tum saath ho ya naa ho (kya farq hai?)

Ishan is standing in front of the cafe. It's been years since he was here last. With every passing second, his heart rate keeps rising. He crosses his arms around himself and keeps tapping his feet on the pavement. Every car that barely slows down nearby makes his heart leap to his throat. He might as well be having another anxiety attack soon.

It's 9:07 pm. He was supposed to be here at 9:00 pm. He was never the one to be late between the two of them. Maybe he won't be here and maybe it'll all be for the better. For his heart, it's the one thing he has learnt to do so well in the past years, consoling it by telling lies. A couple more won't change anything.

Ishan turns around and checks himself out in the glass. Would he notice the changes first or would he still manage to find everything that stayed the same? Ishan gulps and looks away before turning back to the road. Every second feels like a lifetime. Maybe he should leave too.

Despite the way his heart has been acting, dreading this meeting, it would be a lie to say that with every passing moment in which he doesn't show up, his heart does not keep sinking lower, and the anxiety turns into something worse... more like sadness. He didn't forget about it, right? No. He could not. How could he?

Ishan takes one last look at the road and all the vehicles passing by. It was nice to have hope even if for a short while. He nods to himself, accepting it. It is what it is. He'll probably spend the night walking around the block, might have some food at some random place if he feels like it, but he can't go back to a cold empty apartment right now. Not after hoping made him realize how warmth feels like after so long.

Ishan starts to walk away when he hears a car halt close by. He doesn't stop until he hears the same sweet voice call him after so long.

"Ishan!"

Ishan halts, heart thumping, turns to see Shubman struggling and stumbling out of the taxi in a hurry with a duffle bag in one hand.

Shubman balances himself. Was Ishan leaving? How could he? But maybe he never was one of those people who waited. He hands the cash to the driver without checking, asks him to keep the change and stays there, heaving.

Both of them staring at each other, feet frozen on the spot. Were the past years even real? It's funny how despite their racing hearts, it's suddenly easier to breathe, as if the same air that kept choking them all these years tonight decided to breathe life into them.

Shubman gulps. Should he say sorry for being late? But Ishan was leaving, wasn't he? Should he say sorry for everything else? Say sorry? For what though? Will Ishan forgive him? Why would he? And moreover who even is he to be the one giving out forgivenesses when he is just at fault too.

Ishan wants to run to him and hit him really hard. Then... then pull him in a hug and complain. To him, all about him. He would have done all that if everything was still the same. But he forces a smile instead.

So we are being civil now? Shubman hates it, but if this is how things are now, he can do nothing about it. What was he even expecting? That he... Shubman looks away and adjusts the bag in his hand. He looks back and forces the hardest smile of his life and walks closer to him. He looks around the place and all the memories flooding back feel enough to drown him.

Ishan walks to him too. What are they even doing? Who have they become? He takes a glance at Shubman's bag and his heart drops a bit. He looks up to Shubman at a loss of words. What can you say to the person who used to know every single detail about your life once and now barely knows your address?

Shubman looks up at the board hanging above them outside this tiny cafe. Smith's. Open 8 p.m. to 5 a.m.

"It has been so long," he says, remembering how glad they were to find this place back then.