"Are you talking to the moon again?" I asked in a subtle tone, striving not to spook him as I paced closer to where he was sitting.
"Can't sleep again?" Gracefully, he queried as we sneered at each other. His bright eyes looked pleased as I followed his eyes to the moon, unable to look at the shining stone like him.
"What did you tell it today?" I added as I sat beside him.
He shifted his eyes at me, reminding me of the mere distance between us. His eyes twinkled at me, gullibly tracing my face.
I noticed a small scar on the right of his forehead. It looked fresh, but it wasn't there when we last met.
His eyes were cold, yet mesmerizing. Something unfathomable and jailing hid in his eyes. Something I tried to listen to and see but failed.
His scent was just like rose water, enchanting my consciousness.
"About your house still not having any light." I snickered at his joking eyes, defending myself. "I tried to put some lights on the porch. But couldn't. I'm too short to reach that high."
"Or you're scared you will fall." His remark silenced me as he gazed deep into my eyes. It was not a teasing remark. The way he said it had a trigger hidden.
We sat, silent, for the next five minutes as we stared at our diverse amusements. Sea and the Moon.
There was no exchange of words between us, but my head kept me company.
'Scared of falling?'
He might not have meant it the way I was thinking about it. But if he did. Was I scared of falling? But what did it mean?
"You remember I denied when you asked if the moon ever answers my question?" He abruptly spoke, ending the deafening silence between us.
"I thought a lot about it last night. And I think it does." He paused, guiding me again to the moon. "When I word my misery to the moon. I get answers on my own." As he spoke, I noticed an empty, distant feeling in his eyes.
Soft and subtle, his tone hypnotized me as my heart urged me to look at him.
"It's like the moon talks to you. In the tone of your heart." His eyes twinkled as he worded the sentence, and his skin bloomed in the light of the moon, making my heart rush as he optimistically continued,
"You can hear it talking and answering your questions." He paused, trapping my eyes, staring at him. "You just have to talk about your troubles. Give them a voice."
I wondered what did he mean. How come wording your misery can solve itself?
"When did you come here?" He asked, fishing me out from the deep ocean of his eyes.
"A week ago," I answered, still dazed by the purity he held.
I added, "My parents bought this house and wanted to come here. My father said places like this bring you peace and joy. They make you more human."
"You don't seem to believe that." I popped a smile, glaring at the sea as I replied. "I don't."
"Then why are you here?" He asked, "to take care of my brother and to acknowledge my parent's last wish."
I remember shouting at him, on a call. They had been lying to both me and my brother. I knew nothing about their plan of shifting to the countryside.
"Tashi, it's the best environment for you and your brother. You'll love it there." My father replied with love to my harsh tone.
He was always very understanding. Someone who understood the difference between me and my brother. But as I grew up, the distance between us broadened.
Maybe I became too much for him as well.
"No! You know I don't want that. I don't want to live such a life. Stuck with country bimbos." I argued his proclamation. I didn't understand why was willing to sacrifice my life when he knew my inclinations.
"Tashi, you'll not be stuck anywhere. You can do whatever you want there as well."
I could hear the car horns from his side of the line as I continued quarreling. "Why don't you understand? I don't want to live in a place like that. You lied. You and Mom. You both are liars."
The voices of horns. My father's and my mother's tone echoed in my head as my eyes traveled far into the sea.
The scent of the ocean had suddenly turned into jasmine and tobacco, rushing my breaths. I felt my nostrils stuck, my vision blurry, and my ears ringing.
And then suddenly, I felt warmth caressing my icy hand.
"Stop looking at the sea like that." He boomed, calm and gentle, snapping me out of my head and grasping my fist tighter as he added, "Talk to the moon instead."
I listened to him, struggling to meditate my breaths, shifting my gaze at the moon, trying to understand him and fight the memories which rushed in my head.
"I don't know what to say." I stuttered and fluttered as he slithered adjacent to me.
"Don't struggle to know what you want to say. Just say what you want." His words riddled me. Yet I tried. "I. I feel nothing."
I paused, numb but bewildered.
"Sometimes, emotions cloud me and pour heavy rain on me, and sometimes there are no emotions at all. Just like the parched desert, crying dry tears."
He listened. He sat there, holding my hand, listening quietly as I impassively spoke further. "I can't be weak." I looked at the dazzling moon, shining brighter, almost full.
"For my brother. I can't be weak. If I'm not strong, who will support him? I don't want to fail. Not this time." I felt my throat getting heavy and my head ringing as my breaths, again, unsettled.
"I think that's enough for today." He gently grasped my face, so close to his, preventing an erupting volcano inside me.
I could see myself in his eyes. I could hear him breathe and inhale his scent. That very calming scent and a trace of worry.
He started humming a tune in his magnificent voice. A lax and beautiful melody.
He sang like an angel, cruising my mind peace.
His tone was calling my name, and I laid my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, which gave a melancholy rhythm to his humming.
His arms were comfortable and soothing. He caressed my hair and softly rocked my body in his arms. It felt like he knew my misery. I felt like I didn't have to say anything because he understood me.
He didn't require words to hear me.
Smooth like his melody, I didn't realize when I rekindled with his lips, barring his angelic tone.
He didn't oppose it as well.
His soft cheeks filled my palm as I drew my fingers to his neck. And as I presumed, his skin was tender, but not icy.
His skin burned my cold palm, and his lips were not assertive but calm. His tongue waited for me to take hold and played as I deepened the kiss and pushed my tongue into his mouth.
The loud humming that his mouth was crafting created another song, connected to my lips. He kissed me back, yanking me on his thighs as his tongue tried invading my mouth.
He held my waist and pushed his body above me, laying me down on the warm sand.
"Who are you?" I asked, watching his curls fall to his eyes as his face bloomed red.
"Will you tell me to go if I don't answer?" His eyes were yearning, his tone pleaded as he held my face with deep affection.
His answer bewildered me a little, but I was also mindful that who he was didn't matter.
I was already thankful for the comfort he offered. I couldn't ask for more.
Not if he was not willing to give.
"You can at least tell me your name."
"Naksh." He spoke with uncertainty and haste, adding, "My name." He looked bewildered, daring, and unsettled as his eyes fluttered. Which never happened before.
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