Chapter 10

-doe-eyes-

@-doe-eyes-

Thank you all so much for your constant love and support- I've been reading your comments and messages to motivate myself this past week. It's been so stressful and HARD I wonder how I even survived...looks like I underestimated university-life O.O

One more week of exams to go and I can't wait for it to be over! But because it's Friday and I needed a break, I wrote this- haven't read through, and it falls into the random and pointless categories again, and probably the crappy category too :s

I actually had a specific movie in mind when writing this, and it's a Hollywood film, but I won't reveal the name because that'd be a Spoiler :p

I am jabbering too much aren't I? Gaahhh but I missed you all!!

ArHi Drabble |Anytime|

Arnav already felt ridiculous, the mortification of the moment writhing and wriggling uncomfortably in his stomach as he clutched the brown paper bag, already stained and now sticky in his grasp. It was taking all of his willpower to stare steadily at the nondescript door, and keep his feet nailed to the worn "Welcome" mat outside it instead of giving into the visceral urge to drop the package and run.

But the awkwardness did not fully hit him until he heard the shuffling of feet on the other side, and then it was too late to do anything, because in the span of milliseconds he had heard the safety latch being pulled back, and before he could release his painfully held breath, the door was open and she was staring straight at him.

"Arnav?" her tone was inquiring, quizzical, her head tipped a little to the side as it always would when she was confused or curious. His throat suddenly too parched, his brain suddenly in hopeless disarray, Arnav's free hand rose to rub away the uncomfortable prickling at the back of his neck.

He decided there was no way out but forward.

"Here," he barked gruffly, thrusting the package in front of her face and feeling his ears heat until they were burning. She took him from it and the need to cut and run built in his limbs until his bones almost fractured.

But if his dignity had already taken a beating as he had followed Khushi's inane, hopelessly idealistic mottos of "Follow your heart" and "Live in the moment"- he'd be damned if he exacerbated this any more than he had already.

And so he attempted to distract himself by looking at her.

It was not as though he had never seen her in her pyjamas before, being her next door neighbour and childhood friend and all, but he had recently- or perhaps not so recently- come to realise that there was something ridiculously alluring about her tattered, oversized T-shirts that would often expose a little too much of her collarbone, the usually-patterned trousers often tucked beneath her bare heels because she hadn't bothered to roll them up. And then there was her hair, which she attempted to tie up to no avail- half of it would be in a sorry excuse of a bun, the other tumbling round her face in artful disorder.

But today it was not her appearance but her expressions that he was interested in.

It was the fact that her cheeks were slightly rosier than they usually were, the corners of her lips slightly turned down.

It was the fact that, even through the black-framed spectacles she had perched over her nose, he could see the hint of red in her eyes, and the slight damp patches she had not been able to wipe away before opening the door.

Which brought him back to the reason for his being here in the first place.

She had peeled the package open already, but he was sure he could tell what was inside by the unmistakeable, honey-sweet scent that clung like second skin to the parcel. Her sudden frantic movements to get the thing open was a testimony to the fact, as were the gleam in her eyes and the "o" of her mouth.

"I can't believe you actually had a mental breakdown over a movie," he quipped quickly, in a rather poor attempt to save face, deflect some of the embarrassment assaulting him toward her instead, "I mean, you've read the book a thousand times. You knew he was going to die near the end. And yet you still called me up and bawled your eyes o-"

Unfortunately (perhaps in hindsight, fortunately), he never got to finish that sentence.

As at that moment a fully-grown Khushi had come barrelling into him.

The surprise more than the impact unbalanced him; he lost his footing, stumbling a step or two back, his nose suddenly full of the scent of jasmine and apple, and then two slender arms had locked in a surprisingly strong grip around him and a highly excitable (and muffled) voice was twittering happily near his ear.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, sooo much! I can't believe you got me my favourite jalebis, that too at this time of the night! I didn't even realise they were open this late! And all because I- I don't even- I love you!"

He felt her land a sound peck to his jaw, her grip around his neck growing tighter, and somehow all the humiliation that had hounded him and mocked him for the love-struck sap she had turned him into fell mute and dumb. His arms rose and wrapped them round her of their own accord, just as they had wanted to when he had called her earlier and heard her dismal tone and subtle sniffling, and his concern and nerves had gone on red alert.

Because frankly speaking, he hated it when she cried.

Whether it was because they had had to rush her father to the hospital because of wrongly-administered medicine, or because she'd cut herself while chopping vegetables, or because of a character-death in a movie she had known was going to happen all along.

"Anytime," he managed to force out of his still-dry (though now for different reasons) throat.

He meant it.

And now I'm going to go to bed and make up for all the sleepless nights :P

Thank you for reading! Please leave your thoughts :)