Matters Of The Heart

𝟏. 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐄𝐫𝐚.

𝘡𝘢𝘺𝘺𝘢𝘯 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘬.

As I lay in bed, the incessant beeping pierced my eardrums like a thousand tiny knives. I groggily reached over to silence the alarm, but my hand hesitated, hovering above the snooze button. The beeping grew louder, more insistent, and I felt my irritation simmering just below the surface. With a growl, I slapped the alarm clock into submission, the sudden silence a welcome respite.

But my relief was short-lived. My eyelids dropped, and I felt myself being pulled under the waves of sleep once more. The warmth of my bed enveloped me like a cocoon, and I drifted off, the beeping a distant memory.

As I lay ensconced in my bed, a cocoon of slumber threatening to consume me whole, the persistent knocking on my door finally pierced the haze. Aameen's voice, laced with concern and a hint of urgency, wafted through the air,
❝ zay wake up! Are you okay in
there? ❞

My response was a languid drawl, born of a deep-seated reluctance to surrender to the demands of the day.  ❝ Come in, bro... The door's open. ❞ The words dripped with a mixture of irritation and lethargy, a testament to my desire to remain ensconced in the warmth of my bed.

Aameen's footsteps echoed through the room, hesitant at first, as if unsure of the reception he would receive.
❝ Dude, what's going on? You've been sleeping for hours. I was starting to get worried. ❞ His voice was tinged with a blend of amusement and concern, a familiar cadence that stirred a faint sense of recognition within me.

I cracked open an eye, squinting against the harsh light that spilled through the window.  ❝ Just... just leave me alone, Aameen. I'm not exactly... functioning... right now. ❞ My words slurred, a jumbled mess of syllables that barely conveys the depths of my exhaustion.

Aameen chuckled, a low rumble that vibrates through the air.
❝ Functioning? You're not even coherent, bro. What's going on? Did you pull an all-nighter or something? ❞ His tone was laced with teasing, but beneath it, I sensed a genuine concern for my well-being.

As the seconds ticked by, Aameen's patience wore thin, and his voice escalated into a frustrated yell.
❝ Zayyan, get the hell up, yaar! We need to go, it's getting late! Zay, if you don't get up now, I'll call momma and tell her you're being a lazy bum! ❞

That was it, the final straw. My anger boiled over, and I sat up with a jolt, my eyes blazing with fury. I glared at Aameen, my voice low and menacing.  ❝ Shut. Up. Now. ❞ Each word was laced with venom, a warning that I was on the verge of snapping.  ❝ If you mention momma one more time, I swear to God, I'll break your face. Just... stop. ❞

The air was thick with tension as I struggled to contain my rage. Aameen took a step back, his eyes widening in surprise, but he wisely chose to hold his tongue, sensing the precarious edge I was teetering on. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by my heavy breathing, as I fought to rein in my temper.

I exploded in a fit of rage, my voice thundering through the room. ❝ What the hell, Aameen Hussain Malik?! Can't you see I'm trying to sleep? You son of...! ❞ I bit back the rest of the insult, my anger boiling over.

Aameen stood his ground, his eyes locked on mine as he took a deep breath before responding.  ❝ Zay, we need to go. It's getting late. ❞ He glanced at his watch, his expression unyielding.

The use of my nickname, "Zay", a term of endearment he'd coined, only served to infuriate me further. How dare he be so familiar, so calm, when I was seething with rage? I felt my face twist in a snarl, my fists clenched at my sides, as I struggled to contain the tempest brewing within me.