"Crying is how your heart speaks, when your lips can't explain the pain they feel."
-Anonymous
(Btw, yes tears do be hot. So cry your heart out, and if someone doesn't appreciate the tears. They're not worth your time :)))
••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Gauhar's POV
I felt numb as I stood in front of the door behind which my father was resting. The faint periodic beep of the machines reassured me in a weird way that father was indeed alright. I felt my hand tremble as I reached forward to open the door, the cold metal of the doorknob a stark contrast to my sweaty palms.
I didn't want to be alone when I went in there, I didn't know if I had the strength to watch father in that state. But I couldn't ask Dev for any more favors, I had to overcome my fears and face what was in front of me on my own.
Alone.
My anxiety seemed to have sucked all the air out of the room, making it difficult to breathe.
I mustered all the strength within me and shut my eyes tightly as I turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.
As the doors opened my father's unconscious figure came into my view, it took all the strength within me to hold my emotions together, the dam of my tears threatened to break as I saw his strong form, lying insentient before me. I thought that I had prepared myself for what I was about to see, but I was clearly very wrong. I had misjudged my own strength.
My father, my hero was lying in front of me, helpless. I felt a hot tear slide down my cheek, giving away the pain I felt-- my heart wept blood, and there was no way I could curb the pain that threatened to consume me. I quickly wiped it away, hating how it betrayed my weakness.
I stood watching silently as he breathed in through the oxygen mask on his face, the measured rise and fall of his chest reassuring me that everything would be alright again.
That I could still hope.
I knew that for the rest of the world I was a capable adult, who managed her affairs with precision and fought for the things that she thought were right. What they did not know was that I was still a child, and only my father could see that weak and vulnerable side of me.
Only he could make me feel better by running a hand through my hair and bestowing me with a smile that fixed all the problems in my life. He gave me hope and strength that no matter how many times you fall, and no matter how many mistakes you might have committed, there was still hope for you.
You could still redeem yourself for everything wrong that you did by ding what's right for others.
As I pulled my gaze away from the comatose form of my father and let my eyes wander around the room. The bright lights of the city twinkled at us, causing an eerie glow through the curtains. The only source of light in the dark room were the blinking lights of the machines attached to father and the cool light of the room that cast a faint glow inside the room.
It was a welcome relief from the blaring artificial lights of the hospital waiting rooms, this cool light soothed me.
I sucked in a deep breath, barely keeping in the gasp of surprise that threatened to escape me as I noticed a hunched figure seated on the couch, barely illuminated by the faint lights from the windows.
His entire figure was thrown into stark contrast as he sat with his back against the window. He looked deep in thought, his hair falling onto his face and hiding it. He had his head held in both his hands, the posture indicated how distressed he was.
The darkness of the room made it difficult to discern any characteristics from him that would help me in identification of who it was. He suddenly looked up, his mouth opening slightly as he noticed me standing by the door.
As soon his deep brown eyes met with mine, I felt a rush of warmth engulf me. The sight of those familiar chocolate brown irises made me realise how much craved for his company.
I could discern the tiredness on his face in faint glow of the blinking lights of the machines, his hair was disheveled and his eyes looked red, as if he had cried. His clothes were unkempt, his usually carefully put together appearance now in disarray. I could tell by the way his pink jumper didn't match with his blue jeans that he had put on his clothes in a hurry.
He ran a hand through his hair, the darkness around his eyes reducing as his gaze met with mine. He quickly wiped his cheeks as he forced a smile on his face. I knew very well that he was faking it so that I wouldn't notice the tear stains on his cheeks.
His eyes lacked their shine, and he looked drained….almost defeated. But they still held their warmth, and no matter how much he teased me. In times like these I knew that no matter what happened, I would have him as my support.
"How long are you going to stand at the door like an idiot?" He asked, and I noticed that his voice was raspy. He got up and pulled up the blanket covering father pretending as if he were adjusting as he discreetly cleared his throat in the process.
He could act tough all he wanted, but I knew how soft he was from the inside.(that's why he never managed to kill me in my sleep, though he had many chances.)
"By all means continue standing there like a dumbass, if you wanted to act like a guard it would have been better if you would have stayed outside, guarding the door."
He continued to mess with the stuff on father's side table, which was still relatively empty as there had been no visitors yet "I'd much rather not see your stupid face." He informed me.
I felt a reluctant smile form on my face at his words. "I'm happy you haven't lost your touch, I was afraid you'd become 'good'" I gave an exaggerated shudder at the word, causing him to smile "Just imagining it creeps the hell out of me, that thing would seriously mess with the order of the universe and put everything in disarray. Now that'd be hella scary."
He chuckled at my words, shaking his head at my amazing sense of humour. He walked back to the sofa and sat down, moving the curtains slightly so that more light flooded in. He sighed deeply as he looked at the tiny pinpricks of light that were present down on the street. People were moving about their lives, busy and focussed only on their destination.
Oftentimes we get so engrossed in pursuing the destination that we fail to appreciate the journey that took us there. We often tend to neglect the people that helped us along the way, the ones that held us together when we were about to break….only when we lose them do we realise just how important they were.
I pushed forward, forcing my legs to move from their frozen state. I was afraid to approach my father, I was scared to see him so weak so….helpless.
I swallowed thickly as I walked closer to him, the sounds of the machines getting louder and louder. I took his hand in mine, breaking inside as I felt how cold it was.
The cold light that filtered through the windows illuminated his face, throwing it into deeper contrast. I felt my hand shake as I gently touched his cheek, a lone tear falling onto his face as I failed to hold in my emotions.
I wiped the tear with my thumb, marvelling at how delicate he felt under my touch. I was amazed at how great he was at acting strong, at showing us that nothing would budge him. I still couldn't believe that he wasn't made from strong granite and stone…..that he wasn't invincible.
I felt an arm wrap around my shoulder, Muqeet wiped the tears that fell from my eyes. His own eyes glistening with fresh unshed tears.
"Never in my life did I think I would be thankful to see your stupid face, but I am" I said as I wrapped my arms around him. Resting my head onto his chest, I let my tears flow freely.
He tightened his hold on me, I could feel his shoulders shake as he cried. I don't know how long we stood there, trying to give eachother strength when finally the reality of everything around us threatened to break us.
We only had eachother for support when all the notions we held all our lives, crashed around us like waves in a storm.
We were both little kids that were shown the brutal reality of life, our protection..our cover. It was all temporary, nothing would last. It was foolish of us to ever think that this brief period of respite would.
I looked up at his face which looked tired, his copper brown hair which was just like mine, was messy from running his hands frequently through them. He looked absolutely drained, but I had never been more happy to be with him.
"You are going to buy me a new jumper." he said as he pulled away, wiping his eyes "This one has all your dirty snot on it. I'm going to burn it when I get home."
I grinned at him "Don't burn the jumper you dumbo, you have no idea. It's fashion right now, girls will see that you're a guy that's not afraid of her tears. You'll have them swarming around you because of me."
He rolled his eyes, bonking me on the head with his hand he said "Don't try to get smart with me, keep this crying thing a secret will ya? I don't want anyone to know about it."
"Who exactly do you mean by 'anyone'?" I asked, following him towards the sofa.
"That's none of your business, just don't tell any pretty girls about it." He sat down on the sofa, stretching his long legs in front of himself.
"By pretty girls do you mean…*cough* Pinky *cough*?" I wriggled my eyebrows, nudging him with my shoulder.
"I'm happy to see that your mental faculties are as right as ever." He directed his terrifying glare at me, which worked on everyone- except me "I was afraid that I'd have to comfort you, I even came prepared with tissues." he took out a wad of tissues and threw it on my face.
"Use these tissues to wipe that shiet eating grin off your face." He pointed his face towards the tissues that were now safely resting inside my pocket.
"If I would have known that, I would have to deal with this" he stared pointedly at me "I wouldn't have been worrying myself sick, I can't ever un-remember seeing your crying face, with your eyes puffed up and your nose running." he gave an exaggerated shudder, closing his eyes as if he were trying to forget the image- for extra effect.