With Mangoes And Chocolates | ✓

12. Interweave.

My fingers picked up the miniature Iron Man from Bhavuk's desk. It was placed in the utmost corner; it took time for me to notice it.

I was studying its well-crafted, accurate figure, when Bhavuk spoke up, "are you into MCU?"
"Most certainly. It's a bit unhealthy, in fact."
The bright smile that lit up his face, satisfied the core of my heart. "Do you like him?" He enquired, pointing to the thing in my hand.
"Yeah, I mean. . . genius and all. Not my favorite, though. Love him anyway."
"Who's your favorite, then?"

I thought for a moment. "It's a tie between Peter Parker and Thor. Very hard to choose but. . let's go with the latter this time. Yours?"

"His brother."
"Adopted."
"That pricks."

I laughed in response. He shoved the glass door which slid open. It revealed a balcony. I expected to see plants and greenery but there were none. Beneath my feet was a solid hardwood flooring and. . . that's it. It was empty. "He was, and perhaps, will continue to be an awful human being."
"He redeemed."
"Redemption is for the innocents; those misguided and wrongly motivated."

Bhavuk leaned against the railing and surveyed me like the way he does. It felt like he was figuring out something about me. This act of his made me feel hundreds of stuff at the same time. A little important, a little scared, a little shy, and a lot more insecure. I didn't want him to notice my limitless and extremely obvious physical flaws. On the flip side, I was glad that he couldn't perceive my internal fractures, at least not like this.

His eyes sparkled. "You've got tons of firm opinions right there, huh?"
I didn't know what to answer. I sighed. "Maybe."

An icy breeze ripped through my shirt and I shivered ever so slightly. It was evening and October. The sun was dipping down and drowning in the heap of buildings in front of me. Even in its last moments, it had thrown across the vibrant oranges and yellows and reds in the sky. I had to leave in half an hour if I desired to have a normal night back at home.

Bhavuk took my hand in his. He examined my fingers before perfectly entwining them in his. It made me feel like such a prominent person that it almost scared me that I would want this all my life. I did not remember the last time someone did this to me. It must've been mom or dad. . how many years. . I didn't know.

"You're warm," he told me. I sensed that he was not. His hands were cold. 
"You're not."
"Good for us; heat transfers from a region of higher temperature to a lower one."

I smiled vaguely. I had somehow reduced the gap between us to few inches. We were close enough for me to spot the brown flecks in his iris. His spheres were a spoonful of honey. They hadn't really stood out all these time when we conversed, but now when I gazed at them. . . I didn't want to break the eye contact. 

I wondered what he saw in my mine. Boring darkness? Intolerable ennui? Usual sameness?
"Thakur?"
"Yes."

"Why. . why did you like me out of all? Which box did I tick?"
"You ticked a lot of boxes," he paused, "depth. Authenticity. Utility. Intelligence."

I wished he'd elaborate. I really, really, did wish. But then we heard laughter from the adjacent room and that seemed to bring Bhavuk out of our conversation's rhythm. "I forgot that I left Nihaara alone with them."
"With whom?"
"Arav. Kartik."
"They're here too?"
"Unfortunately." 

That made me chuckle. We traveled out of his room and entered the one beside it through the gallery. I assumed it to be a guest room for how it seemed normal with normal bed and colors, unlike the recent ones I'd visited. 

I first recognized Kartik on an armchair scrolling through his phone. Nihaara was sitting cross-legged on the bed, grinning, while Arav told her something. Did I mention that he had his head laid in her lap and her fingers were deep into his hair? I didn't know they were together.
"What did I say about maintaining distance?" Bhavuk asked, his voice demanding. The kind of voice I usually heard when I used to hate him, back then.