Barrister Babu: One Shots- Until you Came.

Chapter 6: of Unicorns and Roses.

Note: Continued from Ch 4, now progressing as a short story.

They say love is a spell that binds hearts with blissful pain, a fool's affair, it's often called.

For not all love is requited.

And not all love, is pure.

Or, is it?


Anirudh's POV:- (the incident)

"Hahh...ugh..."
"Hurts...it hurts..."

"Amar bhool hoye gyachey, Saurabh. Forgive me..."

I continued to cut, willing my senses to feel what was touching my physical, outer self.
And begging my inner one to fall numb.

My soul had been set on fire the last time I saw him, and my heart went up in flames, whatever little was left of it, after sending Bondita away.

I know he isn't alive. Not anymore. Not after sacrificing himself for me...once again.

I thought I was brave. I thought I was good.
But all I had ever been, was a piece of shit.

Repressed memories.

'The patient cannot remember the whole of what is repressed in him, and what he cannot remember may be precisely the essential part of it.. He is obliged to repeat the repressed material as a contemporary experience instead of remembering it as something in the past.'

Memories that float away to a faraway part of your innermost existence, your mind's safe haven protecting you from your own evil thoughts, your own painful memories.

They stay there, thriving on your subconscious, living and dwelling in what makes you insecure, what makes you hurt.

Trying to crawl back out from an untamed jungle, they are nothing but the devil's spawns creeping through hellish terrains of scarring remembrance.

Eight years ago, when Bondita had left– no, when I made her leave– I was devastated.
The villagers were too menacing to be around during that period of time, and I was scared beyond death when the fear of losing Bondita, in sooth, finally sunk in.

Taking heed of Baba's advice of talking to a therapist at least once, I took off for London.

I wish I wouldn't have, for everything came back.

Bit by bit, the sinister past that had been locked away for years, finally broke free from its confines.

"Saurabh...!"

I screamed out, and a guttural cry escaped my lips.

The one I shouldn't have forgotten, the one who stood by me since birth, the one person I truly...

Was gone.

And I couldn't do anything about it.

As I began to cut another symbol into my flesh, another mark of the disgrace I had been to my love, I was interrupted.

Before I could turn around, a pair of sturdy hands hugged me from behind.

'Warmth, I feel warmth...'

The same hands now held me tight, as if I'd die the moment they let go.

But wasn't I already dead?

I opened my now closed eyes to see a set of two inky hues, eyelashes wet with moisture, and the lips that accompanied this wistful face were now quivering.

With shock? With disgust? With anger? Maybe...hate?

As I tried to say something or explain myself, the two quivering friends kissed my own pair.

Surprisingly, I kissed back. For it wasn't just a kiss. It was a moment of consolation, of peaceful bliss in smouldering angst, of love in hateful times. It was so very pleasant− the softness that touched my chapped skin, the fragrant musk that I got a whiff of, and the sweet honey I could taste.

It was wonderful, for it felt so good. It felt...nostalgic.

But then, as this sweet peck continued to become a longer affair with a sensual possible outcome, I remembered.

The reason it felt nostalgic, or should I say...gave me more reasons to burn myself to death.

Everything.

Everything reminded me of him.

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A/N:- Hello, dear readers! I'm back...! So sorry that I wasn't able to continue with the consist schedule. Nothing has magically changed, but I feel much better now. I can see things more clearly, and that's what truly matters, right? So, I'll try to keep this story(or stories) going for as long as I can...stay tuned!

Love, Iris. <3