THEM 'Ishman'

Blissful snezze

It was a regular Tuesday when Ishan woke up feeling like he'd been run over by a truck. 

He groaned, sitting up slowly, his throat feeling like sandpaper and his head pounding. 

Great, just what I need, he thought, rolling his eyes. The night before had been a late one—his creativity had him pouring over his writing until the early hours. 

Note to self: Sleep is important.

Struggling to rise, he sent a quick message to Shubman, his best friend and secret crush. Hey, I'm not feeling too great. Might need to reschedule our plans for tonight.

As he pressed send, Ishan buried himself back under the blankets, his couch becoming an impromptu fortress against the world outside. He was not ready for a sick day, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

Meanwhile, Shubman, upon receiving Ishan's message, felt a wave of concern wash over him. "Not on my watch!" he declared dramatically as if he were a superhero called to action. 

He grabbed his bag and headed out, determined to make sure his best friend was okay.

Arriving at Ishan's apartment, Shubman knocked on the door. "Ishan? It's your knight in shining armor! Open up!"

When there was no response, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

 There was Ishan, cocooned in blankets on the couch, looking like a sad burrito.

"Wow, I really need to check on you more often." Shubman teased, crossing his arms as he took in the sight. "Are you auditioning for a role in The Walking Dead?"

Ishan squinted at him through bleary eyes. "If I am, then you must be my overzealous manager, making sure I'm still 'alive.'"

"Clearly, your acting skills need work." Shubman shot back, rolling his eyes. "You look like you're one sneeze away from turning into a zombie."

"Funny" Ishan replied dryly. "I just need some soup and a good nap. You know, the essentials of life."

"Soup coming right up! I'm a culinary genius, you know." Shubman proclaimed, strutting toward the kitchen. 

He grabbed a pot and turned on the stove, channeling his inner chef. "What do you want? Chicken, tomato, or my secret 'Mystery Soup' that I can't tell you about?"

"Please don't poison me." Ishan called back, trying to sound serious but failing miserably as he chuckled. "I'd rather stick with the classic chicken soup."

"Chicken it is! One magical potion coming right up!" Shubman replied, mixing ingredients with a dramatic flair. 

He hummed a catchy tune, and Ishan couldn't help but smile. How did I get so lucky?

As Shubman worked, he occasionally glanced back at Ishan, who was now lounging on the couch, propped up with a pillow. "You know, I'd make a fabulous nurse." Shubman remarked, stirring the pot. "I'd bring soup and blankets, and I'd definitely charge extra for the eye candy."

"Ah yes, because the world needs more people like you, right?" Ishan replied, smirking. "Just what the doctor ordered: a side of Shubman."

"Exactly! Now that's a prescription I can get behind." Shubman laughed. "Consider this my service to humanity. 'Saving one friend at a time.'"

Once the soup was ready, Shubman ladled it into a bowl and brought it over to Ishan, who was trying to sit up. 

"Here you go, Mr. Sick Guy." Shubman said, handing over the steaming bowl. "This is guaranteed to cure all ailments, from the common cold to a broken heart."