running into kasra after almost a decade of distance wasn’t in hashim’s plans for the day. frankly, it wasn’t in his plans ever. the only thing that was on his schedule was to pick up an order from the local tavern, on behalf of a friend of a friend, for some kind of celebration. the specifics didn’t matter to hashim, especially when kasra was sitting there, with flushed cheeks and golden hair, chatting away with someone hashim was unfamiliar with.
running into kasra after almost a decade of distance wasn’t in hashim’s plans for the day. frankly, it wasn’t in his plans ever. the only thing that was on his schedule was to pick up an order from the local tavern, on behalf of a friend of a friend, for some kind of celebration. the specifics didn’t matter to hashim, especially when kasra was sitting there, with flushed cheeks and golden hair, chatting away with someone hashim was unfamiliar with. he watches as kasra speaks, wild hand gestures to go along with whatever he was saying, unable to hear the words being said over the layers of other conversations happening around him.
he was thrown off balance seeing kasra here, of all places, seemingly without a care in the world. the sight of him made an uncomfortable, long-forgotten feeling stir in hashim’s chest. he refused to assume that kasra didn’t have a care, if what he used to know intimately about the man still rings true. he doesn’t know what he’d do if it didn’t. he doesn’t know what he’ll do now. he still has an order to pick up.
hashim moves from where he was blocking the doorway, even though he does not want to. he heads towards the bar, despite kasra sitting there, despite his own heart lodged in his throat. the bartender turns to him as he approaches, smile on her face, a practiced greeting on the tip of her tongue, “welcome! what can i get for you?”
the breath he takes does nothing to stop his racing heart. he feels terrified to speak when he can hear kasra and kasra can hear him. he’s being foolish, a hopeless lunatic, he knows, but he’s never been able to control his emotions. he’s never been in control of how he feels around kasra, and with the years between them, he’s weaker than ever facing him now.
“i’m here to pick up an order for tigranariya.”
out of the corner of his eye, he can see kasra jolt, hands going still for a brief moment before resuming their motion. hashim wonders if kasra recognized his voice, even after all this time. he tries and fails not to reminisce. if they were near ten years younger, kasra would’ve noticed hashim walk through the door; kasra would’ve been able to tell it was hashim walking up behind him by just the sound of his school shoes under his weight. not anymore.
the bartender checks something behind the counter before walking into the back room.
