Finding Love

Chapter 26

Saif kept himself busy, strolling up and down the tiny aisle between the royal mahogany wardrobe and the massive window in Kabir's room. His brother was drifting through a deep slumber, the meds working their way through the thick blue wreaths of his feverish delirium. It was three days, and all Kabir had done, was shift postures, laying peacefully asleep all through. Saif had done all that he could, to bring down the sudden bout of fever that had happened to grip Kabir. Every time he called out to him, Kabir answered with a soft hum, and a crinkled forehead, eyebrows drawing near for a short moment, before he shifted to a more comfortable side.

Saif had worried himself sick. The doctor who had visited a day before, had prescribed a few drugs, stating that Kabir had had a massive stress breakdown, and that it was likely that his immune system had not taken well to all the mental fatigue. Saif was unable to point his finger down on anything. And it tore him apart, to think that probably Kabir's thoughts, wild like the untamed horses of archaic emperors, would race scot-free, into unseen territories, if the leash be left.

Pacing up and down, Saif's gaze was trained to the ground, his thoughts going berserk.

Walking up to Kabir's side, he sat down next to him, staring at his brother's face for a long moment, before a shaky breath escaped past his lips. Taking Kabir's hand into his, Saif traced warm patterns on his palm, squeezing it once, before letting it go.

"Beerah," Saif whispered, carefully caressing Kabir's chestnut hair.

Kabir stirred, slightly, before turning towards Saif, and dropping his head into his brother's lap, completely unaware. Saif's heart swelled, with an unknown cacophony of emotions, screaming to find their means.

Several hours later, as dusk stretched through the city of Agra, Beerah slowly stirred awake, his body bordering back on normal temperature, eyes burning, achning to open, yet avoiding the blinding light streaking the room through the palacial window. Facing the wall away from the light, Kabir opened his eyes, looking around the room, until his gaze settled over Saif.

Sitting next to him, his head dropping off behind with sleep, and palm securely wrapped around his own, was his brother, in a pair of dirty grey track pants and a plain black t-shirt, one leg folded at the knee, to support Kabir's resting head, and the other slung off the edge of the bed. His eyes were shut, as he snored softly, fatigue lines showing on his features, even more prominent because of the dark circles under his eyes.

Kabir pushed himself up, his joints protesting in fervish agony, into a stably comfortable posture, against the stacked up pillows.

Sensing movement, Saif's eyes shot open. He sat up from his slumped position in a jiffy, surprising, no startling, Kabir a little.

"Beerah," Saif whispered, before physically checking Kabir's signs of wellbeing. Once sure, that the fever had gone down considerably, Saif reached out for the water jug at the side table, and poured half a glass, offering it to Kabir. There was silence for a few moments as Beerah gulped down the water, before releasing a sigh, and settling back into his pillows.

Both brothers said not a word, as if savoring each other's presence, for long moments, before Saif finally looked up, catching his brother's gaze.

"How long have I been sick?"
Kabir spoke before Saif could even breathe.

"Three days. Considering that it's 3:30 A.M now, then, four days," Saif replied in an almost monotonic stoicism, if not for the rebellious streak of emotions evident in his voice. He had stayed up all along, not leaving Kabir's side, practically dwelling in his room, since Kabir had taken ill.

Kabir's eyebrows shot up, surprised.

"That is... bad! I've not had a shower for three days then! Oh my!"