Where Parallels Meet

Chapter 4

Violets ain't red, but roses might be blue;

I am a liar, and well, so are you.

The evergreen sun overcame the horizon, reflecting its fire on the cool restless waters, announcing a fresh start through the whistling of the wind.

"I'm sorry; I've wanted this for so long now." His voice hardly above a whisper, I was close enough to hear anyway, he said as he hugged me close.

"As if I haven't?" I muttered too, drawing my arms even tighter around him.

Wrapped in his heady embrace, I felt strong enough to take bullets to my chest. "I feel complete again." I felt his breath on my ear. I couldn't even begin telling him what all I felt; any attempt was bound to be futile.

It all felt so safe, I didn't want him to let go anytime sooner. I felt myself tear up, and he was the sole culprit, it was the sheer force of his warmth that had melted the frozenness making it seep right out my eyes.

His heartbeat loud and lucid, hurried and tumultuous thrummed right next to mine: almost close enough for me to confuse it with my own.

And right then, I knew I had to let go, even if I didn't want to. I was, into self harm that way.

I smiled gratefully at him. And he returned the favor. The red sun bled through the darkness and set the sea on fire, and the night passed, as if telling me from behind the light that my secrets were all safe with her.

His phone rang above our laughter while we were walking back, munching on a sinfully good breakfast of finger snacks and coffee. "Oh crap, don't speak okay?" I nodded innocently while he handed his coffee to me and moaned a 'Vannakam' into the phone, in what he pretended to be his sleepy voice.

"Hassan, Hassan anna...." He rushed through sharp, incomprehensible Hindi, thrusting word after word into the phone. I was certain after I had heard this, that the language Hindi could be Greek to me if only he spoke it in that very accent.

From what I caught, he had told his mom that he was at Hassan Anna's place, who happened to be one of his cousins. From how he sighed after hanging up, I knew his mum had believed him too.

Barely a minute later, his phone chimed again. This time he spoke in blunt Tamil. I inched closer and quietly whispered his name in a husky voice, with a devilish expression, and he shook his head violently, running away from me, balancing the food in one hand and cracking up at the same time, eventually ending up on his butt with the food scattered at his feet. Finger licking good!

He said it was Hassan Anna, and he wanted to know what story he had fed his mom, so he could stick to that when she called him again. He said he was with a friend, and that he apparently didn't believe him even when he wasn't really lying.

Later, we made it to the hotel where he dropped me while the roads were still mostly light, and he rode off to home.

Author's Note

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Thank you! : )