𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒆

PART-5

Karan felt the sudden shift in weight, and his breath caught, eyes widening as panic flickered across his face. He clamped his arm tighter around Rudraksh's waist, voice breaking in urgency. "Rudraksh, stay with us, buddy!"

Rudraksh's head sagged forward, chin sinking to his chest, strands of his long hair falling across his pale face. A weak exhale escaped him, warm against Karan's collarbone, before his body slackened further into dead weight.

Siddharth moved fast, slipping to the other side with practiced steadiness. His hands braced Rudraksh's shoulder, fingers pressing hard, trying to keep him anchored to consciousness. "Karan," he murmured, "Let's get him to my place. It's closer."

Their pace turned into a half-drag, half-carry, shoes scraping against the uneven pavement. Karan's breath grew ragged, muscles burning as Rudraksh leaned heavier onto him with every step.

The street stretched ahead, washed in the faint orange haze of dying streetlamps. Somewhere in the distance, a lone horn cut through the silence, followed by the fading growl of an auto rickshaw. A stray dog trotted across their path, pausing to sniff the air before vanishing into the shadows.

When they reached Siddharth's house, the porch light hummed faintly, spilling an amber glow that carved long, uncertain shadows across the steps. The pillars of the two-tiered home loomed above, silent witnesses. Karan adjusted his grip once more, his shirt damp where Rudraksh's weight pressed against him.

Siddharth caught the flicker of strain tightening Karan's jaw, and with a short nod he shifted closer. His palm steadied against Rudraksh's wrist, thumb unconsciously pressing the flutter of a faint pulse, before he looped it carefully around his own shoulder. A silent breath of relief escaped him-his parents weren't home tonight. He wouldn't have to stumble through explanations with Rudraksh hanging between them.

"Sid, you go. Open the door," Karan said, shifting Rudraksh against his shoulder. One arm cinched firmly around his friend's slack waist, the other rose instinctively, fingers spreading protectively to cradle the heavy weight of Rudraksh's head so it wouldn't loll back.

Pressing his lips together, Siddharth walked towards the main gate with silent footsteps. The lock clicked, and the door creaked open, releasing a faint, musty draft from the darkened interior. Siddharth looked over his shoulder, and nodded, gesturing for Karan to come inside.

Karan forced a crooked, boyish smile. "Sid, help?" he whispered awkwardly.

Siddharth's eyes went round. "Oh, yeah." His head moved restlessly as he moved near Karan. The neighbourhood felt half-asleep yet watchful, as if shadows themselves had ears.

"Don't make a sound," Siddharth breathed, his voice barely above the hum of the porch light.

He slid Rudraksh's limp arm over his own shoulder, tightening his grip around the deadweight torso. The shift drew Rudraksh closer, his breath shallow against Siddharth's shirt. Every step inside seemed too loud, shoes brushing against the mosaic floor.

Karan mirrored the motion, his own shoulder dipping as he aligned with Siddharth's rhythm. The two moved in a quiet, clumsy unison, each step deliberate-like two dancers carrying a partner who could no longer move.

Behind them, the night sighed shut as Siddharth eased the door closed, locking out the world and sealing the three of them in the dim hush of the house.