Purrfect Neighbour (ShubmanGillxIshanKishan)

28

Ishan.

After two long years, there he was, standing before Shubman as if no time had passed at all. His smile was soft, almost tender, as if he’d merely taken a stroll down the lane and decided to stop by. The same man Shubman had loved with an intensity that sometimes kept him awake at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering how something so beautiful had slipped through his fingers. A man he had missed in ways that words could never fully capture, his absence a shadow that lingered over every moment, every thought.

And now, here he was, not a memory or a distant dream, but real and tangible, his presence filling the space that had felt so empty without him. Shubman’s heart pounded in his chest, the shock of seeing Ishan again rendering him silent. It was as if time itself had frozen, and all he could do was stand there, unable to believe that this was anything but a cruel mirage. Surely, the real Ishan wouldn’t dare to just appear like this, smiling as if all the hurt, all the pain, had never existed.

Ishan's smile wavered slightly, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. "Shubi?" His voice was soft, laced with a hint of worry as he waved a hand gently before Shubman’s eyes. "It's me, Ishan."

Shubman blinked, slowly returning to the present. "Yeah. I know who you are."

The cold edge in Shubman’s voice caused Ishan’s smile to fade, leaving behind a fragile silence.

Ishan shifted his weight, nervously wiping his hands on his jeans—a small, familiar gesture that tugged at something deep within Shubman. "Um, do you think we could talk?"

Shubman nodded, the movement slow and deliberate. "Uh, yeah." He stepped aside, his hand still on the doorknob as Ishan walked into the apartment, each step tentative, as if he, too, was unsure of where they stood.

"Hey, Shubi! I'm heading out now."

Yashasvi’s voice broke through the tension, and suddenly, he was there, duffel bag in hand, his eyes widening as they landed on Ishan. The air thickened, the room practically vibrating with the unspoken tension between the three of them. Ishan’s gaze hardened as he looked Yashasvi up and down, his arms crossing in a gesture that seemed both defensive and aggressive.

"You're the guy from the mall," Ishan said, his tone carrying a hint of disdain.

"It's Yashasvi," the smaller man corrected, though the flicker of anxiety in his eyes showed he wasn’t quite confident. He had a sinking feeling that Ishan knew exactly who he was.

Ishan’s expression didn’t change; his disdain was clear, and it stung.

Yashasvi turned to Shubman, his eyes pleading for reassurance. He wasn’t scared of Ishan—at least not in the physical sense—but of losing what he had found with Shubman. The fear of being overshadowed by someone from the past was all too real.

"Um, I have to go," Yashasvi mumbled, slipping his hand into Shubman’s, his grip tight, as if holding on to the last bit of security he had.

Shubman lowered his head, brushing his lips softly against Yashasvi’s. "Okay, have fun."

Yashasvi nodded, his fingers lingering in Shubman’s hand for a heartbeat longer before he had to let go. He cast one last glance between the two men, a silent farewell to whatever certainty he thought he had, and then slipped out of the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him.

"So, you and mall boy, huh?" Ishan’s voice broke through the stillness, laced with a bitterness that didn’t go unnoticed.

"His name is Yashasvi," Shubman corrected him, guiding Ishan into the living room.