Wednesday. 1:15 am.
the cursor blinked on the screen—a rhythmic, relentless heartbeat. blink. blink. blink.
the room was dark, save for the blue-white glow of the laptop screen, which cast shubham's face in ghostly, harsh relief. the only sound was the frantic clack-clack-clack of his typing. he didn't have a quiet keyboard; he had one of those old, sturdy ones where every keystroke sounded like a small bone snapping.
he was huddled in the chair, shoulders hunched up to his ears. the fever was still simmering under his skin—she could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the way his eyes looked glassy and red-rimmed behind his glasses.
reshma watched from the doorway, leaning against the frame. the floor tiles were cold under her feet. she could smell the faint ozone scent of electronics running too hot—his charger was probably burning a hole in the carpet.
he looked wrecked. absolutely destroyed. but working. always working.
"seriously," she cut in, her voice slicing through the mechanical rhythm of his typing. half playful, half genuinely annoyed. "are you gay? a clearly hot girl was right next to you earlier—practically throwing herself at you—and you're still glued to this machine? you should have just married the laptop. at least it has a mute button."
he didn't look up. didn't even pause. "about that..." his tone was flat. tired. brutally honest.
he finally stopped typing. the silence that followed was heavy, ringing in her ears. his shoulders slumped, the tension draining out only to be replaced by a profound weariness.
"i have to work. for food. for things you need. my lady." he turned the chair slightly. the plastic wheels squeaked on the floor. "if i don't—we leave this place. we lose the flat. we go back to patna. defeat."
he rubbed his face with both hands, the friction audible. the mask of the stoic protector slipped. no more humor. no more "ghost" jokes. just exhaustion.
"and your illness..." his voice cracked, a jagged sound. "we need money for treatment. injections. scans. i can't just wait while you're suffering. i love you."
tears.
actual, glistening tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. he didn't bother to hide them. didn't wipe them away. just let them sit there, magnifying his fear.
she froze.
all the awkwardness. the "ghost vessel" jokes. the mosshead behavior. stripped away in a second.
just a boy. scared. loving her. fighting a dragon with a laptop.
slowly, moving through the thick emotion in the room, she walked over. she could feel the heat radiating from the laptop, from him. she leaned down and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
she pressed her forehead against the back of his head. his hair smelled of sweat and that cheap lemon shampoo he insisted on buying—clean, sharp, and familiar. her hands locked over his chest, feeling the steady, terrified thrum of his heart.
"huh... what am i going to do with you?" she whispered into his hair.
he startled at the contact, muscles tensing. "hey!"
"that's why i'm here," she said softly. "i don't want to be your burden. i just... i like your smiling face. i miss it."
he turned halfway in his chair, craning his neck to meet her gaze. his eyes were wet, swimming with fatigue. a tired, fragile smile tried to break through.
"then what can i do for my lady?"
she raised a brow, pulling back slightly to look at him. "seriously?"
"yes." the grin returned, but smaller. weaker. "my ghost has to give me commands. the vessel only moves if possessed."
her lips twitched.
play along. give him an anchor.
"then maybe i should command you," she said. she stepped closer, sliding around the side of the chair. she placed her hands on his waist. his shirt was damp. her fingers traveled up his chest, feeling the ribs, the warmth. up to his jaw, rough with stubble that scratched her fingertips pleasantly.
she let her fingers linger on his lips. they were dry, hot with fever.
"what command should i give?"
he swallowed hard. she felt the movement against her hand. "hey... this isn't right. before marriage."
"oh?" she tilted her head, voice dropping into a mock-innocent lilt. "but how can a vessel think when possessed? maybe you're already losing control. maybe the ghost is taking over."
"this is not right," he repeated, weaker this time. whispered. like a plea.
"see? the vessel is trying to resist. i should tighten my grip before he escapes."
she moved closer. the warmth radiating between them was palpable now, a physical force. she could smell the faint scent of tea on his breath.
he deflected, desperate for a distraction. "you should put some clothes on. winter is coming. you'll catch a cold. looking like that..."
she sighed, rolling her eyes, but the affection in her chest was expanding, filling her ribs. "you're no fun. if it were any other guy, he'd have given in by now."
she patted the bed beside the desk. the sheets were rumpled, inviting. "fine then. come here. lay down—you'll feel better. after a long day of work, your neck must be stiff. you look like a question mark."
he hesitated. looked at the laptop screen—code waiting, judgment waiting. then looked at her.
softness won.
he closed the laptop. the click was final. the blue glow vanished, leaving them in the gentle yellow of the streetlamp outside.
he obeyed.
he lowered himself onto the bed, awkward, stiff. he rested his head meticulously, carefully, in her lap.
her eyes widened.
the weight of his head on her thighs was heavy, grounding. warm.
"what! do you do this often? lying in girls' laps? you scoundrel!" she smacked his head lightly, trying to mask the blush heating her own cheeks. "who else have you done this with?"
he chuckled, eyes closed, lashes dark against his flushed cheeks.
"no. it's not like that. since i was a kid, whenever i had a fever or felt down, i'd sleep in my mother's lap. it... felt safe. world stopped."
her expression softened. the tension melted out of her shoulders.
she looked down at him. this angle—inverted, vulnerable. she could see the dark circles, the worry lines.
her hand moved instinctively, fingers combing through his hair. it was messy, soft. she scratched his scalp gently, and he let out a long, shuddering breath.
"seriously..." he mumbled, voice drifting, slurring slightly towards sleep. "i never thought i'd open up like this. especially not to a girl. i always thought it was impossible. but here you are... accepting a weirdo like me. thank you."
her throat tightened. she wanted to tease him, to say something sharp to break the overwhelming intimacy. words stuck.
she traced lazy circles at the back of his neck, feeling the pulse there.
suddenly, he turned his face inwards. he buried his face right into her stomach. his arms came up, wrapping tight around her waist, hugging her midriff.
"shubham?" she gasped.
a muffled sound against her shirt.
she lifted his head slightly, trying to see his face.
he was bright red. blushing furiously. glowing even in the dim light. he buried his face again immediately, hiding in the soft fabric of her t-shirt.
"oh my god," she whispered, delight warring with her own sudden shyness. "you're blushing. you are actually blushing."
"shut up," came the muffled reply from her stomach. "vessel malfunction. system overheat."
"you are ADORABLE."
"shut up."
she felt the heat of his face burning through her thin t-shirt. his breath was hot against her skin. it was uncomfortable, intimate, weird, and incredibly nice all at once.
her stomach did a flip. butterflies? no. eagles. dragons.
she rested her hand on his ear, shielding him from the world.
"okay," she whispered. "sleep now. vessel. command accepted."
"command accepted," he mumbled into her stomach.
minutes later, his breathing evened out. deep. rhythmic. asleep.
she sat there, pinned by his weight, surrounded by the silence of the night. the laptop charger hummed in the corner, a little vigil light.
she watched him.
freak. workaholic. crybaby.
hers.
outside, the city carried on—cars honking in the distance, dogs barking. inside, their strange little world had found a fragile, precious stillness.
(Speaker: emotional code compiling. warning: system unstable. butterflies detected in stomach region. proceeding with caution. also, someone please unplug that charger before it burns the house down.)