Chapter Text
Maybe he would wake up.
Is what he thought when Maa opened the doors and walked in, her hair all disheveled and eyes watery and bright red under the dirty ceiling lights.
'Bhai, how long will you sleep? Both Maa and Baba are here now, you know—'
He flinched badly at the sound of skin hitting skin; a hand enveloping his head—Uzair chachu—to bury his head in the kurta smelling of gunmetal and factory oil.
Faizal didn't remember when, or how exactly he had reached home that night.
Except for the fact that Maa wouldn't let go of him for the entire night, bundling him in her arms, whispering her eternal gratitude towards the divine and breathing in the scent of her only living child.
—
Hamza bhaiya was strange.
'No, you doofus, he saved your life.'
But, not his Bhai's—
Not his Bhai's—
'Shut up, stupid.'
He dribbled the football , rolling it beneath his foot and kicking it ever so lightly towards the lemon flowers planted beside him.
Then, that feeling was back again.
The one where his heart squeezed painfully in his chest and a lump formed in his throat.
Who would he pass his goals to now?
He wasn't standing beside him anymore.
'Faizal! Don't kick my knees, you little shit!'
'You just suck at defending, stop being dramatic—'
Somehow, the wind howling in the empty backyard sounded like it was also grieving alongside Faizal.
—
"Hey...you want a smoke?"
"What—"
Faizal's brain stopped processing for a moment.
When Baba had found out that Naieem was sneaking some of his smoke packs when he hung out with his friends—well, let's just say it hadn't gone so well. Faizal had to sneak him sweets throughout the week just to make sure Naieem wouldn't stop talking to their father completely out of spite.
Plus, just because he was used to the smell, didn't mean he was prone to like it as a default.
"No..."
"Well, damn. If I was in your place, I would have turned to at least 5 back alley deals by now."
"Not everyone copes by doing hardcore drugs, Rashid."
"Dude, how is this hardcore—"
Rashid might have had a smoking problem, despite their ages, but he was undeniably one of his few good friends—okay, fine, he was Faizal's best friend.
At least he cared in his own way.
The rest of his household, however, was a different story.
Yeah, Maa and Baba doted on him more than ever now—but every interaction was shrouded by an inevitable veil of grief, no matter how hard he tried to avoid acknowledging it.
But, Baba was more in his office than in the haveli and his mother more in Naieem's room.
During dinners, Faizal barely ate half of his entire morsel before his stomach rebelled and made him stand up from the table to leave to his room.
And, Uzair chachu...well, at least he tried to be more present than his parents.
"—You wanna run away with me?"
"Is this your 4th one?"
"I won't confirm nor deny," Rashid said, before throwing his lit cigarette on the ground, "but, I'm serious."
"If this is your way of confessing your undying love for me—"
"—I can't, anymore. The fights...they've been getting worse."
Faizal paused.
"It gets to a point, y'know. For all of us."
"Are you actually trying to show emotions—"
Faizal ducked from the incoming fist aimed at his side.
"Alright, okay!...But where would we even go?" He huffed, eyes softening a tad more.
"Well, I've heard mountain ranges are the prettiest in this time of the year."