THEM 'Ishman'

Wrapped in You

It was another cozy evening, the kind where the rain outside pattered against the windows in a rhythmic lullaby. 

The world outside seemed blurry and magical, the streetlights glowing softly through the haze of falling raindrops. 

Inside their apartment, the air was warm and inviting, the soft scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon wafting through the room.

The golden glow of a small table lamp cast the room in warmth, making the space feel like a snug cocoon amidst the cold drizzle. 

Ishan was curled up on the couch, completely swallowed by an oversized hoodie—one of Shubman's, of course. 

The sleeves dangled past his hands as he clutched a steaming mug of hot chocolate, the marshmallows melting into a creamy swirl and the steam curling up to kiss his nose as he sipped it contentedly. 

His dark eyes followed the rain trickling down the glass panes, his lips curled into a soft, thoughtful smile.

Shubman sat beside him, legs stretched out, a thick book resting on his lap though his attention had wandered from its pages.  

Every so often, his eyes flickered away from the pages, glancing at Ishan with quiet fondness and mild suspicion. 

The boy had been unusually quiet for the past hour, his trademark chatter absent, his energy curiously subdued, which was a rare occurrence for someone so full of boundless energy and mischief. 

Shubman, ever watchful, knew this silence wasn't innocent.

Finally, Shubman closed the book with a decisive thud and turned fully toward him.

"Why are you so quiet, Sugar Tornado?" Shubman asked, placing his book down and fixing Ishan with a knowing look.

Ishan tilted his head,  feigning innocence as a slow smile tugged at his lips.

"Quiet? Me? Never." His tone was light, but his sparkling eyes betrayed him.

Shubman narrowed his gaze, leaning back against the couch. 

He knew better than to trust that expression. "Uh-huh. Spill it. What are you plotting this time?What's that chaotic little brain of yours cooking up?"

"Nothinggg..." Ishan drawled, elongating the word as if to sell his point. 

He set his mug on the coffee table and stretched before hopping off the couch in one smooth motion, the hoodie's hem brushing his knees. "Just thinking...."

"Oh, no. That's never good." Shubman muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

"...How fun it would be to—" Before Ishan could finish, he darted toward the window and flung it open. 

The sudden rush of cold air and rain hit like a splash of reality, droplets flying into the room and splattering the polished wood floor and the nearby cushions. 

Shubman groaned audibly.

"You little teeny tempest! Are you crazy? Shut that window before we flood the place!"

Ishan ignored him, leaning halfway out the window to stick his hand into the downpour. He giggled as the raindrops hit his palm, their coolness making him shiver delightfully.

"It's so nice! Come on, Shubu, let's dance in the rain!"

Shubman stared at him like he'd just suggested wrestling a crocodile. "Dance? In the rain? No. Absolutely not."

"Pleaaase..." Ishan whined, turning around to give him the patented puppy-dog eyes, a lethal combination of wide, pleading irises and a pout that could rival a child's.