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the joy of simplicity

He feels her presence before she even enters the flat. 

If he’s being honest, he’s never had to attune himself to her. It’s something that’s happened since perhaps the first day they properly met, in Vinil’s empty office which boasted of nothing but a table and three chairs, professionally lined up into a space that Sid had been intimidated to enter before he’d even seen it completely. He’d thought, initially, that it was her sound, the chirp in her voice that’d get his attention no matter what corner of the set he really was at, but he knows different, now.

He knows, now, that it’s not just her voice - knows that it’s in the way she’ll always be the first one his eyes find on their own accord, in the way she’ll run up to him in the middle of the something just to tell him a joke she’s read seven hours ago. It’s endearing, he admits, but it’s natural. 

He’s in the balcony of his flat, looking out at the Mumbai traffic with a strange fondness, when the door opens predictably. She might try to be discreet about it, but he can picture the way she’s trying to toe her shoe off without knocking the hundreds of things on his shoe rack, taking cautious steps into the living room. 

Oscar jumps on her before Sid can even make his way out and he can’t bite the smile back when he hears her squeals and giggles, trying to match his dog’s enthusiasm with her own. It’s a close call, Sid admits, with a brief thought directed to the amount of energetic people he’s surrounded himself with. When he does walk out of his bedroom, he sees her right where he’d predicted: sitting cross legged on the sofa with an easily amused Oscar at her feet, jumping up to lick her to the best of his ability. She laughs and yelps, tickling him and scratching behind his ears, things she knows only further enthuse him. 

He watches silently for a few seconds before he dashes in, ever the knight in shining armor. “Oscar,” he reprimands, even though his tone isn’t even close to firm. “That’s my girlfriend, not yours.”

She raises her eyebrow at him questioningly. “What gave you that impression?” She mocks, turning all her attention to the mess of hyperactivity before her. Oscar just looks thoroughly impressed, like he’s understood every word she’s said, and goes about making his claim on her.

She’s barely had the chance to softly push him away when Sid sweeps in, effectively throwing himself on her lap as he gets between her and Oscar. 

“Oof!” She groans, hands flying almost immediately to push him off of her. Oscar gets excited by this turn of events, by the supremely hyper version of Sid that only ever comes about when he’s around her. “Sid, you’re heavy, yaar!”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. 

“So much pyaar for me that you can’t even differentiate a compliment from an insult? It’s okay, sweetheart,” he speaks in a sickingly sweet voice, says ‘sweetheart’ even though he knows she hates that term of endearment. She scrunches her face in annoyance. “I know you meant that I should eat more,” he adds sneakily.

She scoffs, void of any apprehension. “Eat more than what you already do and you’ll officially be consuming as much as a whole family does,” she retorts. Her hands come back up to push him away. “Honestly, get off! The whole couch is free. Please take a seat, Malhotra Saab,”

He grudgingly pulls himself off her lap and onto the space next to her, taking in her disheveled appearance. “Your face is gleaming,” he muses with an undertone of amusement.

She fixates him with her best glare, reaches forward almost immediately to wipe her face and hands with the sleeve of his shirt. “All thanks to this guy!” She nods briefly at Oscar, who’s overjoyed by her attention. Sid asks him to sit before he can even try to yelp up again, and he looks positively distraught.