TICKING TIME

We all wanted to be the hero of our own story.
And the moment we realise we're not, insecurity begins.
We pull others down just to feel visible.
We crack jokes that make our friends laugh,
even when they quietly wound someone who is just like us.
We don't know how to handle the insecurity,
or the anger that grows alongside it.
So many things feel imperfect,

Books spread across the bed. A half-open notebook. Deva sits with a pen but isn't writing.
DEVI leans against the doorframe, smirking.
DHARUN sits on the edge of the bed.

DEVI
It's not like you're going to propose. And definitely she won't. She grows horns the moment she sees you.
DEVA
I know what to do. Why don't you mind your business?
DHARUN
Do you actually like her? You fight with her all the time.
DEVA
I don't.
DEVI
He sure does. He's just scared to make a move.
DEVA
Go away. I have to study.
DHARUN
Out of all the excuses, you chose that? Seriously, bro?
DEVI
Hey, just propose.
If she says no - it's too early to hurt badly.
If she says yes - it's too early to realise she should have not said so.
Either way, this will go down.
DHARUN
That's for sure.
DEVA
Get out. Both of you.
He stands, grabs the door, and pushes them out.
DOOR SLAMS.
Silence.
Deva leans against the door, closes his eyes, and exhales.
He walks back to the bed, sits.
Looks at the open notebook.
Blank page.
DEVA (murmurs)
Do I love her?
A beat.
Quick flashes in his mind:
- Her arguing with him
- Rolling her eyes.
- Smiling when she thinks he isn't looking.
- Ignoring him on purpose.
Deva shakes his head.
DEVA
This is stupid.
He opens his book, tries to read.
Same line again. And again.
He sighs, drops the book beside him.
DEVA
Why does she have to be so annoying?
A small, unwilling smile forms.
He immediately wipes it away.
DEVA
No. Focus.
He picks up the pen.
After two seconds, he glances at his phone.
Locks it.
Throws it on the bed.
DEVA
Exam first. Everything else later.
He finally starts writing.