Junak Baruah wants to win the prestigious short film competition in his university. But with hundreds of participants and a stellar jury on board, winning means making a film that's never been made before.
And that means breaking the rules and taki...
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Junak found Dikhou and Puhor together in the former's room. Puhor had a dhuti around his legs – half wrapped around his waist and the other half pooling on the floor. The ends of the dhuti were in Dikhou's hands... Dikhou, who was kneeling in front of Puhor.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" Junak cried.
The two men looked at him as if he was doing something outrageous.
"Dikhou's teaching me how to wear this." Puhor wriggled his butt to demonstrate.
Junak stomped up to them and lodged himself between them, nearly kicking Dikhou in the process. "Watch a YouTube video like a normal person!"
Puhor rolled his eyes, lazily collecting the ends of the dhuti in his arms. "Very subtle, bro."
Junak directed his glare at Dikhou who slowly rose to his feet, frowning. "What?"
"Are you two friends?" It was ridiculous. Ridiculous and improper and appalling.
Dikhou opened his mouth but closed it without answering. Puhor, on the other hand, threw an arm around Junak's shoulders and said, "Yes."
Junak could've punched him. How big of a moron did Puhor have to be to befriend the man who was having meteor-sized complications with his younger brother?
Junak shoved Puhor away and took two deep breaths to calm himself. His parents were here and, for once in his life, his family was together. He would save yelling at Puhor for later.
Dikhou looked sad and uncertain when Junak faced him, which ruthlessly tugged at Junak's heart. "You..." He cleared his throat and fixed his gaze on Dikhou's chin. "You called my mother?"
Dikhou swallowed and did not answer.
"Yikes," Puhor unhelpfully added into the silence. He bundled the dhuti in his arms and walked towards the door. "I'm going to go now so feel free to have your angry make-up sex or whatever."
Great. The fleeting but incredibly vivid mental images of Dikhou doing him against the wall was the last thing Junak needed. He glowered to hide a blush and crossed his arms over his chest.
Dikhou waited till Puhor left, then asked, "Are you mad?"
Junak gulped the 'no' and instead said, "Why did you do it?"
Dikhou stared at him and, no matter how hard he tried, Junak couldn't look away. He felt weirdly exposed under Dikhou's gaze, like the latter could tell how hard Junak's heart was beating and how desperately he wanted to stop the goddamn lies.
When Dikhou spoke, his voice was the steadiest Junak had heard in a long time. "Because I learned something about you."
"W-What?"
Dikhou mimicked Junak and folded his arms over his chest, his bare – always with the goddamn sleeves folded – forearms straining temptingly. "When a crisis happens, you evade. You don't... you don't trust people. At least not enough to have an honest conversation with them."
