Purrfect Neighbour (ShubmanGillxIshanKishan)

18

"Have you talked to him yet?"

Shubman shook his head, his gaze fixed on the floor. "Nope."

Hardik sighed and lowered himself onto the bench beside Shubman, the weight of their conversation settling in the air between them. The gym had long since emptied, leaving them alone in the echoing silence of the locker room.

"Listen, bro," Hardik began softly, brushing his fingers down the length of his track pants, "I’ve got to be real with you. Man to man."

He paused, choosing his words with care.

"Ishan warned you. To be fair, he did tell you he wasn’t the relationship type. You knew what he was involved in before you decided to get serious with him."

Shubman shrugged, the movement heavy with unspoken frustration. "Yeah, I knew. But back then, he wasn’t coming home with marks on him."

Hardik leaned back, crossing his arms as he searched for the right thing to say.

"So he’s got a couple of bruises. It happens. He’s fine. This isn’t his first time dealing with this stuff—he knows what he’s doing."

"It is a big deal!" Shubman’s voice cracked as he snapped, the pain he’d been holding in finally breaking through. "Haven’t you ever cared about anyone else besides yourself, Hardik?"

Hardik blinked, surprised by the raw emotion in Shubman’s words. He held up his hands in a gesture of peace.
"Whoa! Easy there, big guy." He shook his head slowly, his voice softening.
"You know what? I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that because you’re clearly hurting right now."

Shubman’s shoulders slumped forward, the weight of his worries pulling him down. "When is it going to end? Can you tell me that, Hardik?"
His voice was barely a whisper, heavy with fear and uncertainty.

Hardik’s face softened, his own frustration melting away in the face of Shubman’s despair. "I’m sorry, man. I wish I had an answer for you. But I don’t."

Shubman’s voice trembled as he continued, his words spilling out in a rush. "One week it’s a knife. The next, it’s a fist. What’s next? A gun?" He paused, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.
"Am I going to spend one night waiting for him to come home, only to realize he never will? Who do I even turn to for answers if that happens? Will I have to watch the news to find out? What am I supposed to do, Hardik?"

The desperation in Shubman’s voice was like a knife to Hardik’s heart. He had never seen his friend so broken, not even after the worst of his past relationships. Hardik slid closer, his hand finding Shubman’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Shubman’s head was cradled in his hands, his long, black hair falling around his face like a curtain, hiding the pain etched into his features.

"I wish I knew what to tell you, dude," Hardik said softly, his voice thick with sympathy.

Shubman remained silent, his head still buried in his hands. Hardik felt the urge to do something, anything, to ease his friend’s pain. He wrapped his arms around Shubman’s shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace, offering silent support in the only way he knew how. They sat there in the quiet, the minutes slipping by unnoticed, the world outside forgotten.

Eventually, Hardik spoke again, his voice gentle. "You’re not going to break up with him, are you?"

Shubman slowly lifted his head, his eyes staring straight ahead at the lockers, his thoughts a thousand miles away. "No."

Hardik nodded, understanding the resolve in his friend’s voice. "Then you need to talk to him. It’s been two days since you last spoke. If you wait any longer, he might think you’re done with him for good."