand. "Yes, Dikhou mentioned."
Junak bit his lip and got back to work.
"I'm sorry about the villagers," Jiri said. "They are... well, they just don't understand. It's new and strange to them and they find that scary."
Junak shrugged. "It's okay," he said, though it wasn't. Sure, he understood what she was trying to say but it was extremely hard to be forgiving when those villagers were the reason he could not reach out to touch the man sitting beside him even though every part of his body was yearning for it.
Jiri sighed. "Anyway. I see all that equipment you guys play with. What are you making?"
Junak was glad for the distraction and how the conversation moved to cinema. Turned out, Jiri knew a thing or two about art films, and ten minutes later Junak was smiling as they spoke of an underrated filmmaker from Assam.
"Wait, let me get this straight," Jiri said excitedly, discarding the vegetables she was supposed to be cutting. "You wrote a Bihu song? The whole thing, on your own?"
Junak nodded.
"Oh my god, can I listen to it?"
"I... it's... gay."
Jiri's eyebrows shot up. "Oh my god."
"Yeah. I – I don't... want to make you uncomfortable."
"No! I'm just surprised at your... whatever. I want to listen to it. I'm an ally now." Dikhou raised a brow at her so she waved a hand and said, "I googled stuff."
Dikhou's smile was blinding.
Junak had difficulty looking away. "I... don't have my phone on me right now. Could you go ask Niribili?"
"On it." She clapped her thighs as she got up. Only, she did not go to Niribili, and instead made an announcement along the lines of, "Who wants to listen to the Bihu song Junak wrote? The song he apparently used my brother for?"
"Jiri-ba!" Dikhou groaned.
"He what?" Junak's father asked. Junak wasn't sure which bit he wanted clarification for.
Junak's mother was equally surprised when she asked, "You wrote a Bihu song?"
"It's... um..." Junak looked at Niribili. "Just play it." The only person there who did not know about his sexuality was Grandpa, who was in no position to judge, so Junak might as well get it done with. And he was proud too, of the song.
Niribili played it on loudspeaker. Everyone listened. Priti and Dikhou's mother walked out of the kitchen on hearing the music.
Junak felt nauseated the whole three minutes.
Then, everyone applauded. And everyone was smiling, even Dikhou's mother. It made Junak a little dizzy.
"Oh my god, you wrote that?" Puhor cried. "But it has like... complicated Assamese words and everything."
Junak threw a piece of potato at his brother. It landed on the ground between them. He picked up another piece but froze when Dikhou wrapped his fingers around his wrist. "Don't waste my vegetables, please." He was wearing a smile that made Junak weak in the knees.
"When are you releasing it?" Junak's mother asked. "I can't wait to share it."
"We're not..." Niribili said, tucking the phone back in the pocket of the hoodie she was wearing; it was Banhi's. "It'll be a part of our film. We're not releasing it as a song."
"What about your film?" Grandpa asked. "Will we get to see it?"
"Um... it will be screened at specific events and won't really be... available anywhere..." Niribili nervously glanced at Junak, asking him to save her.
So without really thinking, he said, "We'll try to show it to you, maybe. Before we leave."
His words hung suspended in the air, thick and heavy.
Grandpa smiled. "We'd like that."
Dikhou retracted his hand that was resting around Junak's wrist and turned back to his cooking. The duck was boiling in a sea of water and vegetables.
"We'll miss you when you leave," Grandma said. "Our house has been so full of life ever since you got here."
Niribili reached out to take the old woman's hand. "We'll miss you too, aita."
"Will you visit again?"
Niribili hesitated, her eyes darting back towards Junak. They would be returning to America after this, and that was halfway across the earth. They barely visited India, let alone Guwahati, so it was exceedingly unlikely they would be visiting this small village anytime soon.
Junak wanted to say yes to his grandmother, and he knew he would try his best to return, but it would take at least a couple of years. And who knew what would happen till then?
His heart constricted. This, the people around the fire were all he ever wanted. And they were here for him. He was so truly happy in the moment that the thought of this being over in a few hours was jarring. Cruel. Completely unwanted.
He shot to his feet and walked away, into the house. His mother called after him but thankfully, no one stopped him and no one followed.
Junak burst into the drawing-room and collapsed on a sofa. The light in the room came from an old tube light that was bleak enough to hurt his eyes. The walls were uneven and of dull colours and there were lizards on the corners. The ancient longcase clock was too loud.
Everything, at that moment, felt like the setting of a tragic movie. Which did not make sense because he loved this room. He had spent countless hours lounging on the sofa, talking to aita, laughing with Priti, gossiping with Jatin. He sat here with his grandfather, enjoying their morning tea. It was the simplest of joys he had ever known. It was peace. It was silence he did not fear. It was... love.
He heard footsteps outside the room and moments later, Dikhou appeared at the door. "Are you okay?"
Junak did not reply.
Dikhou crossed the distance between them and came to kneel in front of him. "Jun?"
It felt physically impossible how much the sight of Dikhou hurt. It hurt how much Junak adored that man yet all he had done was cause him pain. It hurt how much he ached to just reach out and hold him, but he couldn't. He couldn't.
And he was leaving. Too fast and too soon.
"Jun..." Dikhou's whisper made Junak shiver and when Dikhou raised a hand to touch his face, Junak leaned into it, almost involuntarily, because there was nothing else he could do.
Dikhou's fingers were cold as they brushed against his chin, his jaw, his cheek. Junak felt hypnotised.
He wanted more.
Dikhou stared at him, no longer smiling. He looked as ensnared as Junak felt.
Dikhou's thumb found its way to Junak's lips and hesitantly, he traced it along his bottom lip. Junak caught Dikhou's eyes, as if in a dare, and opened his mouth in unwavering submission.
Dikhou trembled but did not let go.
Overcome by a surge of reckless confidence, Junak closed his lips around Dikhou's thumb and sucked. The sharp inhale Dikhou took was too loud in the silent room and acted as fuel to fire. Junak watched the rise and fall of Dikhou's chest, his parted lips and wide eyes laced with want.
It shredded whatever ounce of self-control Junak had left. He caught Dikhou's wrist and guided his hand away from his face and to the back of his neck. "Kiss me."
Dikhou did not need to be told twice. He lurched forward, collected Junak in his arms and crushed their lips together. It was all rush and heat and abandon, that opened the floodgates on days of suppressed desire.
"I missed you," Dikhou whispered between the kisses, "so much."
"M-Me too. God, Dikhou. Me too."
Junak fell back on his seat and pulled Dikhou on top of him. Dikhou steadied himself on the headrest, then froze. "We shouldn't do this on a sofa. Ever again."
It was painful, that memory, but Junak was too dazed to do anything but smile. "You're right," he panted but reached up to kiss Dikhou again.
Dikhou indulged him for a minute, after which he stepped back. Away. Leaving enough space between them to make Junak realise what he had just done.
He was supposed to keep Dikhou away and not do this. No matter how it went, it would end up hurting Dikhou and he did not want that. God, he did not want that! Dikhou deserved so much better than this.
"I don't want to be friends," Dikhou said.
Junak should've been relieved but it still stung. "Y-You're right–"
"No! I mean. I want to kiss you. Like this. Like... more. I want to hold you, and sleep with you and wake up next to you. I... I know you're scared but we'll be careful. Please. I want you so much it's tearing me apart and I... I..."
Junak closed the distance between them and kissed him again, because how could he not? When they broke off, he held onto Dikhou and did not step back. "Why? T-That night, why did you leave?"
Dikhou closed his eyes. "I was... I was scared that I wasn't... cool... or urban enough for you."
"The fuck does that mean?"
Dikhou looked pained. "I don't... I don't know." He caught Junak by the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. This is... it's all new to me and I don't... I... I like you so much I don't know what to do with it."
Junak's heart swelled, choking his lungs. "I - I'm still leaving in a few days."
"I know. I know. But I'll take however many days I get. I'll take every extra minute. I would rather live with the pain after you leave than regret not being with you while you were still here."
"God, Dikhou..."
"Please, Jun." He cupped Junak's face in both hands. "Don't push me away."
"But I – I hurt you."
"You did. But I know why you had to do it."
Junak closed his eyes. Surrounded by Dikhou's warmth and his scent felt like returning to a dream – it felt impossible. Irresistible. Incredible.
And Junak knew he should not be agreeing to this. It would hurt so goddamn much, but... wasn't he anyway hurting already?
"I'm sorry. I – I didn't mean any of the t-things I said."
"I know."
"But we – we can't be seen by people."
Dikhou kissed Junak on the neck, then whispered, "We'll be careful. I promise."
It felt like Junak had run miles and miles and finally reached home. He clenched his fingers around Dikhou's shirt and, without meeting his eyes, he said, "I really really like you."
"I'm glad."
Junak chuckled but it might as well have been a sob. "A-Are you being clever right now?"
"I'm always clever. Remember the time you trekked a mile to avoid a made-up ghost."
"Oh my god." Junak hid his face on Dikhou's shoulders. "We're never talking about that again."
Dikhou wrapped his arms around him. "Are you kidding? We're always going to talk about that."
Junak pulled Dikhou closer and they stayed like that, breathing in each other's warmth for a long, long time. Until Dikhou said, "I think my duck is ruined."
Junak laughed. But he did not let go. "You just left it unsupervised?"
"No, I asked Puhor to keep an eye on it."
"Then it's definitely ruined."
Turned out, it wasn't ruined because Junak's father was there to keep an eye on Puhor. "I've added the masala to it," he told Dikhou when he and Junak approached, hand in hand. "You know, Luit always used to add too much salt in everything. It's why your mother never let him into the kitchen."
There was a bittersweet relief and fondness between them as Dikhou smiled and said, "Thanks, khura."
"Call me taoi." It was what one called their father's best friend. Dikhou's mother heard but did not protest.
"Thank you, taoi." Dikhou glanced at Junak, who squeezed his hand, then back at the older man. "Can I... ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Will you... um... will you tell me about him? About Deuta?"
Junak's father looked away and nodded. "Come," his voice was slightly strained, "sit with me. Puhor, hand the spatula to your brother."
It was probably the best night of Junak's life. Not because he got to claim that he made half of the duck, but because, that night, all differences and mistakes were forgotten under the stars and around the fire. Everyone laughed and talked and shared food. Kopili and Puhor chatted like they were childhood friends, Dikhou and Junak's mothers spoke like they had been in touch for all these years and Junak's father sat near his parents, not exactly talking to them but not avoiding them either. Junak and Dikhou sat together, catching glances and trading smiles, and Niribili mouthed "I'm proud of you" from across the fire.
Junak had never cried from happiness before but that night, as everyone ate till their bellies hurt and the fire died down and the youngsters got together to clean the dishes, he did.