As the river flows

Chapter 9

Ankit’s head was pounding. He had nobody to blame but himself. Maybe he should have listened to his instincts and gone back home, instead of coming over to Damon’s apartment to ‘chill’. Because, this experience had been anything but that. And now as he rushed down the stairs, ignoring the distressed calls of his name, as Damon followed behind him, he could feel the pressure at the back of his eyelids, could almost feel the tears start to overflow. If he had just taken Laura and just gone bloody home!

Laura was still upstairs, sleeping the alcohol off in one of the guest bedrooms, blissfully unaware of the sheer amount of crap that had been so carelessly and ceaselessly flung at Ankit. Bloody Matteo Bianchi! Who did he think he was! That self-entitled bastard!

Things had been going relatively smoothly up until the point that Ankit had found himself alone on the balcony with Matteo. He had gone out for some fresh air, after an unprecedentedly raucous round of ‘Never have I ever’, only to find the balcony already occupied. Matteo had been standing with his back to the door, looking out at the night sky, a stick of cigarette held carelessly between his fingers.

And for a second, Ankit had considered leaving, backing out, their recent altercation still fresh in his mind. Ankit was not confrontational by nature. Yet, there was something about this man that had overshadowed his easy-going acceptance of life’s trials and tribulations, and brought out the worst in him. He had not enjoyed the version of himself that he had become for those brief couple of minutes, ready to put someone in their place. It did not sit well with him, and the ball of guilt that sat heavily in his stomach demanded that he beg for forgiveness. Yet, he knew that he had been in the right, and asking for forgiveness now would only come across as admitting defeat, and if there was something that Ankit hated more than confrontations, it was losing.

Thus, Ankit had found himself walking forward, and closing the door quietly behind himself, even as his heart thudded sluggishly in his chest, and a lump started to form in his throat.

Matteo hadn’t even turned to acknowledge his existence, seemingly lost in his thoughts. That had suited Ankit just fine. He had sighed deeply and looked out at the road, watching as a few stragglers made their way across, piling over each other in their drunken euphoria. On the other side of the road, there was a cat slinking through the darkness, retreating further into the shadows as the group crossed it, falling all over the place. Just before turning the corner, one of them bumped into a hunched form that brushed aside their apologies, and kept walking, pulling their heavy hooded jacket, closer to their body. Ankit found a sort of solace in the way the man ducked his head down and hiked up the back pack over his shoulders. He remembered all the times that he would come home late from class, having lost track of time, immersed in the colours that swirled and drew him in. The Delhi air would wrap around him, the sights and smells hectic and haywire. The rush of people ever present even late into the night. You could almost taste the very essence of life on your tongue, grimy and sour, rending your heart and leaving its stamp on your soul.

With a pang, Ankit realized that he missed home, especially the noise that permeated through the pores of your entire existence, ever-present, letting you know that life exists. The all-pervading silence in France sometimes pressed heavily against his eardrums, loud and inescapable. It left a gaping hole in his heart that he realized could only be filled by the loud honking of horns as cars passed each other by on the roads, and the calls of hawkers as they hustled.

Ankit smiled to himself as he remembered all the times that he had winded through the thick traffic on the road, almost being run over. There was a certain thrill to that experience.

From the corner of his eyes he could see Matteo turn towards him at the sound, but for both their sakes, Ankit decided to ignore him for the time being. It seemed like Matteo felt the same way. Guess they agreed on something, Ankit thought wryly, shaking his head.

His headache had receded slightly, but it seemed to fester just below the surface, waiting to be provoked into being. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Ankit took a deep breath in, feeling the throb pulsing in his skull. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that last shot. The wind blew across the balcony, making Ankit shiver lightly. He wrapped his arms snugly around himself and leant against the railing. The wind pulled at his locks with tender fingers and for a moment he took solace in the feeling, the comfort of being shrouded in darkness, alone and free.

He breathed in deep, resting his face on his palm and his elbow on the railing. His mind was floaty and the streetlights refused to be in focus. The cat slinked back onto the street, jumping over railing and pots of plants. It made Ankit smile. Not even Matteo’s presence beside him could taint this moment. He moved to get more comfortable, the railing digging into the sensitive spot of his elbow. He moved his feet further back and slumped down.

There must have been a wet spot on the ground that he hadn’t noticed before, but his stomach lurched the moment he felt his foot slip, propelling him forward. He felt the breath get knocked out of him as his elbow slipped, and his body gave into the pull of gravity, tipping him over the edge of the railing. The moment seemed to stretch on, and he felt panic bubble up in his heart as he felt himself fall off the balcony.

He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable end. So this is how he would die, drunk and stupid, having fallen off a balcony!

Suddenly, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist, hauling him back, pulling him to safety, planting his feet back on firm ground. Gasping, he clutched onto the shirt in front of him, he could feel his knees shake and his hands sweat. The possibility of death had been too real, too close for comfort. He felt his headache pound into his skull with full force, and the air that he gulped in seemed to burn his lungs.

He felt the arms around him move, only to rip him away. He fell against the wall with a jolt, pain lancing up his back and muddling his head further. The lights from the streetlamp and from inside the house seemed brighter, the sound of his heart seemed to pound against his eardrums, disorienting him.

He could see Matteo standing in front of him, towering over him, as he gestured with his hands, his eyes livid. His mouth was moving, forming words, but they seemed to flow over Ankit’s head, sounding like white noise, a backdrop to his own panic.

He blinked up slowly, still in a daze and flexed his fingers, feeling the coarse grain of the wall scratch against them. He shook his head slightly, trying to focus on Matteo as he ran one of his hands haphazardly through his hair. He was still saying something, and as Ankit’s world slowly stopped swirling, he could make out the words, as they were shouted at him.

“…wrong with you? Don’t you care about anything?” Matteo heaved, “You’re really f*****g careless!”

“I- I, uh,” mumbled Ankit, unsure about what to say, still trying to wrap his mind around the events. From his peripheral vision, he watched as the door to the balcony was slid open, and Amelie stepped out, a frown marring her pretty face. She looked at him with a questioning gaze and Ankit felt himself move towards her, the warmth on her face almost a welcoming embrace.

But, before he could take two steps, he was yanked back, the motion jarring his senses to clarity. He turned to face a fuming Matteo.

“Thank you!” blurted Ankit, realizing with a jolt that it must have been Matteo that saved him from falling to his death.

“Are you f*****g joking? You’re an absolute f*****g mess! A freaking menace. You’re so f*****g clumsy! You should’ve just stayed at home. That would have been best for everyone! You’re loud and obnoxious! I can’t even tolerate to look at you. So please, don’t f*****g thank me!”

Taken aback, Ankit looked at Matteo, confused and dazed, unsure where such venom was coming from. 

“I’ m s-sorry…” He started, but was cut off with a snort from Matteo.

“You’re unbelievable! What the f**k are you sorry for? For being such a f*****g useless piece of s**t, or being such a burden to everyone around you? You’re just a nobody, pretending to fit in. For f**k’s sake…”

But the rest of the words made no sense to Ankit. Was he a burden? He had always tried to not be an imposition on others and their lives. He would always be eternally grateful to Feroze for being there for him, when no one else was, and he knew that he could never repay her no matter what. His life would always be in debt. He had always tried so hard to be useful, to not be a burden, but the spiteful words that were being hurled at him ripped him apart and placed right in the middle of all his insecurities.

“You- you don’t know anything about me,” he said, glad that his voice did not wobble too much. He would never live down showing his vulnerability in front of one that had no regard for him. He could not give him that satisfaction. He had tried so hard, for so many years to love himself, to be comfortable with who he was, his own peculiarities, and ‘ness’, and he would not let some self-entitled prick tear him down. Yet, he could not pretend that it did not hurt. But, he would be alright. He just needed some time.  He needed to get out of here.

He found himself walking away in a daze. In his state, he did not see the stricken look on Matteo’s face, or the way he moved as if to stop him, stopping at the last minute. Ankit saw none of that. He just needed to get out of here. The walls were starting to close in on him.

He could barely hear Damon as he reached out towards him, brushing him off in his rush to get out. For a brief second, he remembered Laura, but he shoved the thought away. He needed to protect himself now. He could not afford to worry about others right now. He would call her tomorrow morning and, yeah.