The Alphabetics of Our Story

Chapter Three - Cafuné

Cafuné-  ( v.) running your fingers through the hair of someone you love

"Kartik, I swear if you even breathe in my direction one more time, I will  break up with you."

Hello, welcome to the Dynamics of Singh-Tripathi (Kartik prefers Tripathi-Singh "It rolls of the tongue as if it's meant to be, Aman") household where you would find a very adorably pouty Kartik on the couch, his long legs sprawled across with his head on the lap of a very annoyed Aman who is trying to focus on his large hefty book of Literature, struggling against Kartik's grip on the paperback.

His boyfriend rolled his eyes slightly, an amused smile painted on his lips, "Your threats are as empty, Aman ji," Aman both adored and hated the smugness in his voice, "And you have been staring at this huge ass book for four hours. Is it somehow hotter than your boyfriend who is right in front of you, begging for your attention?"

"Get off me," He grumbled, trying to focus on the words on the page that had stopped making sense some time ago. The boring printed sentences made his boyfriend even more appealing but he just didn't want him to have the satisfaction of giving in.

A very apparent smirk came across Kartik's face as he lifted himself to look into Aman's eyes. "That's not what you said last night."

The short man groaned as he buried his face in the book and Kartik's laughter echoed in his ears- a blushing Aman was never not an adorable sight. Aman groaned in annoyance, "Kartik!"

"That's exactly what you said last night."

"I hate you."

"I love you too, jaaneman."

Ninety-three days.

It had been a wonderful ninety-three days since Aman had somehow magically mustered up the courage to kiss Kartik in that cab. A very eager and anxious Kartik had kissed him once again as soon as they had entered the flat and as Aman kissed him back, both of their worries had vanished somewhere amongst their heavy breaths and hasty heartbeats.

It was as simple as that. To be honest, Aman had expected something more along the lines of trembling words and nervous confessions. But, all it took was a couple of kisses and a two-hour-long emotional conversation under the night stars for the two of them to get together. Simple enough.

Aman Tripathi had a boyfriend.

Like, actually a boyfriend.

It would, more often than not, hit him as a gentle reminder as he would stare at a sleeping Kartik beside him on the bed. Their bed. He felt more alive than he ever did. He was, for the time being, free. Free of societal burden, free from the weight of his parent's expectations, free from his own prison of guilt and shame. He was with Kartik.

And oh boy, was Kartik Singh something truly magnificent.

If Aman thought that Kartik couldn't get better than being a friend, he was proved wrong when their relationship status changed from bro hugs to cheek pecks before going to work. Out of all things, Kartik was delicate with him. Not delicate as if he was a glass that could break, but delicate as if he was something so precious.

Aman had grown up without any sort of physical affection. When you are from a small town in Uttar Pradesh, you would probably grow up amongst unsaid emotions and "hum pyaar karte h, bus dikhate nahi". That had been morphed into him too but Kartik was definitely the opposite of that. Aman lived with his heart buried deep down while Kartik wore it on his sleeve. Whenever they were together, most of the time he would be touching Aman, whether it be utterly promiscuous or entirely innocent.