ALMOST THERE

CHAPTER 5: Shooting flowers.

Dekha Hazaro Dafaa - Arijit Singh
🦢🌙🎻✨

It pierced through my gaze.

It pierced through my soul.

It pierced in every way it shouldn't have.

Even from across the room, I could practically feel the richness of the dark brown hue of those impossibly beautiful eyes as they continued to stare into mine with unmatched intensity. It seemed to probe into the very essence of my being, searching for something I wasn't ready to unveil.

What did he see?

What was he looking for?

I absolutely hated the way my heart stuttered, betraying me to myself. The room, bustling with the hum of lectures and the scribble of notes, faded into the background. It was just me and him, locked in this silent, inscrutable exchange.

His posture shifted, leaning forward to rest is chin on his hands, which remained rested against the hard desk, all while keeping his gaze effortlessly locked on mine.

A wave of heat swirled within my chest, as I felt my breathing quicken. I clutched onto the crumpled up handkerchief in my hands, desperately trying to get a hold of my nerves.

But nerves never give a shit.

I was dying on the inside. Beads of sweat lining my forehead despite the cool ambience around us.The organ beating inside my chest felt like it would burst out into a thousand pieces any freaking minute. I could scream. Like, really. I could just scream and let all the pining distress inside me break free.

But I didn't.

I never do.

Instead, I let out a deep breath and continue shooting daggers --no wait, that's harsh-- shooting...flowers (?) at him with my eyes.

That's basically what I've been doing for the last 3 months or so.
Plus, him choosing to drop his ass on a bench diagonally opposite to mine at the extreme corner of the room, giving him the perfect angle to sit and stare at me without having to go through the fatigue of craning his neck sideways isn't helping at all.

Not that I'm complaining though, cause boy, am I enjoying the view.

Get a grip, Saysha Fahaad.

He might just be staring at the wall behind you. His favourite color's white afterall.

Wait...why do I know that?
Not like it matters, anyways.

"So, the Ohm's law states that the current flowing through a conductor is directly proportional to the potential difference applied across its ends...."

Our gazes rip apart as we look at the teacher, scribbling something on the blackboard, as everyone around us turned to focus on her. I pull my gaze back to his to find him already staring.

Damn, bro.

His lashes flutter for once as he blinked before finally glancing in the other direction. But wait, what was that I just saw?

For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something in his gaze-an echo vulnerability, perhaps? It was almost imperceptible, like a whisper of wind on a still night, but it was there. My breath hitched.

Vulnerable and Shahaan?

The ever-confident, ever-composed Shahaan?

It was absurd, bewildering, and yet, oddly comforting. It made him seem almost human, almost approachable. Something that almost made me want to approach him...all over again.

I landed a tight ass slap on my cheek--in my head, ofcourse-- at the thought of it.

Vulnerability was a luxury I couldn't afford. Yet another crack in the armor I had spent years perfecting. Allowing myself to feel anything more than indifference would be admitting to a weakness I would rather die than acknowledge.

Yet, despite my resolve, a part of me couldn't help but yearn to understand the enigma that was Shahaan. To decipher the emotions behind his steady gaze, to unearth the truths hidden within his stoic demeanor.

But then, the fear-oh, the fear of what I might find, of what it might mean for me, for him.

For us.

I finally tore my gaze away, cursing at my heart to steady, my thoughts to clear. I wasn't someone who let her guard slip over a trifle, who allowed her emotions to dictate her actions. Though I highly doubt if this being just a trifle. And in that moment of silent exchange, I felt the first tremors of change, an unsettling shift in the delicate balance of my carefully controlled world.

Go to hell, Shahaan Shaikh.