57.
The small party was over. The house had fallen into silence, save for the faint hum of the AC and the soft chirping outside. Everyone had retreated to their rooms.
Yug had tucked his mother in first, adjusting her blanket with extra care, watching her fragile chest rise and fall until he was sure she was asleep. Only then did he leave, his own exhaustion pressing heavy on him.
As soon as he entered his room, he collapsed face-first onto the bed, his body groaning in protest. What a day. Not physically draining — no, it was worse. Mentally tiring. His emotions had been stretched, pulled, and twisted in every direction.
But if he were to rate the day? He wouldn't call it nasty. In fact, he'd give it an 11/10. Because of what Aarav had done for him.
That didn't mean anything about his feelings.This was what people did when they cared. And Aarav cared. That was enough.
Then there was Shaurya. Yug let out a small huff of disbelief, rolling onto his back. Who would've thought? Shaurya Shekhawat — a man with the reputation of being composed, borderline cold — had sat with him today. Spoken to him. Comforted him.
Weirdly enough, it hadn't felt forced. Or fake. Maybe, just maybe, Yug had made another friend tonight.
And the strangest part? That friend was Shaurya.
The thought made him chuckle softly.
"They're two souls with the same heart", Yug muttered.
He stretched his arms over his head, bones cracking, before lazily pulling out his phone.
Instagram loaded, the familiar glow lighting up his tired face.
Came out thousands of notifs of his fans and friends wishing him for his birthday but he ignored them.
He scrolled absentmindedly — until something stopped him cold.
His brows shot up. He blinked twice. Wait, what the hell?
Never in a million years had Yug thought he'd see that name in his "suggested for you." His thumb hovered over the small circle, curiosity prickling. Ravi's profile picture was dark, shadowed, but unmistakably him.
Against his better judgment, his thumb tapped. Profile opened. Still locked. Just the faint outline of a man who didn't belong on social media, not like this. Yug frowned, debating whether to move on.
And then it happened. His finger slipped, pressing the Follow button.
"Shit." Yug bolted upright. "Shit, shit, shit."
The phone nearly tumbled out of his hands as his pulse spiked.
He couldn't undo it. Notification already sent. Ravi would've seen it. His manager would see it too. And that was a whole different storm waiting to hit. The fans were too obsessive. Every follow, every unfollow, got screenshotted and posted within minutes.
He could already imagine it: trending hashtags, articles dissecting why Yug Khurrana had followed this unknown man.
"Bloody hell..." he muttered, running both hands over his face. He cursed again, sinking back into the pillows.
Why him? Why now?
But what Yug didn't expect—what made his jaw drop—was Ravi immediately accepting the request. And then... following him back.
"What the hell?" Yug almost shouted at his phone, eyes widening.
His heart thumped as though he'd just committed some crime.
"I swear to God, if he texts me now—"
Ravi: Hey.
Yug froze. He gulped. His thumb hovered, debating whether to reply or pretend he'd fallen off the planet. Against his better judgment, he tapped open the chat.
The little dots popped up immediately. Typing...
Yug's stomach twisted.
Yug's mouth dropped open. "Excuse me?" he muttered at the screen. His thumbs flew.
Yug groaned into his pillow. Right, why did I? He didn't. His clumsy fingers did. But explaining that would sound worse.
There was a pause. Then:
The whiplash made Yug blink.
Yug sat bolt upright.
Yug snorted.
Yug shook his head.
Yug narrowed his eyes at the smugness radiating through the screen.
Yug then exited the chat and went to Ravi's profile. Four posts.
The first: a picture of a pebble.
The second: Ravi and Shaurya, probably in their early twenties. Shaurya was grinning, holding up a fish, while Ravi wore a disgusted scowl. Yug zoomed in—Shaurya's smile was bright, effortless, while Ravi looked like someone forced him into it.
He swiped again. This time, Ravi, Shaurya, and Veer.
Veer's arms draped around their shoulders, his laughter caught mid-burst, while the other two lifted him off the ground.
Ravi looked unusually relaxed in that photo, something Yug hadn't quite seen in him yet.
Ravi was looking at Veer. Clean-shaven too, both of them.
And it's weird how both of them who glare at him equally now could look so younger. Yug caught himself smiling.
The third: a woman and a girl—Ravi's mother and sister, Yug guessed.
The fourth was recent. Ravi holding tiny hands in his. Yug leaned in closer. He knew those hands instantly. Aarya's.
For some reason, that one made him smile the most.
Just then, his screen lit up.
Yug rolled his eyes, tossed the phone aside, and dragged himself out of bed for water. He padded into the kitchen, only to freeze.
Shaurya stood there, sleeves rolled up, flour dusting his hands, working a lump of dough. He hadn't even noticed Yug.
"What are you doing?" Yug asked, genuinely confused.
"Making pizza," Shaurya replied without looking up.
"At this hour?" Yug stepped closer. The dough actually looked... good.
"I was hungry."
"You know you can always order, right?"
"Not today. City's on strike, deliveries are shut." He tossed some onions into a sizzling pan.
Yug raised a brow. "Didn't know you could cook."
Shaurya only shrugged.
Yug muttered under his breath, "I actually don't know much about you at all."
Shaurya's silence lingered, his focus fixed on the pan. Yug shook his head, then smirked.
"Anyway, can you toss that dough up in the air? Like those chefs do?"
Shaurya's lips quirked. "Never tried. But sure."
Yug straightened like an eager kid.
Shaurya dusted the counter, pressed the dough into a rough circle, and lifted it with surprising skill. "Here we go," he said, tossing it upward. The dough twirled, landed neatly back in his hands.
Yug chuckled. "Do it again. I'll record it."
Shaurya gave him a look. "Seriously?"
"Yeah. Memories." Yug grinned, holding up his phone.
Shaurya smirked and tossed it again. But before the dough could land, something shifted in the air. A presence.
Both turned. Shaurya froze.
Aarav stood there. Shirtless. Just shorts clinging low to his hips, his torso carved with muscle, tattoos inked into his skin—one curling around his waistline, disappearing lower.
The dough slapped onto the counter, exploding a puff of flour straight into Yug's face.
"Why always me?" Yug sputtered, coughing white dust, wiping at his eyes.
Shaurya, however, didn't move. Couldn't. His gaze locked on Aarav, chest tightening.
He couldn't decide if the sight angered him, intoxicated and made him high—or something far more dangerous, that is, yes, made him horny.
Six years hadn't dulled Aarav's beauty. They'd sharpened it.
He wasn't just handsome anymore. He was devastating.
Aarav was too painfully beautiful for Shaurya's eyes.
Aarav's eyes flicked to Yug first, his expression worried. He crossed the kitchen and brushed flour from Yug's cheek with gentle fingers.
"You alright?" Aarav asked softly.
"I'm fine," Yug muttered, rubbing his eyes. Both of them turned toward Shaurya, who was still staring at Aarav. A chill ran down Aarav's spine, but he shook it off and rolled his eyes.
"I think he's lost his brain," Yug whispered to Aarav.
"He never had one," Aarav shot back under his breath. His gaze drifted to the chaos on the kitchen counter.
"What were you two even doing?" he asked.
"He was making pizza," Yug said, wiping his face with his sleeve.
"Seriously, Shaurya? The doctor already told you to stay away from junk. Can't you show a little patience? And how are you always hungry?" Aarav scolded, exasperated.
"I'm not letting you eat this stuff. Go to sleep now," Aarav continued firmly. Shaurya only nodded, pressing a hand lightly to his chest. Aarav grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, muttering, "Tharki buddha," under his breath.
As he twisted the cap, it slipped and clattered to the floor.
Aarav bent down to pick it up, and Shaurya's breathe burned.
He couldn't look anywhere else but at Aarav's ass.
How can anyone blame him? It's not a sin anyhow because Aarav was already his.
Shaurya cursed under his breathe. When Aarav straightened, his eyes flicked to Shaurya—and his face flushed crimson.
When he looked at Shaurya's pants, he noticed how Shaurya's dick was pointing against his pant's fabric.
"What the—" Aarav started, then cut himself off. Without another word, he grabbed Shaurya's arm and tugged him toward his room, making sure Yug couldn't catch on.
Left behind, Yug sighed and stared at the abandoned pizza dough.
"I guess Shaurya was hungry," he muttered.
As soon as they entered the room, Aarav shoved Shaurya into the bathroom and locked the door from the outside.
"What are you doing, Aarav?" Shaurya's voice came, calm but edged with uneven breaths.
"What am I doing? What's wrong with you?" Aarav shot back.
"There isn't anything wrong. Open the door."
"Nothing wrong? Are you insane? Yug was literally standing there!" Aarav's voice rose in frustration. He folded his arms tightly across his chest, trying to mask the heat in his cheeks. "Take care of... that first, and then I'll let you out."
Silence.
Aarav leaned his forehead against the wall, still burning red.
What the hell is going on with him? He couldn't remember the last time he'd been sexually active.
And the idea of watching porn made him uncomfortable.
Not that it stopped his mind from wandering sometimes.
Aarav remembered him touching himself...
imagining.... nevermind.... let's not not go there.
He banged his head lightly against the wall. Too hard.
"Ouch," he muttered, rubbing at the sore spot.
Minutes crawled by before Shaurya's voice finally broke the silence.
"Aarav... I'm done."
Aarav drew in a sharp breath, unlocked the door, and his eyes flicked—almost against his will—down to Shaurya's clothes. Relief washed over him when everything seemed... normal.
But when he met Shaurya's face, his relief faltered. Shaurya's expression was darker, unreadable. Aarav instinctively took a step back, his throat dry.