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I do a bit of journaling sometimes. Recently, I did this Ishman one. So thought of sharing this with you guys... UwU
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Summary:
Different people, different issues.
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Note:
TRIGGER WARNING: CONTAINS DESCRIPTION OF SEXUAL HARASSMENT.
This is a RPF, nothing in this fic is real, it is just my imaginary depiction of the characters. All rights reserved.
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Scent of a Man
Chapter 9: Scent of a Sandstorm
Hardik eye's flicked open. He was practically drenched in sweat, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. Puzzled, he rubbed his eyes, trying to piece together why he was awake at this ungodly hour.
And suddenly, it hit him; ISHAN! Ishan was sick!
"Kuchh nahi huya mujhe, bas thoda sa bukhar hi to hain! Mar nahi jaunga isse"— this was what Ishan had told him before he left his room. Hardik had frowned at the words, never had he ever liked people joking about death. But Ishan was not ready to listen to him at all.
"Agar tumhe bhi bukhar ho jaye to?", he had insisted,"Risk nehi le sakte hain, please samjho Hardik." Hardik couldn't protest, it was true after all. But he was so scared, so scared to leave; how could he leave Ishan at this state? What if something were to happen to Ishu— how would he forgive himself then?
But Ishan was having none of it, he almost threw Hardik outta his room, saying,"Agar tabiyat zyada kharab lagega to call kar dunga." Hardik didn't trust him, obviously, but he had no other option other than coming back to his room. It was not like he could complain to someone that his boyfriend would not let him stay in his room.
Call! Had ishan called? What was the time now?
Hardik quickly grabbed his phone from the bedside table— ah! It was exact 2:50! He opened his call log, nope, no missed calls from Ishan. Did that mean Ishu was okay? God he hoped so!
But something inside Hardik's head was gnawing at him, telling him that something was off. He tossed and turned quite a few times, telling himself not to worry much, but that didn't help at all. It only fueled his anxiety, how could he get any updates on Ishan? He could call, but Ishan was probably asleep— he shouldn't disturb him. But what if his fever got even higher, how would that babyish boy manage everything by himself?
With a frustrated grunt, hardik sprang up from the bed; he couldn't take this anxiety any longer, he had to do something! But what?
What if he went to check on Ishu? If he was not asleep, he could open the door, and if not, Hardik could just inform the receptionist about the situation and probably get a keycard to Ishan's room.
