Purrfect Neighbour (ShubmanGillxIshanKishan)

3

Ishan was always in his space.

Every day, whether morning or evening, Ishan somehow found a reason to invade Shubman’s apartment. It had been two weeks since the game, and apparently, something was always malfunctioning or broken in Ishan’s place. Today, however, he didn’t even bother with the usual pretense; he simply waltzed in as soon as Shubman opened the door, plopped down on the couch, and changed the channel that Sara had been watching. Naturally, Sara wasn’t pleased and meowed loudly until Shubman asked Ishan to change it back.

Shubman sat at his breakfast bar, absentmindedly stirring his spoon through a container of yogurt. It wasn’t that Shubman particularly minded Ishan’s company; it was just that he was always there.

“What are you eating?” Ishan wandered into the kitchen, his tone casual. “It looks good. Mind if I have one?”

Before Shubman could reply, Ishan was already rifling through the fridge. Sure, why not, Shubman thought sarcastically. You already act like you pay the rent here anyway.

Shubman was already in a foul mood. One of his clients in Brooklyn had stiffed him again—it was the third time in five weeks. He’d been working with the guy for nearly a year, transforming him from an office schlub into a man with a defined six-pack. But lately, it seemed like the guy was trying to ghost him, avoiding the confrontation of ending Shubman’s services directly.

Ishan pulled out a stool and sat on it, peeling back the cover of the yogurt. “Gluten-free,” he remarked, reading the label. “I hope it tastes good.”

Shubman didn’t respond; his thoughts were miles away, trying to figure out the best way to deal with his client problem.

“Oh, you’ve got some here. Let me get it.” Ishan reached over and gently swiped away the yogurt on Shubman’s chin with his thumb. “Much better,” he said with a small smile, then went back to eating his yogurt.

Shubman looked at him curiously. "Why are you always here? Don’t you have any other friends?"

Ishan slowly set his spoon down in the yogurt. "I have friends," he said quietly. "Why? Is there a problem with me being here?"

Shubman wondered how one person could be so clueless. "Yes, there’s a problem. You’re always here. You make excuses and barge in, even when no one invited you. You just come in and act like you live here, and I’m supposed to just put up with it." Shubman took a spoonful of yogurt. "And Sara doesn’t even like you, and she likes everyone." All that pent-up frustration rushed out of Shubman, and for a moment, it felt good to get it off his chest.

"I see." Ishan’s voice was barely above a whisper as he pushed back his stool and stood up. "I’ll get out of your hair then. I know when I’m not wanted."

Shubman observed Ishan’s face, realizing he had hurt his friend’s feelings. He hadn’t meant for it to come out so harshly, but Ishan had really been getting on his nerves.

"Ishan, I’m sorry," he said as Ishan walked past him toward the door. "I didn’t mean for it to come out like that."

"Nah, you meant it." Ishan slipped on his shoes at the door. "That’s how everyone sounds when they mean what they say." He placed his hand on the knob, twisting it to open the door. "It’s cool. I didn’t mean to be a bother." With that, Ishan walked out and closed the door behind him.

Shubman stared at the closed door for a moment or two. The sudden quietness in the apartment felt strange. He hadn’t meant to hurt Ishan; he wouldn’t have minded him coming over if it was less frequent. But from the way he had phrased it, Shubman guessed Ishan thought he didn’t want him over at all. Well, at least it gave him some peace in the house for the time being.