EYES LIKE THAT (Shubman Gill X Ishan Kishan)

was he handsome?

Ishan yanks his hand away, "Shub, tell me where we are going."

Shubman wheels around to face him, "ISHU?!"

"Yeah, what?" Ishan asks, surprised by his outburst.

"He just called you Ishu," he emphasizes, staring at Ishan in disbelief.

"Yeah, that's kind of my name."

"What the hell, Ishan, that's not funny."

"Ok, then, tell me what's the problem here."

Shubman takes a deep breath, his voice a little shaky as he says
"Was he that handsome?"

"Have you finally lost it?"

"Did he hit on you?" Shubman glowers, his jaw tense. He's looking at Ishan as if his whole world depended on his answer.

Ishan is about to question Shubman's sanity again when someone stumbles past them, pushing them against each other. Shubman puts his hand against the wall, so that Ishan doesn't get hurt.

They still haven't made it out of the exit, where drunk people are bustling around, giggling and being obnoxious. Ishan feels a slight sliver of excitement as it occurs to him why Shubman is bothered so much. But what he is thinking can't be true, right? He was literally on the verge of hooking up with a girl, earlier in the club.

Still, Ishan couldn't deny how affected he was by Shubman's mere presence. The pure rush of exhilaration he felt now that he was pressed against him, as if high on some drugs.

Ishan pulls himself off the wall quickly. He bites his lip, looking up at Shubman, wanting to he pressed up against him like there was no space left in the world, his body against his, their lips against each other till the whole world disappeared.
He mentally slaps himself, blushes at the image in his mind and looks away.

Shubman stares at him like he was starved.

"You're driving me crazy, you know that right?"

A thrill courses through Ishan at those words. Someone suddenly shoves Ishan from behind, just as he is about to answer. Shubman shoots the clumsy drunkard a murderous glare, who scurries away quickly.

"Let's get out of here first, yeah?" Shubman asks impatiently, and not waiting for an answer he quickly pulls Ishan through the crowd to where their driver is standing.

"I'll drive, keys please," he says to the driver, who hesitatingly pulls out the keys.

"Didn't you drink?" Ishan asks, finally focusing on his surroundings.

"Not a drop. I would never drive drunk with you next to me."

"What about the rest of the team, sir?" The driver manages to speak up, his voice trembling a bit from nervousness.

"It's alright. They'll find a way. You won't have to take the blame, I promise," Shubman assures the driver while getting in the car, gesturing Ishan to sit in the passenger seat.
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"Where are we?" Ishan asks, awed by the hallway of the house they were in, with its framed art hanging from the intricately decorated walls. It's even more impressive than the ethereal garden outside; Ishan secretly thought it was better than the garden of the 5 star hotel they were staying in.

"It's a house I bought today. I mean, I've been thinking of buying it for a while but I just completed the money transaction today."

"You're unbelievable," Ishan mutters. Only Shubman could be casual about buying a house like this.

"Do you want water?" Ishan hears Shubman ask from the kitchen.

"No." He was still confused as to why Shubman had brought him there.

"You're the first person I wanted to show it to," Shubman says softly, appearing from the kitchen, as if reading his mind.

Ishan can't help but blush. He hates how Shubman treats him like a friend but somehow manages to say things that make him feel so much more than that. Though talking to him was his favorite way of spending his time, it was dangerous for his heart.

Shubman sits down on a chair in the dark side of the drawing room, Ishan watches him close his eyes, enjoying the comfortable silence. He smiles and takes a seat next to him.

Suddenly his phone buzzes, "Pretty boy, u better save this number :)" reads the text message.

"That Emraan Hashmi wannabe is texting you?" Shubman says looking annoyed, leaning to look at Ishan's phone, "Pretty boy!?"

"Oh my God, stop peeking at my phone!" Ishan feels embarrassed for some reason.

He frowns, "I haven't been holding myself back, just to see that cockroach put his hands all over you."

"Holding yourself back from.... what?" Ishan asks, his heart stopping.

Shubman groans, "I don't know," he pauses, his emotions raw, "I don't know anything, it seems. I felt like I was about to fly into a rage, when I saw him touching you. Touching you like he.....Ishu, I wanted to—"
Ishan reaches for Shubman's hand and takes it, his instinct leading him. Shubman stiffens, looking surprised.

His eyes darken as he brings his mouth close to Ishan, murmuring, "Don't do this Ishan. If you do this, I would never let anyone touch you. I would never let you go."

A startled sound escapes Ishan's mouth at his words, which makes Shubman wince. He pulls his hand away.

"See, in some ways I'm worse than that worm, Rehaan," he laughs mirthlessly.

"I forgot his name the moment you took my hand," Ishan blurts out.

These words seem to wash away any self-control Shubman had. He pulls Ishan toward him, hard and eager.
Ishan steals a glance at his lips, ever since that day he caught the girl with Shubman, he had been feeling jealous, wondering what it would like to be kissing those lips.

Shubman notices him staring, and his breathing turns ragged.
There are just inches in between them.

Oh.

God.

I want you to touch me, Ishan begs Shubman with his eyes. Shubman brings his hand to touch Ishan's face, tracing it slowly and settling on his lips. He pries them open—

Ishan's stomach grumbles.

There is a pause. Ishan's face reddens all the way through. What just happened?

"I'll get us something to eat," Shubman says, holding back his laughter.
Ishan flushes deeply, and buries his face in his hands. He felt so embarrassed he wanted to bury himself in a field of mud and never emerge.

Ishan feels relieved when he comes back some wine and crackers. He needed alcohol in his blood right now. He was still red around his face.

He takes the glass from Shubman, their fingers graze and Ishan feels the little touch in his very core. His hands become shaky, spilling the wine over himself and most of the seat.

"I am such an idiot!" Ishan exclaims, frustrated at himself. He definitely was going to bury himself today, "I'm sorry, Shub. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"It's alright. We can clean it up later. Just sit."

"Where?" Ishan looks around, the house was still a bit bare since not all furniture had been shifted in. "I can't sit on the seat because my stupid self ruined it."

"Sit on my lap then," Shubman slaps his thigh, looking at Ishan amusedly.
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