chapter three
“i’m scared obie.” mayday whispers as she’s being tucked into the duvet of her bed. “i don’t like storms.”
mayday curls her hands into fists and rubs any forming tears away from her eyes.
“i don’t like storms eithe’. hobie says, stroking a hand through her hair.
pavitr sits back against the wall, cross-legged on the floor, just beside the frame of mayday’s bed.
“what d’you not like about storms?”
“they’re loud.”
“yeah, that’s true. they are too loud”
“and they sound like um… dragons. the big bad ones.”
“like the ones the prince rescued the princess from?” pavitr offers.
mayday hums in reply.
“well, i’m beside you. right here.” pavitr assures, squeezing her arms, patting the space beside him on the floor.
“yea, prince pavie’s gonna argy bargy the dragon away? alright?”
hobie has to nudge pavitr to say his part in consoling mayday because right now all pavitr can think about is how the nickname bounced off hobie’s tongue and how much better it would sound whispered into the crook of his neck, with little butterfly kisses pressed onto his skin after every syllable, granted that there are only two.
“of course, me and princess hobie will always be there with you, even if you can't see us. maa kasam. i promise.” he looks to hobie who gives him a small smile through his long lashes.
hobie scoots his hand on the cool wooden floor, closer to pavitr’s. he intertwines their fingers.
pavitr aches to bring his other hand to hobie’s copper cheeks and see if they’ll flush as much as they did that day. they bathed in the beams of the sun for as long as they could that day, believing their eyes would forever be shut by the cold clammy hands of those who take away the young from another day of warmth. but to die beside hobie brown is such a poetic way to die.
mayday falls asleep in around ten minutes to hobie faintly dragging his nails across her scalp and pavitr absent-mindedly humming the jack white riffs hobie played on repeat whenever he messed up anything when practising his guitar.
it feels… what’s the word? normal again. pavitr forgets how he almost was about to be laid in his grave, how he tasted the cold of hobie’s lip piercings and the warmth of his cheeks, how hobie’s eyes mimicked the finest opals when their faces were less than a mere inch away, and how hobie ran away the minute they got back up.
pavitr hums until he falls asleep on hobie’s shoulder.
when pavitr wakes up, he’s on the couch. a pillow beneath his head and a thick fluffy blanket draped on top of him. hobie sits beside him, pavitr’s legs lying on his lap, watching a movie peter and mj bought on the cable after pavitr had crashed with gwen here once and had a movie marathon. eight straight hours of pavitr’s rom-coms and bollywood classics and gwen’s morbid dramas.
pavitr recognises what hobie’s watching. it’s a classic, ‘kuch kuch hota hai’. pavitr loved the movie as a kid, mainly because of his gigantic crush on sha rukh khan. hobie’s halfway into the first song and pavitr can hear him say something like “when’s this gonna end?”.
“i think you have two more verses left.”
pavitr sits up and stretches his arms out, hearing the satisfying crack of his joints.
“didn’t think this would exactly be your style.”
“oh? because i’m a twink?”
hobie places his bowl of cornflakes on the end table.
“i think it’s more of a,” pavitr gestures to hobie’s studded vest, long skirt, and an insane amount of band patches sewed onto the pockets of the skirt. “y’know what i mean.”
“what? do you not like the fit? i dressed up all pretty just for you.’ he stretches the edges of his t-shirt and pouts.
pavitr hiccups.
“oh really?” he smiles.
“really.”
hobie pulls pavitr close to his side, their shoulders touching. hobie smiles at him, his purple lipstick is stained onto his teeth. it’s adorable. pavitr thinks he’s dying.
silence. not awkward. just silence. the musical sequence is still playing, the sounds of the city buzzing through the air and mayday’s snoring hums in the background.
“can i ask you something?” pavitr says.
“always, love.”
“why’d you run away?”
“oh.”
yeah. oh.
“i didn't mean to. i swear. i just thought you’d wanted it that way.” hobie says, fidgeting with the sleeves of his shirt.
“bewakoof! that is the most stupid thing i’v ever heard.” pavitr says,
“yeah?
“definitely.”
more silence.
“so..” pavitr trails, looking towards the telly, watching the elaborate choreography. the song’s still not over.
“so?” hobie replies.
“you wanna kiss?”
“yes please.’ hobie says, way too quickly.
pavitr brings a hand up to hobie’s cheeks. hobie tangles his purple-painted fingernails into pav’s hair. pavitr presses a kiss onto the corner of hobie’s lips, then another one closer, then another one again until pavitr can taste the sugar of the cereal hobie ate on his lips. pavitr lets it linger until he pulls his face away.
“no.” hobie breathes out. “don’t.”
hobie’s hands pull pavitr’s face to his, closing the gap.
hobie fumbles with the edge of pavitr’s hoodie.
“can i, love?”
“please.”
Hoodie discarded on the floor, hobie’s lips move to pavitr’s cheeks, then his neck, lipstick staining his sienna skin.
“god, i’ve wanted this for so, so-” hobie whines.
“shut up, please.” pavitr says, desperate for more.
hobie laughs and brings pavitr close. their lips move against each other, the movie long forgotten. pavitr pushes hobie onto the sofa, his head resting on the edge. pavitr places his lips on hobie’s jawline, kissing every inch of it.
hobie flips him over and now he's on top of pavitr, tracing the outline of his lips, with the tips of his fingers.
“pretty.” he muses, grinning when he sees the flush of pavitr’s cheeks. “so, so, so pretty.”
“you’re pretty too.”
he presses kisses onto his pavitr’s neck, sucking on his soft skin, satisfied when pavitr lets out little soft moans. that’s definitely going to leave a mark.
pavitr is the happiest he’s ever felt. he loves this feeling, he loves hobie, he loves everything in his life right now. he has has no regrets until the next few words come out of his mouth, involuntarily. just like breathing. it just makes sense to fill your lungs with air and then exhale. loving hobie brown is like breathing. and pavitr prabhakar can’t stop.
“i love you jaan.”
there it is. the regret.
but then there’s a kiss, and another, and then another again.
“pavie?”
pavitr will never tire of hearing hobie call him that. ever.
‘mhm?”
“love you too.”
“-hey! we’re back. hope mayday wasn’t too much trouble. oh, you’re up to something, i can see that. um, we can just leave. um, bye? alright, alright i’m leaving.”
BONUS:
“sorry hobie. pav got in touch last minute and said he‘d babysit. you mustn't've got my message.” mj says, biting the insides of her cheeks, trying not to smile and blow her cover.
how could hobie ever get her message if she had never even sent one?
she looks at her husband who gives her a knowing smile.
who knows how long the romantic tension would remain unresolved if she hadn’t stepped in. thank god they don’t have to find out. mj trusts her ways.