I believe in everybody's lives there has to be this single most important event. A life-turning, traumatic experience that changes the course of your life the moment it happens. Dhruv thought that his 'life-turning' event that would change his perception of life was this. That it was me and my demise that would change him forever but it was something we had never expected.
One day, a couple of CDs that were gift-wrapped and a letter he didn't bother reading were dropped off at his doorstep. Dhruv was popular, a star nonetheless and gifts like these weren't that uncommon but receiving CDs in the technological age was a bit uncommon.
Did people even buy these anymore?
He scowled when the pink wrapping was finally pulled off to reveal the title of the CDs. It was unnamed but when he plugged the player in his television and managed to play the first title, his confusion only grew further. These were his own songs that somebody had mailed to his own address with a gift packaging. What was this? A weird way of confessing your love?
Admiration? Mocking? Was this some tracking device but who would track him?
Dhruv was just about to push the button and pull the drive out when the song was turned down abruptly and then a soft feminine voice echoed through his empty apartment. He faltered in his steps, concentrating on what the person said through the tape.
"Hi! Rahul? Happy Birthday, I hope you like the mixtape. All of these are from your favorite singer," the girl drew in a deep breath. "I just want to say that I really like you. You're a very sweet guy and I, uh, was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me?"
Oh.
Dhruv's shoulders deflated in what I presumed to be relief and he sighed softly. He reached for the gift wrapping and checked the address, it said 'Wurlem Heights, 702" which was the apartment next to Dhruv. Clearly the mailman had messed up the deliveries.
"So, wrong address then," he yawned to himself and stretched his arms above his head before deciding to just head to bed only to stop as another click sound boomed through his living room. "What now?"
"I know you like Dhruv's music too, I know what it means to you. I hope you enjoy these and let me know if you want more? Also, I'm really embarrassed that you have to know about my feelings like this when we've been friends for over a whole year now. It's just that I'm not good at feelings or confrontation but if you don't return the feeling, we can just pretend this never happened."
Dhruv blinked, then the ghost of a smile lingered at the corners of his lips but it was gone before I could memorize the shape of it again. He switched the system off and headed to bed. There was no name, address, or number on the wrapping for him to return it even when he flipped it around and he couldn't be bothered enough to actually inquire anything else. He could just head to the next door guy and hand it to him rightfully.
He wondered if the guy liked the person from the mixtape back or not.
-
It was four in the morning when the sound of someone retching reached Dhruv's ears. He sighed and threw his blanket off before heading to open the door and check. The birds were still chirping outside when he pushes the lock open and stuck his head out.
"Oh god, I feel like I'm going to die," came a scratchy voice Dhruv wasn't sure he has heard before in their building. It must be a new tenant. He stepped outside his apartment with his hair sticking out in directions that he couldn't comprehend. "Oh my-"
His head jerked back and his mouth formed a scowl as the sound of the person vomiting began again. "Who the hell is it?", Dhruv muttered under his breath and walked ahead to check.
It's not surprising that he found two people, a guy on his knees, vomiting into a bin against the side of his wall and a girl rubbing his back up and down. Both of them looked like they had just returned from a late-night party that turned into the morning.
"You good?", Dhruv questioned with folded arms and a frown at the sour smell that had spread till where he was standing. Both heads turned to him at once and he tilted his head when they gasped.
They knew him.
"Do you live in this building?", he asked when the guy refused to reply, only kept staring back at him with bloodshot eyes. Dhruv's gaze shifted to the girl who stood next to him with parted lips and he raised a brow. She was dressed in red, he could register but his brain was too hazy to learn her face in precision. "If you don't live here, go before I call security and if you do, please take care of getting everything cleaned by the time everybody wakes up."
Nobody said a thing so he nodded to himself. "The tenants are very grumpy here."
As soon as he was about to turn around and enter the apartment, the girl quietly called his name. "Dhruv sir?", the guy mumbled. "We're sorry for disturbing you."
"It's okay," he tells him once he has turned around only to find the guy behind slowly getting up to his feet and drag himself inside the apartment next to Dhruv's. The girl tried to smile but it was a lot of parts apologetic. That, I think, was when he blinked more and looked at her.
She wore a red dress that ended around her knees and was longer on one side. There were dashes of liner and mascara over her eyes. She looked pretty but that wasn't the most eye-catching thing about her. She was familiar in a weird way.
Behind the girl, the guy from before snaps the door of his apartment shuts in her face as if she wasn't there in the first place. She turned her head to look at the door and hurt flashed across her brown eyes.
A frown contorted his features at the rude behaviour of the guy. "What an asshole."
You see, there was this thing about Dhruv. He did not know when to hold back or when not to run his tongue. Right now too, for example, the girl was basically a stranger and they only knew each other for about three minutes.
"Excuse me?", she gaped, offense was clearly taken at Dhruv's comment and her eyebrows flew up higher on her face. "Do you even know any of us?"
"I do not need to," Dhruv chuckled. "He shut the door in the face of a girl who was helping him in such a condition. What more proof do you need to know that he's an asshole?"
She seems flabbergasted for a second and only stands with her lips parted which were also painted red. "He's clearly sick and might have not thought much when he closed the door," the girl defended and her arms came to fold beneath her chest in an arrogant fashion.
Something about her just put me off to the greatest extent ever. "Oh, is he now? Does being sick give you a pass to be rude to someone who looks after you?", Dhruv knew he was right.
Knowledge, the one that only you possess, makes you arrogant and unlikeable.
"Please stay out of my business," she said, begrudgingly fisting her hands at her sides. He puckered his lips and seemed to think over the idea before he clicked his tongue.
Before Dhruv had the chance to tell her that he was just joking, the girl was already hot on her heels and aggressively pushing the buttons of the elevator. Once the elevator had dinged open, she turned her head to throw a last glance in his direction.
Her hair swooshed in front of her, and Dhruv caught a glimpse of red but he could be wrong. He watched the elevator close in on her ace and let out a heavy chuckle once she was out of sight.
"Why is it so chilly out here?", he wondered out here and was once again, back in the vicinity of his own place. The door locked automatically behind him and with a tired sigh, the boy dropped himself onto the couch only. He switched his laptop on and played the melody he had been working on for hours the night before.
It was the first time that I saw him like this with somebody in years. However natural bickering and arguments were to him, after my death it seemed like Dhruv had taken a liking to the silence. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch with the headphones locked upon his head only to reach beneath himself and pull the letter that was digging into his back.
In the sender's messy handwriting, there was a single sentence written on it.
"Dear Rahul, I hope you're always happy.
From Sam."
Dhruv tossed the letter onto the table and let it stay unopened. I hope you're always happy. He repeated the words and turned them over in his head. Nobody had said those to him in a while and though he had no connection to the people involved or mentioned in the letter; it hurt.
It was like a big hollow feeling inside him that grew with everything that reminded him of me; all because those were the words I said to him before he boarded that flight and then we never saw each other again.