delicate

0. prologue

0. prologue.

_

Disco music will always remind me of the time I wished for an everlasting love, and how it felt when the love lasted but the lover left. It needs to be studied how the upbeat tunes of 90s pop always manage to put me into a pit of melancholia.

I am driving from Delhi to Nagaland, and it is pitch-black outside. This was not a planned travel. It was something that was sprung on me by my interviewer Kaju, who has now stayed at my house for three months now. The stay is long overdue, but I don't mind his company. Even if I did, he won't leave, so I have given up the fight and made peace with his presence.

"My biggest fear right now is that you are going to fall asleep and drive us off the road," he says as ABBA starts blasting from the speakers.

He is right. I am someone that should never be trusted behind a steering wheel. My mind wanders back to that one headline on the front page of Mumbai Times as my grip on the steering wheel tightens.

This is a bad idea, too insane even for me.

"Are you excited to see him?" Kaju screams above the music. "Will you introduce me? If you don't, I am going to be so sad." The knot in my stomach tightens. The reality I am in right now feels foreign. I have tried to picture this moment a million times. What if he is still mad at me? What if he hates me? It should not be like this. The way it always is with us. A million little what-ifs and mistakes taped together like a messy collage of fuckups. 

It took me years to realize that nothing hurts more than lost time. 

"What about me?" I look at him as he wraps all the blankets we have around his lanky body. "What if I am still mad at him?" 

"You are not," he answers knowingly. I hate when he is right. "I am nervous for you though!" he pulls his legs towards himself and gives me a cheeky smile, now happily bundled up in a cocoon of warmth.

_

The fresh rays of the morning sun peak through the horizon and fall on my face. The warmth feels good after a sleepless night. I slow down the car, and park it under a tree.

"Wake up."

Kaju mumbles gibberish tiredly in his sleep before slowly opening his eyes. Confused, he rises above his cozy bundle of comforters and looks around like a grumpy cat. "Are we there? I don't see any house."

I take the car keys out and open the doors. He is right. We are in the middle of nowhere. All that surrounds us are tall lush green trees and wide-ranged mountains. The scenery is beautiful, and if there wasn't a storm within me right now, I would probably go for a walk in nature.

There has to be a masochist gene in me to be doing this right now.

"There is a hotel near, go and check in. I will pick you up in an hour or two," I tell him and get out of the car.

He jumps out after me on cue and looks at me with pleading eyes before screaming, "What?! You mean I won't get to witness the reunion of Romeo and Juliet? Jack and Rose? Hades and Persephone? Devdas and Paro?!" His voice gets louder with every word, "Please don't do this to me I thought you didn't hate me anymore!"

_

I take a deep breath and nervously look around. It is a quiet street, and the morning is too fresh for the roads to be alive yet, but still the last thing I want right now is for someone to screen-record the most controversial musician and media's favorite train-wreck get thrown out of some house for trespassing. Because I am not even sure if it is his house or not. Kaju swears he has the correct address, but I have my doubts.

The motorbike parked in the driveway is white and retro, an old classic '87. He does love his bikes. So, I can still expect him to be driving one right now, even though I should not assume anything when it comes to him. I have learned that the hard way.

The door opens on the third bell.

"Who is--" the end of his sentence fades as his hazel eyes land on my face. Unkept black curls fall on his forehead, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looks beautiful. I feel lightheaded and this moment feels unreal. I have pictured this too many times. He probably was up all night working again, and I can't help but feel flushed and shaky, like my knees will give up any second now. He tends to do things to me. I don't mind.

"Heard you are hibernating in Nagaland now," I speak and don't give him a chance to reply. "Invite me in for tea."

"I need to work. I am busy." I was right, he is still mad. He takes a step back and stands straighter. I lick my lips. Remember what he tastes like.

"I am busy too. Just got done with a world tour, two years straight on the road you know," I reply as he keeps studying me, "but I still came to see you." As he stays silent and continues to look straight at me with an unreadable face, I am right back there in Bangalore cleaning his room as he dances to David Bowie's Blackstar. I am in New York offering him all of me only for him to politely decline, and we are right back in Mumbai making love on the floor of a hole-in-the-wall motel hoping to God no one finds out.

I am not a predictable woman. He can at least act a little shocked, even if just to amuse me. I am fucking shocked I am here.

"One cup of tea, and then I have to leave for some work," he steps back, and I jump inside his space like it's the only home I have. I take my shoes off and walk barefoot towards the first couch I see. Being here, halfway across the world, for the one guy, the only man that I let lie down with me on my childhood bed. The one man that slept under the night sky with me and invented new constellations.

Fucking Hell. I will stand my ground and pretend it meant nothing to me.

"Are you staying here tonight?"

"Sure."

He nods nervously and heads towards the kitchen, and we have collided yet again. Some supernovas just stay burning for eternity. 

_

a/n: eeeek, i am writing my first book! thank you for giving me a chance and please vote and save this book. it would help me a lot! welcome to the story of nina and sahil. :) -riri