Hamesha, Yours!

-11 and 11.5-

A familiar tune, familiar beats with a familiar voice rang in the hallway. Harshad was passing by the hallway when the sickening familiarity struck him. The rhythmic pain of the flow flinched him but his ego soon overpowered fear and a devious smug veiled him. The mind ruled over the heart and turned the tables. It wasn't a myth and the complex psychology held mysterious supremacy. But, in his case, Harshad controlled his mind was what more suited the game, the other way around was a facade that only testified that his mind drugged himself and he dragged it along everywhere. He walked down the hallway where the pain-stricken broken heart sang along. Out of tune? Nope. Out of sync? Not really. Out of rhythm? Nope. Out of anything? No, but bad timing? Sure shot.

"Tch.. bad music. Not an A, go an F and then, G!" a stealthy voice came into the studio where Fab 5 rehearsed as a prep for an unknown visitor. Their music paused and Fab 5 looked up towards the door. A familiar sharp-jaw, slick jet black hair, casually dressed man stood in front of them. The familiarity as striking and sickening as it was for this visitor himself.

Harshad walked in, hands in his pocket and a stealthy gaze that pinned each one of them, especially threatening Manik. He shifted on his chair, not uncomfortable but slyly slightly shocked at this sudden return of the missing "hero of his life." Mukti pierced at Harshad trying her best to stay tight-lipped and shut. Aliya was merrily shocked seeing his return after a long time of no-contacts. She wanted to hug him but at the same time was tired to deal with another taxing event that he surely brought along. After all, when did he meet her otherwise but for a trivial trial. Dhruv and Cabir got their guards on while intently analyzing Harshad and the sluggish snicker that danced on his face. Something told both of them that "visitor" and him were no different and the tables were yet to turn even though on a personal basis they were already drenched and rotten.

Stardust came along hearing the voice and an abrupt stop to Fab 5's rehearsal. They walked in with a welcoming smile.

"I see you met. Great, so guys this is the last member we told you was long back was missing and well, he is also the one you awaited today." Adhira announced with excitement that seemed to be only in terms with her and no one else as silence fell over in the room. Never-ending deadly glares had been exchanged since the time of his arrival and so, Harshad took the onus on himself to bring words into work. With an unknown unfamiliarity in his voice, neither as a snicker or as an acknowledgment, he greeted them to see the water-level in which he stood.

"Aha! Fab 5, hello! How do you do old fellows?"

"Bhai?" Aliya spoke out of the blue. Fab 5's heads shot towards her as if she had committed a sin. She lowered her head; she wasn't planning to greet back and so, shut her half-open mouth confused on how and whether to greet her own brother she hadn't met in months.

"Mr. Saxsena, Aliya!" Harshad claimed and deepened his hands into his jacket and leaned on the table in all royalty. This show was his and no one could steal it. It was announced even though it wasn't said and Manik got that well. Any doubts of this that were misted and wiped off with Harshad's next sentence,

"The composer for this song for y'll!" he shuffled and took a seat besides Stardust's musical set. "So, where do you want to all start from?" he said with a double-meaning hanging by the edge.

"Don't drag it, Harshad!" Manik growled in a low tone.

"Come on, buddy! The note! How about your favorite one?" he sing-sung his words, "F major? Or F minor now?" He chuckled and pulled himself towards the piano, playing the notes one after another in all his might, quelling Manik's ruffling rage to silence.

This game this time wasn't of the words or of past deeds. This time, it was all about him and him, as she said. This time the roots branched back to him and where he had left things. Manik grabbed his guitar- the same old, chestnut brown curved instrument that he still carried since those old days. His fingers brushed past the strings, pressing against the metallic of the frets.