Chapter Thirty-Two

You think it takes too much to love,

Only because you haven't met someone once deprived.

***

Riyaan feels like they are moving slower than average, even slower than the first time they met.

The whole drive Riyaan leans against the window glass and looks through the glass window of trees passing in the dark. Anything to make him not break down, anything to keep his mind off of Ivan, and how beautiful he looks today despite not having his hair and beard done properly. But amidst all these thoughts, he cannot stop wondering whether Ivan is included in all those plans of his ex(?) were going on about.

He desperately wishes to ask Ivan, but...

'Don't sleep. It will be hard to carry you,' Ivan says, a hint of tease in his voice.

He cannot deny that his heart feels a little relief that Ivan is no longer angry at him. But some funny part of him is also fond of that anger - it was for him, and only him, after all. That too because he refused to eat more of what Ivan cooked for him. Riyaan looks at him for a second before looking out of the window glass again. He feels Ivan's gaze multiple times on him.

'There's a wine tasting place about some four-hour drive from the city, we can go there sometime, if you want.'

'Why, I don't even drink wine.'

'You haven't tasted much. You might want to taste them occasionally.'

Ivan seems to be finding new ways to keep their new found friendship alive. Doesn't he know it's too late for friendzoning now?

'Want me to play some music?' Ivan asks again, after a few moments of silence.

'I don't mind.'

'What do you want?'

Does it matter he almost says it, but realised it did matter. Except when it comes to a relationship with Ivan.

'Anything.'

Cooking his favourite food - he would still understand. He was the guest today, and he doesn't have much of an appetite unless it's his favourite food. But now the car stereo fills with Calling by Kalax ft. Frankmusik, one of the Synth music that he always listens to a lot.

Soft, and with right volume, which instantly changes Riyaan's mood. No, it doesn't just change his mood - it makes him so mad. Mad with overwhelming emotions. Mad that he is dying and broken, yet Ivan likes to play with his emotions, is that why he is doing this? Ivan definitely knows it's his favourite song from the whole album, yet he is showing that he remembers his favourite music after which probably he will go back to his lover, have sex with him and kiss him.

'This is okay?'

Riyaan takes in a shaky breath.

'Okay...' he doesn't miss a beat to answer that in fear that he might not be able to speak with a straight voice. He wishes for Ivan to not speak to him at all for the rest of the journey.

'You know what this song is about?' Ivan asks him, as the song plays.

Riyaan doesn't. 'No,' he says, taking a peak at Ivan. His face is unreadable. And he never truly thought much of the lyrics.

'It's about someone who is no longer in touch with you. In this particular case, the artist speaks about his relationship with his mother.'

That hits him with deep sadness. Maybe...maybe Ivan is not trying to hurt him. Not intentionally anyway. He hates Ivan at the moment, but he doesn't want Ivan to be so gone from his life that he only reminisces their moments as it's past and past only.

Riyaan wants to know. Is this what he and Ivan will become years later? Wondering why Ivan has stopped calling, and why he they stopped at all? Was it so shallow - the times they spent together?

Is this why Ivan is trying to stay in touch too? Especially with him trying to avoid Ivan so hard.

'Never pegged you for the silent type,' Ivan says.

It feels like the car is slowing down. Riyaan is no car and speed expert, but he knows that they could go faster than that.

'Sometimes, first impressions are not the last impressions,' Riyaan says.

'What makes you say it's gonna be my last impression?' Ivan turns the volume down a bit. His gaze feels like piercing into Riyaan's skin. But Riyaan knows each part of the lyrics, so he hears the singing as clearly as he wanted.

'You don't want to see me anymore, is that it? You barely looked at me all these six hours.'

Riyaan wants to lash out at him. Why should he want to see him again? Friends meet up? Friends reunion? Mandatory sex every month?

'And ignoring me without fail these last months.'

Riyaan picks at his fingers while Ivan continues. He is a little nervous as to where this is going.

'I am talking to you.'

'I am sleepy.' Because he doesn't know what else to say.

'That's my cue to shut the fuck up, right?'

'Just drive faster, I want to sleep.'

So Ivan does drive faster, angrier, and without looking at him anymore. 'You are making it so fucking difficult,' Ivan mutters.

And Riyaan has never heard him swear before.

'I forgot to bring an umbrella,' Ivan tuts when they finally reach his place. He says it more to himself than to Riyaan.

This time, Riyaan let Ivan drive him to the gate. For a while, he sits there with Ivan in the car.

'That's me, on the first floor.' He tries to ease the tension.

'Good.'

Ivan plus attitude is cute, Riyaan cannot deny and he hates himself.

'Do you want to come in?'

'Didn't you say you're sleepy?'

'Fine, goodnight,' Riyaan slams the door.

Before he falls asleep with slightly wet hair, all he thinks is about that anger directed at him. Wasn't this what he wanted a few months ago? For Ivan to show at least some kind of passion towards him, not always so polite.

***

A bad dream - that's what he wakes up to. Along with a slight coldness around his legs. In the dream, someone told something about him to Ivan, and Ivan doesn't trust him anymore. It was so heartbreaking for him that even after he wakes up, it's eating him.

After he brings his breakfast to the table, there's a constant ringing of the doorbell. It's eight o'clock, and he has no idea who.

Who is it! Who the fuck is it? The sneezing is making it even more frustrating. The rain yesterday, although briefly, has made a mess out of his health.

'Hi.' Riyaan finds Ivan leaning against the railing calmly, like he hasn't just blasted his doorbell constantly.

'What are you doing here?' He says, sneezing.

'I was at the gym.. I thought I should see you.' He's still outside the room, hair wet and dishevelled. Beard still not shaven, eyes tired and no emotions. He has a package in his hand.

'Do you wanna come in?' Riyaan asks hesitantly. He wonders if he wants to come in, or he is here to make a confession. They are not together, never were, so he is not here to end it all. Or maybe he is.

He comes in. Still not saying anything or asking much.

'Are you okay?' Riyaan cannot take the suspense anymore. If he is here to hurt him with words, or actions, or anything about his life, he should get it over with.

'Are you busy?'

'No. Why?'

'Well...just wondering.'

'Wondering what?'

'What you were doing...that's what I was wondering.'

'You are here eight in the morning, wondering what I was doing?'

Ivan considers him for a moment and his expression finally changes.

'Right, I will leave.' He lowers his gaze, considers the floor for a moment, and turns around to leave.

No way he is leaving after tormenting him.

'Ivan!'

He waits but doesn't look back at him.

'Sit down. Talk to me,' Riyaan says softly. At least tell me why you came?

'If you don't want someone, you don't. What's there to talk about?'

Is he serious? He is now telling Riyaan that Riyaan doesn't want him?

'Where did that come from?

'Sorry. Forget that I came here.'

'Why, will your boyfriend get mad and jealous if he knows you're here?'

'He's not my boyfriend. It's not like people get back together so soon after years.'

'Yeah sure. That's why you're here. Why not use Riyaan while me and my boyfriend wait for our feelings to come back and marry each other? Sure, very convenient.'

'Use you?!' Ivan looks at him, face furious. He firmly holds Riyaan's elbow before giving it a tug. 'Use you? I thought you wanted this as much as I did, if not more.'

'This is for you.' He finally brings out the package.

When Riyaan holds the package, he finds another transparent packaging along with a mini flower bouquet - by far the cutest bouquet he has seen. But not the right moment!

In another box, there's chocolates, sectioned separately with the different countries' flags printed. The customised box looks like it holds chocolates from a great many countries.

'Did you go on a world tour or something?'

Ivan makes a face. 'Wear a sweater, before falling sick.'

'Why do you care?'

'For once, stop being an annoying brat?' Ivan holds him across his elbow, bringing him closer to him.

Riyaan lazily struggles against the tight hold. 'And who are you? My husband?'

Ivan considers for a moment. 'I might be someday, maybe you should practise listening to me once in a while,' Ivan says through gritted teeth.

How dare he!

So Ivan is playing with him, and now he is not even hiding it. Because Riyaan has feelings for him, he knows and he wants to play with it.

'Take these with you, don't come here again. I don't want your gifts.' Riyaan forces the box of chocolates against Ivan's chest. Why, exactly, Ivan bringing him chocolates? Just because he loves them.

When he touches the mini bouquet , he wonders if he likes to part with it. But Ivan stops him by holding his hand behind him, supporting the table behind him. The already half damaged table lamp falls over and makes a sound. Ivan's hot and angry breath burns his neck. At once, he feels hot lips over his own.

Oh, the shock and thrill! The surprise and blood rushing makes him act messy. With fast and frantic movement, he slaps the bouquet over Ivan's face. Lightly, he meant to do it lightly. But when Ivan winces with closed eyes, he feels the deepest regret.

'Ivan?'

Ivan's face is red, and Riyaan is scared because he cannot tell whether it's from anger, his action, or hurting inside. But that's not what makes him concerned, it's his eyes turning up moist and his nose flares up with what seems like an intense emotion.

'Ivan, I'm sorry. Are you okay?' Riyaan takes a step forward, and Ivan takes one back.

Ivan considers the floor for a moment, and then turns on his heels, walking past the chocolate packets, and the table lamp.

'Ivan,' Riyaan calls out, with a broken voice.

***

Eighteen messages and six calls - that's what Riyaan does to reach out to Ivan, say sorry and low-key tells Ivan how much he loves him. Most of them sent while crying over how Ivan would never want to see him again.

He wishes Ivan stayed, fought and they ended up having sex. At least they would be closer in the same bed, sharing something. He knows it's not as meaningful for Ivan as it is for him. Despite knowing that, and despite boldly saying 'no', he still hoped Ivan stayed because he has no pride left.

At eight in the evening, he calls again. He knows Ivan is just ignoring him. He doesn't expect Ivan to pick up even this time, but when he does, he has nothing to say.

'Ivan,' Riyaan speaks his name, with a voice all broken from crying for so long.

'I am so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you. It was an accident, if you don't wish to speak to me at all, that's fine. Just... I'm sorry,' Riyaan tells him sorry from the bottom of his heart. He has no leverage left.

'Ivan...'

'Yes..,' his voice is soft, patient and attentive, which makes Riyaan sit up in surprise.

'Where are you, I called you so many...' Riyaan hopes for the best, but is ready for the worst.

'I am at your door, please, open the door.'

Riyaan waits for a moment, registering what he has just said, and then practically runs towards the door, opening to find Ivan, bag on hand again, some smell of hot food hitting his nose.

'I brought dinner,' Ivan says with an awkward smile, holding the food bag up to his eyes.

Opening the door all the way to let him in, he goes to his bedroom, picking up the chocolate packets, and fixes the lamp back on the table. Shoving some of his notebooks for Ivan to place the food on his table. He is still stealing gazes at Ivan, as he starts unpacking the food.

'You cooked?' Seeing Ivan's favourite North Indian dish, Riyaan can tell it's home cooked. Over the months, he has come to like it equally.

So he dies here crying like the world has ended for him, and Ivan was doing what...cooking?

'Yes.'

'Are you not angry with me?' Riyaan finally asks.

'I am angry, with you and at myself,' Ivan says, adding food to his plate and his own. 'Eat your food.'

Riyaan still cannot believe that Ivan is here, with him. Cooked food for him, and here, he is sitting on the only table at his place and tearing off the naam in his plate, to eat with him. But then, instead of eating it himself, Ivan keeps it close to Riyaan's. It takes Riyaan a few moments to gather what's happening and then take in the food. As soon as he does, Ivan connects their forehead together softly. 'I am sorry,' he whispers.

Riyaan doesn't know what he is apologising for. All he knows is that, at this moment with that apology, it feels like he can forgive Ivan for everything that Ivan said, that he didn't do or that he did do - everything that hurt Riyaan.

__________________

I'm so glad you guys are still reading my story with enough passion and some anger, ahaha. Truly, thanks for the dedication, I couldn't have asked for anything more.