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Charan lay stretched out on the new cream-colored divan sleeping. He had fallen asleep reading a hardcover book, his finger keeping his place, his glasses slanted. Tarak took Charan's glasses off and set them on the coffee table.
He sat on the floor beside the divan and whispered in his ear: "Cherry. Cherry…" Charan opened both eyes and looked at him. "What?"
"I made us some tea. Sit up and scoot over, I want to make a toast to our new divan!" His eyes were as wide and bright as a child with a shiny new toy.
Charan grunted. The only thing he wanted to do at that moment was to keep sleeping. He had just gotten settled into a deep, dreamless sleep, when he heard Tarak call him. He didn't have the heart to turn him down, so Charan sat up and rubbed his eyes, putting his book on the table beside his glasses.
"What are you reading?" Tarak asked, glancing at the book's cover. It was blood red, with the title and author's name in bright yellow to contrast. "Ah, 'Sacred Games' by Vikram Chandra. Wow, I can't believe I didn't notice how thick it is. That looks like 1000 pages!"
"Not quite, but close. There are 916 pages. It's really good so far, if you want to borrow it when I finish it." Charan yawned and sat up straighter.
Tarak grinned. "No thanks, and no offense, but there's no way I would want to read such a long, lumbering book when I can watch the series instead. Saif bhai stars in it, you know."
"Oh, 'Saif bhai.' Well, in that case, I need to resubscribe to Netflix. We can watch it together sometime. Now, bring the tea here. We can make a toast, with tea, and drink it at the coffee table."
Tarak nodded and went to the kitchen, bringing back two teacups and a plate of hummus and pita chips. "I'm sorry I didn't take the time to cook something a little more filling, but I simply don't have the time today. I have to be back on set in an hour."
"Ah yes, we can't keep 'Saif bhai' waiting." Charan ate a pita chip without dipping it into the hummus. "Thank you for thinking of me, anna, but I don't like chickpeas," he said gently when he noticed Tarak's hurt expression.
"Sarē. Hey Charan, are you feeling ok? You sound almost jealous of the idea of me spending so time with Saif bhai…"
Charan clicked his tongue. "Well, to be frank, yes I am. After spending nearly three years filming with you, I am a little bit irrationally resentful of Saif Ali Khan sir."
Tarak pursed his lips. "But Charan, you are just now wrapping up filming, and you have spent countless hours with Anjali madam, and Kiara madam, not to mention Jayaram, Nassar, Sunil, Srikanth, and Samuthirakani sirs. I understand that you're working. I do not feel resentful at all."
Charan ate another pita chip to buy some time. When he spoke, it was with a soft, quivering whimper: "Yes, bangaram, but how many times have you heard me refer to my colleagues as 'bahan' or 'bhai?' Well?"
"I - I have never heard you refer to them as such. But Charan, I don't mean to hurt you when I call Saif sir by that name! It is just that he is one of my favorite actors in Bollywood, someone I have admired for more than half of my life. I was just fifteen when I saw Saif sir in Kachche Dhaage, and his performance made a profound impact on me."
Charan cupped Tarak's chin in his hand. He tilted his face down to look deeply into his eyes and kiss him. "Sarē, you're absolutely right. It is silly of me. So, this being Saif sir's first Telugu film, I have to ask, how are his language skills?"
Tarak giggled. "Well, I appreciate his efforts, but he is, let's just say, 'far from fluent.' He is learning his dialogue phonetically, line by line. Our characters communicate in Telugu, but we communicate in Hindi or English. Saif sir is hopeful that his skills will improve over time, but at the moment, he is not confident at all."
"That's too bad. He has always seemed so self-assured. Well then, I suppose I should let you be on your way. I'm going back to sleep for a while, but when I wake up I'll put everything away." Charan picked up his teacup and took a sip. It tasted very sweet and slightly metallic all at once.
Tarak lifted his teacup. "Here's to our new divan, and our new flat. Here's to you, Charan, for being my best friend, for being the best man I have ever known. Thank you. I love you."
They lightly tapped their teacups together, and then linked their arms at the elbows and finished drinking each other's tea. When they were done, they put the teacups down on the table and embraced, resting their hands behind each other's neck.
Reluctantly, Tarak let go and left, promising to return as soon as he could. He blew a kiss and slowly shut the door.
As soon as he could no longer hear the sound of Tarak's receding footsteps, Charan stood stricken in front of the divan, and could no longer hold his tears back.
He felt furious with himself, and slammed a fist into the wall. A hollow thud resounded in response. Charan threw himself down on the divan and sobbed.
"Ram Charan Tej Konidela! What the hell is wrong with you?!"