Chapter 8: Becoming Ourselves
367 Words
The fight happened over something small.
A missed call. A left-on-read message. Misunderstood tone.
Kabir accused him of drifting. Arjun snapped back about never feeling good enough.
“I can’t be your secret stress-relief, Kabir,” Arjun said over the phone, voice sharp.
“And I can’t keep chasing you through your silence!” Kabir shouted.
It ended with Kabir hanging up.
They didn’t speak for over two months.
Arjun stopped drawing.
Kabir stopped smiling.
Arjun fainted in the middle of a workshop one afternoon.
Exhaustion, they said. Dehydration. Stress.
His roommate called his parents, who called Kabir.
Kabir dropped everything and took the overnight train to Mumbai.
He waited in the hospital hallway with clenched fists and tear-filled eyes until Arjun woke up.
When he did, the first words he said were:
“You came.”
Kabir nodded. “You’re allowed to fall apart. But not without me.”
Arjun blinked. Then said softly, “I thought we were over.”
Kabir looked at him like he’d never stop.
“We’re not over. We were just… quiet.”
Healing was slow.
They didn’t rush back into “us.”
Instead, they started calling again. Sending voice notes. Sharing bits of their day — even the boring parts.
Kabir started journaling in the mornings. Arjun started drawing again — slowly, imperfectly, but honestly.
They began planning trips to visit each other.
Distance didn’t stop hurting, but it became bearable.
Because now, they were choosing each other again — every day, in small ways.
Arjun finished his final year with an art collection titled "Almost Us". His professors called it “raw and revolutionary.” It was full of soft drawings — two boys on rooftops, fingers barely touching, mouths whispering truths.
Kabir gave his final year speech at his sports college.
He talked about fear. About pressure. And for the first time, he said:
“I spent years trying to be someone I’m not.
But the bravest thing I ever did was love someone quietly and truly.
And I’m done being quiet.”
Some clapped. Some didn’t. But Kabir didn’t care anymore.
He wasn’t speaking for applause. He was speaking for himself — and for Arjun.
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- Writer
