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Uzair remembers the first time he’d felt attracted to a man—in the way a man feels for a woman.
He was lanky teenager at the time, roaming around the streets of Lyari in the evenings and foraging with the rest of the gang for the dealings of his brother.
And in those evenings he used to see Hassan.
Hassan was the same age as him— conventionally attractive— with light brown eyes, an untamed curly mane, lean muscles, and a beautiful smile.
Hassan worked as a server at Amir’s Tea Stall, where Donga, Siyahi, and the rest went to take their breaks. Uzair only liked the tea Ulfat bhabhi made, but after a while the diluted tea that Hassan served seemed to become a close second.
Though Uzair never really had a proper conversation with the other boy, he’d seen Hassan also steal some glances at him—both blushing when they made accidental eye contact.
The reality was that Uzair knew he could never approach him as his heart desired.
Not if he wanted to willingly sign himself up for being an outcast for the rest of his life. Romantic feelings between men, after all, could never exist.
Plus, whatever out of bounds acts transpired between men were usually for displaying dominance over the other side. No one cared publicly enough to think outside their pants or pockets.
He didn't think Rehman bhai cared about these things, but Uzair never had the courage to go up to him and spill his guts, even though it ate him up from the inside at times.
A few years went by, and Uzair grew into his place in Bhai's empire and Hassan vanished like one of the specters in his dreams.
Uzair never went to that tea stall again.
°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡
Hamza Ali Mazari arrived like a storm in his life, upending his regular routines and somehow managing to revive his dead sense of wanting any sort of romance.
The moment he had seen the man under the broken hospital lights, after he'd thankfully saved his nephew's life, he knew he was a goner.
Those intense green-hued eyes, luscious locks, and packed muscles made him never want to take his eyes off of him.
He was no Hassan, but he was Hamza.
And for the first time in 11 years, Uzair Baloch had fallen for a man yet again.
Tu chaand hai ek dhadakta hua Chori se mujhko hi takta hua...
"Uzair-bhai, are you lost in your thoughts again? We have work to do!"
Donga's shout snapped him out of his trance where he was staring at Hamza, who was busy inspecting crates, from afar.
"Haa, haa, aa raha hoon!" He grumbled under his breath, "Can't stand in peace for a minute..."
As Uzair turned to accompany the rest of his men elsewhere, he didn't see Hamza looking up from his position, eyes following his figure till he was out of sight.
Uzair didn't know it yet, but the interest wasn't one sided in this case either.
This game of sneaking glances without letting the other one know continued for quite a long while, with the oblivious one being Uzair, because Hamza had already figured why Uzair's touches seemed to linger a little longer than necessary.
All of the unspoken tension came to a head during the night after a grand seizure of Pathan territory earlier in the day.
In every celebration the Baloch held, everyone knew that Uzair had a personal mission of drinking until he couldn't stand up straight, and this one wasn't any different either.
Hoots and hollers rang out from all sides as the men danced around the fires lit in the barrels, clinking bottles and glasses with whiskey sloshing around. Uzair's face was tinted bright pink as a lopsided, easygoing grin was plastered on his face, eyes squinting every minute or so. He leaned against the wall, head tilted, face content.
His eyes drifted across the room once again, landing on Hamza who was being continually pestered by Siyahi and Rashid to drink more of the suspicious moonshine in the off-brand bottle.
Nope, he still wasn't shitfaced enough to go and say, 'Hamze, I'm irrevocably in love with you,' or something like that.
Tipping the rest of his bottle down and gulping twice in a row, Uzair turned away and headed towards the staircase.
No one noticed.
Except for one.
Teri mohabbat mein jalna bhi hai Aur tujhse bachke hi chalna bhi hai...
Uzair shivered slightly as the night breeze fanned across his flushed cheeks, as he leaned on the moonlit balcony railing while swaying lightly with the bottle in his hand.
He lifted the glass to his lips once more only to find that it devoid of any alcohol.
"Hrhm..." Uzair grumbled under his breath as he squinted, peering into the empty bottle as if more of the whiskey would magically appear at the bottom it again.
Suddenly, the bottle was gone, leaving him to stare at his now unoccupied hand instead.
'Huh?'
He blinked confusedly for a couple seconds, before turning around, only to see the person he definitely did not want to see in his state.
"Ham...ze?"
Hamza stood there, brows slightly furrowed and mouth twisted into something Uzair couldn't decipher at the moment.
"Konsa number tha yeh?"
It took him longer than he'd like to admit to grasp what the other man was even referring to.
"...Shayad teesri waali..." Uzair shuffled his hands as he answered with eyes facing anywhere but Hamza's face.
"And after your 'probably third bottle' you're leaning against the rooftop railing? Jannat ki sawari ke liye toh tu pehle se hi tyaari kar raha hai—"
"Toh tere kya jaa raha hai?"
Hamza paused at Uzair's sudden change in tone, as the latter shifted backwards out of childish spite born from drinking too much, till his back hit the railing a little too hard, causing him to lean a little too far back—immediately startling both him and Hamza.
"Uzair!"
In the moment, Uzair felt like he would tumble off the balcony like an idiot for sure, until he was pulled forward with a tug that nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs in one go.
"!"
"Pagal ho gaya hai tu?!"
Uzair shuddered in Hamza's tight embrace as the latter barked at him with a tight panic laced in his voice, arms banded around his waist with an iron grip. They both stood still for a minute, soaking up the fast-paced emotions coursing through their veins like drugs.
"Don't ever do that...or I'll—"
"Or you'll what?" Uzair's muffled voice echoed as his heart paced up.
"....."
Uzair's breath hitched as Hamza shifted him in his arms till they were face to face again, bodies were too close to be just a worried friend's embrace.
"Hamza...why—?" Uzair whispered his name as softly as he could, afraid of breaking the fragility of the moment.
In response, Hamza moved one of his hands from the other's lean torso and placed it upon his nape, holding him in a tight grip—making Uzair let out an embarrassing squeak which darkened Hamza's eyes.
"Kyuki jisse mohabbat karta hoon...use khone ka koi irada nahi rakhta hoon."
Kuch rang apna badalna bhi hai Maine dhalna tere rang mein hai sada...