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Paa says, “I want to learn how to click pictures like you,” and Ink smiles at her, holds out her hand, and pulls her to where she stands, and Paa goes, effortlessly, revelling in her stomach swooping with anticipation and excitement, her heart picking up rate.
Ink holds Paa by her shoulders, guides her hands, tenderly cradles her wrist, her fingers lingering on her arms, her elbows, the residual feeling seeping inside her bones.
“Pictures have to be clicked with emotion,” Ink says, her eyes focusing on the scenery in front of her, “don’t go around clicking pictures of something that doesn’t inspire you, something that doesn’t make you feel as though your world is changing, something that doesn’t make you feel that warm feeling right here,” she says, pointing at the middle of her chest.
Paa’s breath hitches, her heart seizes tight, and she turns the camera to Ink, focuses on the frame the way Ink taught her to, and clicks.
Ink looks at Paa with her lips parted. If Paa didn’t know any better she’d mistake Ink’s look as adoration. But Paa does, and all she knows is that Ink is lovely and warm and kind, and projecting her love and adoration into Ink’s gaze is probably the worst thing she can do to herself. She clicks another picture of Ink, radiant as though she belongs in the sun, still half-turned towards Paa, her face somehow more flushed than before, as she asks, “What are you doing?”
Paa thinks, you inspire me, you make me feel as though my world is changing every day, you make me feel warm under my skin, inside my heart, everywhere.
***
It had taken Paa three years to realise that the love she held for Ink was romantic in nature. It was, she’d once thought, the love and respect one holds for someone when they love and respect them as an equal, and not like the extension of her brother. It was, she’d once thought, the love and respect one holds for the person who is utterly cool and so unlike her although the core of her was similar to Paa.
For the longest time, Paa had thought—I want to be her. And then, Ink had held Paa’s hand and shown her the university corridors, stood like a wall in front of her when the seniors were just a sentence or two short of being bullies, gently tucked her hair strands behind her ear, and Paa had a sudden thought, rattling her insides with such intensity that it destroyed her and reformed her in a moment—I want to be with her.
And then, Paa keeps looking at Ink—looking, and looking and looking—and Ink kept looking back, but never in the same form Paa wanted it. The look was always clouded by the projection of Paa’s own feelings, a thin rose-coloured film on Ink that makes Paa think that maybe, Ink looks at her the same way before she taps herself on the cheek for the film to fall off.
(It never does.)
But Paa is okay, after the groundbreaking realisation. Instead of falling through its crack, she feels floaty most days, and Paa thinks, that's enough, I don’t need her to look at me the same way, I get to orbit around her, and that’s enough. It has to be.
(It never is.)
***
After their photography lessons by the lake, Ink holds out her hand again, and says, “Let’s eat. You haven’t eaten yet, you must be starving.”
Paa stares at her hand almost reverently and takes it as though she was not meant for anything else but this: her hand being held by Ink as they walk, side by side to share a meal.
It seems so simple, she thinks. All Paa wants in life is to hold Ink’s hand and share a meal with her. Simple, and yet something that seems impossible at times, as though she is being too greedy by asking the universe to make it so that she gets to share a meal with the love of her life, at least once every day.
Ink flicks Paa on the forehead, and Paa drawls her name, almost jokingly, “P’Inkkk,” and Ink holds her hand—again, and asks, her eyebrows twisted in concern, “Why do you look so sad? What are you thinking about?”
You, Paa almost blurts out. “Exams,” she says. “There is a lot going on, and there’s not enough time.”
“Hm,” Ink says, then suddenly leans forward, pulling Paa’s hand forward. “Let me help you with it!”
“You have your exams too! When will you study if you’re helping me with my stuff?”
“We can study together, and that way, I can be by your side should you get stuck somewhere.”
Ink’s thumb, almost subconsciously, starts drawing circles at the juncture of Paa’s index finger and thumb. “I know that you can do it and that you’ll do well, but I want to make it easier for you if I can—one way or another.”
Why? Paa wants to scream. A whiny part of her wants to climb across the table and shake Ink’s shoulders, screaming, Why do you make it so easy for me to be in love with you? Can’t you make it a little harder?
The pain must show on Paa’s face, one way or another, for Ink’s face twists with concern again. “We don’t have to study together if that’s not what you—”
“Let’s do it,” Paa says, ignoring her heart who wants to protect itself, shield itself from the onslaught of feelings in Ink’s presence.
“Will you be okay with it?” Ink asks, her eyes searching Paa’s face.
“Of course!” Paa replies.
Ink’s smile gets goading. “Will you be able to handle my irresistible presence for all those hours then?”
No. Before Paa can reply, Ink says, “Kidding, kidding! I am ready to study with you.”
Paa smiles in reply, fearing that her feelings would burst out of their seams right there and then.
***
Sometimes, the unspoken words, the unexpressed feelings, feel like a burden, feel like carrying a heavy, dense nimbus cloud—any moment, they’d both be drenched by the outpour of rain that would keep falling for Ink, no sun in sight. Mostly, however, it feels like a warm glow seated behind Paa’s ribs, golden light flowing out of her fingertips, enlightening her path, her way.
On the days the nimbus cloud is especially heavy, Paa tends to contemplate.
“Is it easier to confess or keep the feelings hidden away?” Paa asks, gazing at Pat and Ink from afar, seated beside Pran.
Pran whips his head towards her and then squints in Ink’s direction. “Ah,” he says, scooting closer so their shoulders brush together, half in comfort, half in solidarity.
“I wouldn’t have ever revealed my feelings if Pat hadn’t,” Pran says after a while.
“Because that’s easier?”
“Because that’s all I’d never known,” he says.
“You don’t have to tell her just because you think confessing would help you get over her, but because you deserve to have your feelings expressed and because she deserves to know that she is loved by someone as great as you, Paa,” Pran says, “but only if you want to. Not because you think you have to.”
“And if our friendship is irreparable ruined?”
“That’s your biggest worry?”
Paa knows that Ink could never feel the same way, knows it the way she knows all the letters in her name. Ink is beautiful and friendly and warm—she jokes, at times, laughs and twirls Paa’s hair, leans in close and stares at her lips and moves away with a joke on the tip of her tongue before Paa can get her hopes up. So, Paa thinks, that is her biggest worry—losing Ink completely because Paa was impatient enough to share something that could’ve waited if she were stronger.
Paa hums.
“Pat and I will be there for you,” he says, smiling at her. “But tell me, Paa. Do you truly think she’d remove herself from your life because of that?”
Paa shakes her head. Ink might ask for space, and Paa will gladly give it, but she would never remove herself from Paa’s life. Things might change—as they do regardless, but it would never be this catastrophic.
“No,” Paa answers honestly, gazing at Ink again, who turns to look at her at the same time. Paa manages a smile, and Ink smiles brighter. The rain cloud gets lighter and lighter.
***
The thing with Ink is: she is way too observant for Paa to go through the metamorphosis of being fully in love with Ink under her gaze without her noticing. She doesn’t do anything about that observation but her reaction is as follows: narrows her eyes when Paa gets a little too conscious of her actions in the light of her newfound feelings. She leans in closer, makes her laugh more, and somehow, flirts harder and retracts faster. It isn’t out of malice, Paa knows.
Paa decides that confessing her true feelings is the way to get out of Ink’s reaction, something her fragile heart cannot handle lately.
Paa plans her confession out. They will first go for a pleasant walk and then go out for dinner at a restaurant on the other side of their suburb (they can physically leave the place when things will undoubtedly go against Paa’s favour which is in line with her expectation). They will reach there separately (so as to not endure the awkward silence after Ink’s rejection). Paa will blurt it out when her cab (she can’t drive while crying) arrives (a quick escape). Pran, the only one who knows about her plan, will be waiting for her in his dorm with her favourite ice cream (consolation).
Paa wanted to get another sim card to change into after the confession but Pran had looked at her, straight-faced, and asked, “How would this help you in your goal of maintaining a friendship with Ink afterwards?” and Paa had quietened her anxious pacing and said, “it wouldn’t,” and Pran had narrowed his eyes and said, “so what are we going to do then?” and Paa had said, “sit down and confront her reaction to my feelings,” and Pran had nodded and patted her on her back, “exactly.”
Paa recites everything she will tell Ink, checks their reservation twice, then thrice, when it doesn’t feel enough. She asks Pat for his opinions on her outfits and rejects every one of them that he approves of. Outside, the wind picks up pace, the clouds darken and darken, and Paa looks at them, worried.
When she’s about to leave the dorm, her hand on the door’s handle, Paa’s phone lights up with Ink’s call.
“Paa,” Ink says, apology clear in her tone, “have you left already?”
“No,” Paa replies, smiling involuntarily. “Did you reach already? It’ll only take me 15 minutes to reach there, I’ll leave just now.”
“Oh, thank god,” Ink says, “I am stuck with some work at a senior’s house. I don’t think we can meet today, so don’t leave alright?”
Immediately, the thunder rolls, Paa’s room seems to get darker. “P’Ink, what?”
“Paa,” Ink says sincerely, “I am sorry, I was looking forward to this too. I will make it up to you, I promise. But today seems impossible.”
“I have made reservations for us,” Paa says, almost robotically.
“Reservations?” Ink laughs, her tone slipping into the easy flirting again, “sounds fancy. Were we going on a date, Paa?”
That seems like the last straw for Paa. Before Ink can take her statement back, Paa chokes on a sob, says, “Nevermind,” cuts the call, grabs her car keys, and flees the dorm room.
***
It begins raining as soon as Paa steps into the restaurant. The rain—a cloudburst that pelts down without mercy—doesn’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon.
Paa is grateful that she brought her car here, and a small part of her is also grateful that their plans got cancelled—regardless of how much she was looking forward to it. Travelling in the rain seems horrifying and she can talk about her feelings on a bright sunny day—the rains aren’t permanent but Paa’s feelings don’t seem to be going away anytime soon.
In retrospect, she feels a little…silly for overreacting to such an extent. Ink doesn’t know what Paa had been intending on doing; she teases, something Paa has known since forever, and there is no point in directing her anger at her for something that isn’t even her fault, especially when she is more upset about not being able to confess today.
She orders her favourite food, texts Pran to let him know of the drastic change in plans, ignores Ink’s calls (she isn’t ready to face her yet, okay? She isn’t avoiding!) and switches off her phone to eat in silence, only broken by the excited chatters of the people near them and the loud patter of the rain she’s surrounded by.
Paa gets a little too lost in her own world; so much so, that she doesn’t realise the door opening, a trembling figure entering, looking around the restaurant, a little lost. When the trembling figure finally finds Paa at the centre of the restaurant, she relaxes, her gaze softening.
Paa doesn’t notice the trembling figure until she is close to Paa’s table, and when she does, she abruptly stands up, in shock, surprise, everything in between. “P’Ink,” she whispers, “what—you’re fully drenched and shivering!”
“Paa,” Ink says, her eyes looking more sorry than ever, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”
Paa shakes her head, breathing through her mouth, holding out her hand and pulling Ink close. She can question Ink later, but first, she grabs the jacket in her bag to put around Ink’s shoulders. After ordering soup, Paa’s fingers find the loose strands of hair stuck on Ink’s forehead, gently pushing them back. “It’s pouring outside. Why did you come?”
“I shouldn’t have said—”
“It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not,” Ink says, holding Paa’s hands tightly. “You sounded so broken, so sad, and then I couldn't reach you, and I was so worried that I have done something irreparable.”
“Worrying about doing something irreparable is my job, P’Ink,” Paa says, “not yours.”
“That’s all I ever worry of,” Ink whispers. “You are the most precious person to me. I cannot lose you.”
The soup arrives then. Paa pulls her quivering hands out of Ink’s and pulls the bowl towards them. “Eat, P’Ink.”
***
Despite everything, they settle into their usual routine with ease. They make each other laugh and snort and wipe each other’s upper lips without making it weird, but there is this added layer of… something, the weight of the unsaid feelings growing heavier with every passing moment.
The rain is still pouring hard when they decide to leave. Paa says, “Let me drop you home,” and Ink says, “just come home with me. We can watch something good.”
When they’re stuck in traffic, about three minutes from Ink’s room, Paa asks, “How did you know I was here?”
Ink heaves a sigh, stares out of the window, and says, “I asked Pran after you wouldn’t pick up.”
“Oh,” Paa says.
“I had this feeling,” Ink says, turning around to face Paa, “a feeling that told me that I would be making a mistake if I didn’t see you today. I begged and pleaded with the seniors—something I should’ve done before. When they allowed, I followed that feeling and here I am.”
“You didn’t have to,” Paa says. “I sort of… overreacted.”
“You planned something special for us and I joked about it being a date,” Ink laughs humourlessly. “You have every right to be more upset, Paa.”
Paa bites her lip. “You… you weren’t wrong.”
“About what?”
The signal turns green, Paa takes a deep breath and drives ahead. “About… this being a date. Of sorts,” she chuckles. “I think that’s what made me more upset. But you didn’t know since I didn’t tell you, so it really wasn’t your fault.”
“Paa… what?” Ink breathes out.
Paa resolutely keeps her eyes trained on the road, not replying to Ink’s question at all. Ink’s building soon comes into view and she pulls over, keeping the seatbelt tightly intact and not moving from her seat, not even looking at Ink, not even once.
Ink does not try hurrying her up, but Paa feels the weight of her gaze just the same. Outside, the rain is calmer than it was before.
“I… I like you,” Paa says, still not looking at Ink. “I know you don’t and trust me, I am okay with it, but that’s why I’ve been so weird lately, that’s why I can’t hold a pen without dropping it when I see you, that’s why I can’t function properly around you. I like you so, so much that these words feel like they’re scraping my insides raw right now but are also like a soothing balm to them.”
Paa turns towards Ink but still doesn’t meet her eyes. She feels her own tears fall, but there is no avoidance here, no escape. “I like you. Forgive me. I want us to still be friends.”
Paa looks at Ink only when she hears her heaving a sigh. When their eyes finally meet, Ink’s eyes are rubbed red, her lips pressed together, her hands outstretched midway. “Paa,” she says. “Paa,” she says again, with the urgency of a drowning person.
In a moment, Ink throws herself into Paa’s arms, cradling the back of her neck softly, whispering incomprehensible things in her ear, pressing soft kisses on the side of her head in succession. She looks at Paa again, holds her face as though it is love and life and everything beyond, rubs her thumb on her cheekbones and whispers, “Paa, do you know how much energy it takes for me to not kiss you every time I see you? To not announce to the world that I am yours and have always been yours? To see you every day and know that you don’t see me looking at you the way I want you to look at me?”
A choked gasp escapes Paa’s mouth. “I do,” she says. “I do look at you that way. I have always looked at you that way, P’Ink. I like you so much.”
“I like you,” Ink whispers, kissing her right cheek. “I like you,” she whispers, kissing her left cheek. “I like you,” a kiss on her chin. “I like you,” a kiss on her forehead, “I like you so, so much,” a kiss on her nose.
“I like you,” Paa whispers, leaning forward, their lips pressing together when Ink meets her halfway.
Outside, the rain continues pouring, albeit with lesser force. Inside the car, however, surrounded by each other’s presence, the warm glow in the middle of their chest expands until they merge, submerging them, painting their hearts golden.