It was a bright Saturday morning, the kind where the city seemed to hum with an energy of its own—cars honking in cheerful impatience, street vendors shouting out deals, and early risers enjoying their stolen moments of peace before the crowds swarmed in.
The sun hung low in the sky, bathing everything in a soft golden light, and a cool breeze whispered through the trees, taking the edge off the rising warmth.
Shubman walked with his hands casually tucked in his pockets of his hoodie, his long strides making it easy to keep up with Ishan, who was practically skipping ahead like an excited kid.
"Remind me again why we're at a flower market?" Shubman teased, his hands lazily tucked into the pockets of his jacket.
Ishan rolled his eyes but couldn't hold back the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"Because it's peaceful and because some of us don't need constant noise to feel alive." He said simply.
"Peaceful?" Shubman echoed, side-stepping a little boy who sprinted past with a balloon in hand.
"There are people everywhere, half the vendors are shouting, and—oh look—there's someone arguing over petunias."
Ishan ignored him, instead slowing down to admire a stall overflowing with vibrant marigolds. The bright orange and yellow blooms practically glowed in the sunlight, and for a moment, his expression softened.
Shubman caught the look.
"You're actually serious about this, huh?" Shubman said, his teasing tone lightening.
"Flowers make everything better. Even you." Ishan replied.
"Harsh! And here I thought I was already pretty great." Shubman grinned.
"Delusional and cocky." Ishan muttered under his breath, though there was no malice behind the words.
The two of them moved deeper into the market, where the scent of fresh blooms mingled with whiffs of brewing coffee from a small stand nearby.
A vendor arranging bouquets called out cheerfully, waving them over.
"Something special for your pretty boyfriend, gentlemen?" the woman asked, her eyes twinkling as she glanced between the two of them.
Shubman smirked, but Ishan immediately flushed a soft pink, spluttering, "We're not—he's not—"
"Relax, bluebell..." Shubman interrupted smoothly, flashing the vendor an easy grin. "He's just embarrassed because he's not used to people assuming I'm the one who brings flowers."
Ishan shot him a look that could have withered the daisies nearby, but the vendor just chuckled and moved on.
"You're insufferable." Ishan muttered as they continued walking.
"And yet you're still here. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" Shubman replied, bumping his shoulder lightly.
Ishan's lips twitched into a reluctant smile, but he hid it by looking down at the tulips lining the next stall.
The pair continued weaving through the flower-lined aisles, stopping every now and then when something caught Ishan's eye.
He had a quiet way of observing—soft murmurs to himself as he leaned closer to certain flowers, fingertips brushing against delicate petals.
Shubman, for all his teasing, watched quietly from the sidelines, a fondness settling over his features that he didn't bother to hide.
At one stall, Ishan's attention lingered on a small collection of daisies—simple, white, and cheerful.
YOU ARE READING
THEM 'Ishman'
FanfictionHieee to all dear sweet potatoes there.. Here, I am with another book of mine, yours, and our beloved 'Ishman'. This book is just going to contain love and peace, not a mature scene but I can't take the guarantee as this is Ishman there would be lit...
