ALMOST US – the silences between us

Arjun Mehra had always lived life at the edges — of classrooms, conversations, and confidence. A 17-year-old boy with headphones always tucked in and a pencil always in hand, Arjun spent most of his time lost in the pages of his sketchbook. His world was lines, color, and the safety of silence. Talking never came easy — not when your thoughts were too heavy for your throat. But if there was one thing — one person — who made the world a little louder, it was Kabir Verma. Kabir was fire and wind — unpredictable and warm. His laugh could light up an entire corridor, and he could talk to anyone without trying. He played football, answered questions even when he didn’t know the answer, and wore that cocky half-smile that made people forget how unsure he actually was inside. He and Arjun met in 9th grade. Kabir had knocked over Arjun’s watercolors by accident in the art room. Instead of laughing or shrugging it off like most boys did, he sat down, helped clean it, and said: “That’s a cool drawing. You ever think about making comics?” That was the first moment Arjun thought: Maybe he sees me. Two years later, they were inseparable. Best friends. Everyone said so. But Arjun knew. The way he waited for Kabir’s texts. The way he noticed how Kabir’s voice softened when talking to him alone. The way his heart twisted when girls giggled around Kabir — this wasn’t friendship. This was something else. And Arjun had no idea what to do with it.