Unconditional Love

13. Fear

"I'm claustrophobic," Rohit admitted after sitting quietly for five minutes on the small couch. Virat sipped his tea, waiting patiently for Rohit to share more.

"It happened during my childhood at the orphanage where I lived," Rohit began, his voice trembling. "We were playing hide-and-seek, and I hid in a cupboard. Someone shut the door as a prank because they didn't like me. I screamed and screamed, but no one came. I was all alone in the dark," he said, shivering at the memory.

Virat moved closer and held Rohit's hand to stop his trembling. He took the cup from him, set it in the kitchen, and sat back down beside him.

"It kept happening," Rohit continued. "I would cry, but they kept bullying me. I tried complaining, even fighting back, but nothing worked. So, I ran away from the orphanage when I was 12."

He didn't know why it felt so easy to share this with Virat, perhaps because he knew Virat would always understand. For the first time, someone was truly listening to him—something he wasn't used to, as it had always been the other way around.

"I... try so hard, but the fear is still there," Rohit murmured, burying his face in his hands.

Virat gently pulled him into a side hug. "It's okay, Rohit. I understand. This isn't a fear that disappears overnight or even in a few years. You don't have to feel embarrassed," he said softly.

"I'm so sorry for unloading all this on you," Rohit whispered, feeling as though he was burdening Virat with his troubles.

"Never apologize for that, do you hear me?" Virat said firmly, breaking the hug to meet Rohit's eyes.

Rohit nodded at Virat's firm tone, his eyes searching for reassurance. Virat sighed, steadying himself before speaking gently. "I think it's time you realize how special you are to me. I care about you—I'm just not great with words," he admitted softly.

Rohit's lips curved into a small, heartfelt smile at those words.

"Want to try and get some sleep?" Virat asked, noticing how exhausted and tired he looked. "I'll take the couch, and you take the bed," he added with a reassuring glance.

"No, no, the couch is way too small. Your back will hurt, Sir—please let me sleep on it," Rohit protested.

Virat could sense how self-conscious Rohit felt about the apartment's size, and he didn't want to make him feel worse.

"Alright, let's do this—we'll share the bed. It's big enough for both of us," Virat suggested calmly.

Rohit hesitated, unsure of how to respond, but eventually, he simply nodded in agreement.

Virat lay staring at the ceiling, his thoughts heavy with the weight of Rohit's childhood. How hard must it have been for him, he was a child and then he ran away from the orphanage? What did he do afterward? How did he survive?

Lost in these thoughts, he suddenly asked, "If you're alone, how do you deal with this?" The question caught Rohit off guard.

Rohit turned toward Virat, hesitating before answering. "Umm... basically, I just pass out for 7-8 hours," he said quietly.

Virat sat up straight, alarmed. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Rohit sat up, leaning against the headboard, not looking at Virat. "I try to avoid dark, small spaces," he said quietly. "If you noticed, I picked this studio because it's smaller than others, but it has big windows. It makes me feel like there's enough air and space. But when it happens, and if I am alone, I just pass out for 7-8 hours. When I wake up, I rest, eat, and drink water to feel normal again. Sometimes, though, it's really exhausting," he explained.

Virat didn't know why, but he pulled Rohit into a tight hug. Rohit was taken aback for a moment, then slowly hugged him back, burying his head in Virat's chest.

"If anything like this happens again, anytime—whether it's morning or midnight, I don't care—you call me. Understand?" Virat said softly, though his tone was firm.

Rohit nodded against his chest, feeling a sense of comfort and reassurance he hadn't known in a long time.

Virat tried to pull away from the hug, but Rohit held him tighter, cuddling into him more. "Please don't let go," he whispered. Without hesitation, Virat wrapped his arms around him again, holding him close.

He pulled the comforter up to cover both of them, his mind racing. In such a short time, Rohit had trusted him enough to share his deepest fear and found comfort in his presence.

The next morning, Virat woke up and noticed Rohit was still curled up against him. He was relieved to have gotten some good sleep, especially after how exhausted he'd been the day before.

Carefully, he eased Rohit's hand from where it had been holding onto Virat's shirt, gently shifting his head to the pillow. After freshening up, he decided to make breakfast.

Rohit woke up after 30 minutes, only to be greeted by the rich aroma of fresh coffee. The scent made him snap to attention, realizing with a jolt that Virat was in his apartment.

"Where did the pancake ingredients come from? I don't remember having them here," Rohit asked, still half-dazed.

"I had them delivered," Virat replied with a grin.

"Did I say that out loud?" Rohit asked, surprised.

"Yes, you did, Rohit. Now get freshened up—these pancakes are getting cold, and we're running late for the office."

Rohit rushed to the bathroom, and they ate breakfast in silence.

Once they were in the car, Rohit turned to Virat and said, "Thank you so much for everything, Sir," his voice sincere.

Virat smiled back, not sure how to respond but appreciating the gratitude nonetheless.

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