In His Custody ✎ (MaNan)

✰ 10 - second chance

One chotu question for you beautiful readers... Should I write multiple POVs, just like the show? I wanted you guys to relate to all the characters in some way. :P Or do you want it exclusively in MaNan's POV?

Thank you for your continual support! Will you keep it going? :P

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Cabir

"This is the Bandra-Worli sea link, you guys. It is one of India's biggest engineering developments. Twelve of our partner college's seniors helped build this masterpiece." Pride glimmered as I stated some facts; our college was indeed one of the best in the city.

We were sandwiched by the ocean on both sides and were several feet above the sea, almost afloat by the bridge that could withstand gigagrams at a time. Back in the day, it was one of our favourite drive-through spots: everyone in our friendship circle would bring their partner and ride this smooth road while having a couple of romantic moments.

We would take the Western Express highway right after school, spend half our allowance money on the tolls and then relax on the shore with a couple of vintage styled hexagonal glasses, that were just as tall as our fingers could hold, solely dunked in water to wash off the chai they served another customer with. Nevertheless, the filth associated with it never was at par with the excitement and taste of the tea made from such stalls. Also, for six rupees, what more could one ask? 

"Mumbai is actually so beautiful." Pamela was peering through the glass that I forcibly shut. Open vehicles weren't allowed on the link. Staying underneath the starless late night sky and being enveloped by the humidity outside that condensed on the glass as dewdrops gave me a reality check, that I was indeed in Mumbai and not Manchester.

"Yeah..." I tapped my fingers on the rim of the steering wheel. The car as a whole we rented for the night, as I knew getting drunk was not an option: at least for me. "I guess it's more than just the memories."

"I hope Manik is okay back there alone." I wouldn't be worried about him as long as he didn't overdose on his cigarette stash–which wasn't to be a surprise considering the craze he's putting himself through lately.

Alex was a little too curious. "Why is Manik like this?"

"Like what?"

"Explosive... inconsistent..." I scorned to myself making silent remarks on their judgments. Baggage, we all have some, don't we?

"It's who he is." They were all expecting more than that from me at least. I looked into the distance of the highway. "We've lost what defined us and now in the process of coping, we're hurting each other because only the two of us know the degree of that demise."  

"And you're okay with it? The hatred?" Bill interrogated, not as convinced.

I parallel parked the car in the worst way I possibly could and then turned the engine off. "Let's go."

The hall wasn't empty, but there was a weird vibe to it; it was the first time that I walked in there alone–one out of six. The troop followed behind, but they weren't tight enough with me to be completely myself around. We sat on a table away from our original one, for pre-drinks.

"I'm going to go with the classic: Brewmaster's Barley."

Pamela shot in her order. "I'll take the Cosmopolitan, can I have extra cranberries on top?" Her cheeky request was promptly complied to. I rolled my eyes at the waiter. Foreigners really had some respect in the country.

My vision spread upon a young familiar lad seated on a stool behind the counter at a distance. He wore a green plaid shirt, unbuttoned over his black tank possibly, tuning an instrument that I was certain was a guitar. The only thing missing was the cap we'd gotten accustomed to seeing.