seen from South Korea
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seen from United States
seen from China
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Hey wanted to know whether will you explore more fanfiction from dhurandar apart from hamza uzair. Just wanted to know
well i might..
its not confirmed, and idk if I'll do it anytime soon BUT
i do read a lot of other ships.... so i might just get into writing them too but i m NOT sure abt it....
since hamzair has always been my top priority and i hv never written fanfic before entering this fandom, i think i ll continue writing only hamzair for some time....
where da fics at? yo am i muted 👀
Crudelo - Jaskirat x Uzair
"i had no more agency than a moth to a flame"
DISCLAIMER: This book contains explicit MM content, hurt/comfort and heavy codependency.
CHAPTER - 1 CHAPTER - 2 CHAPTER - 3 CHAPTER - 4 CHAPTER - 5 CHAPTER - 6 CHAPTER -7 CHAPTER - 8 CHAPTER - 9
CHAPTER - 10
Uzair had always been good at compartmentalizing his emotions.
That skill now helped him adjust back to his life in Boston. Overall, it was pretty seamless. He went to work, and he was as efficient at his job as ever. He went to his gym on weekends, to work out and box. He ran every morning before work. Every few weeks, he met up with his friends and visited his parents. On the surface, his life was exactly like his life before the trip to Italy.
What happened below the surface was another matter entirely.
He knew he was still a mess, and to his frustration, he wasn’t getting better. He couldn’t use elevators at all, his claustrophobia worse than it had ever been. He had to keep the door to the bathroom open when he showered. He flinched at every sudden noise. He hated being alone in the dark. He slept only with the lights on.
Not that he was sleeping much. He tossed and turned in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling and longing for a hard body on top of him. It got so bad that he tried to sleep with pillows on top of him, to trick his mind and give himself the pressure he craved. It didn’t work. He was lucky to get some decent sleep once in five nights, when he was too exhausted to crave anything.
Lack of sleep didn’t exactly help his overall mental state. He was cranky, jumpy, and more snappish at work. He’d never exactly been beloved by his subordinates, but now they grew quiet and wary every time he walked past their cubicles.
After one month of this hell, Uzair finally took Raizada up on his offer and let him pay for the services of a therapist.
He deeply regretted it after the very first session. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings. He didn’t want to talk about Jaskirat. He didn’t need a therapist to know how messed-up the whole thing was. He wasn’t an idiot.
But at least the therapist had given him a prescription for sleeping pills to turn his brain off and finally get some sleep. He hated how the pills made him feel: groggy, weak, and somehow even more anxious, but they were the only solution for his insomnia. Uzair tried not to use them too often, not wanting to become dependent on yet another thing, but sometimes it was necessary.
Thankfully, there was some good news too. His landlord offered him an apartment on the third floor once he heard of Uzair’s inability to use elevators. The apartment was twice as large as his old one, which hadn’t been small either, but to his surprise, his landlord didn’t charge him more. Maybe he felt sorry for him. Either way, Uzair decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. This building was really good, and he had been dreading the necessity of looking for another apartment on a lower floor. It was good to see some things going his way for once.
But his good mood after the move didn’t last. The new apartment was completely unfamiliar (unsafe) and only made his discomfort and anxiety worse. He couldn’t stay inside it for a long time, the walls closing in on him no matter how spacious the rooms were. That was how Uzair ended up spending a lot of time outside. He started going for long walks in the evening after work. It made breathing a little easier. And it helped him sleep, a little.
Uzair was walking home through the park that evening when some drunks decided that they had nothing better to do than bother him.
At first Uzair ignored them. He knew the type: a bunch of frat boys, high on alcohol, weed, and their own self-importance, just messing around on a Friday evening, trying to get some tail. If he ignored them and continued walking, they’d leave him alone.
Except they didn’t leave him alone.
“You think you’re too good for us or something?” one of them growled, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to stop.
Uzair sighed inwardly. He wasn’t worried. He could handle himself against three drunks. But he really didn’t feel like breaking his knuckles against those dickheads’ jaws.
But before he could do anything, two burly men in dark clothes materialized seemingly out of nowhere. “Get lost,” one of them said, staring the drunks down. He let his jacket fall open, revealing a gun in his holster.
“Okaaay, dude, whatever,” the frat boy said, letting go of Uzair and stepping back. His friends dragged him away.
Uzair frowned and turned back to the men who’d come to his aid, but they weren’t there anymore. Uzair stared at the empty space they had just been in, his stomach tightening and his heart beating faster.
No.
Surely not.
He wouldn’t do that.
But those men… they seemed like professionals. Normal people wouldn’t slip back into the shadows after helping out someone. They’d say something, wait for thanks. Not just disappear.
Uzair looked around, but the park was dark and quiet. If there were people watching him—following him—they were very, very good.
If.
He could be wrong.
His pulse beating fast in his throat, Uzair continued walking. He couldn’t see or hear people following him. Everything seemed normal.
After a while, he started feeling ridiculous. Maybe he’d imagined the weirdness. Maybe he’d been saved by passersby.
And maybe pigs flew.
Think, Baloch, he told himself, pushing his messy emotions into a box. What are the chances of two random men with guns materializing out of nowhere when you need help and then disappearing as soon as you turn around? Extremely slim.
All right.
He could test it. Every theory should be tested.
Uzair considered his options. The test shouldn’t be done with the same variables. If there were people following him around, he couldn’t let them know that he was aware of it.
So he strolled forward, without looking around. He pulled his phone out and started browsing his messages, pretending to be completely unaware of his surroundings.
He was a block away from his apartment when he decided to act.
Pretending to be engrossed in his phone, he stopped in the middle of the street just as a car came around the corner. The car was coming with too much speed, and the driver honked frantically, but Uzair pretended to be too distracted to hear.
Come on, come on, come on.
Just as he was about to give up—no test was worth his life—someone grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
He quickly turned, his heart in his throat, and found the same guy from before trying to disappear into the crowd.
Well, fuck.
-----
He couldn’t sleep that night. That was nothing unusual, but this time the reason was different. He was shaking with a horrible mix of toxic anger and irrational excitement. He told himself the anger was the prevailing emotion. Who did Jaskirat think he was, putting bodyguards on him without asking Uzair’s opinion when the asshole hadn’t even bothered to come out to say goodbye to him? Arrogant, overbearing dick.
(God, he missed him.)
Allah. It pissed him off that the mere possibility of being followed— stalked—by Jaskirat’s people pleased a part of him. It means that he cares, said a small, stupid voice at the back of his mind, like a little girl hugging her favourite toy to her chest and refusing to see that the toy was a demon, not a cute plushie.
The grown-ass adult that Uzair was wasn’t impressed. He would never move on with his life if Jaskirat had him shadowed and was still constantly on his mind. It had to stop. He might not be able to control his thoughts and fixation, but the unwanted bodyguarding was something he could control. Hopefully.
The problem was, he didn’t have Jaskirat’s number or any other way of contacting him.
Except…
Uzair smiled grimly.
------
He pretended to trip and fall during his morning run. Pretending to have hit his head and fainted, Uzair lay still and waited.
Soon enough, there were the sounds of footsteps and voices.
“Should we call 911?” a guy said, his voice full of doubt. “We aren’t supposed to be seen by him.”
“Fuck, why did it have to happen during our shift?” the other guy grumbled, sighing.
“This gig fucking sucks,” the first man said. “I still don’t get why we’re babysitting this guy. It’s so random. He’s not interesting at all.”
Uzair tried not to take offense. By gangsters’ standards, he probably was very boring.
“At least the money is good.”
One of them nudged him with his shoe. “Hey, you. Wake up.”
“Let’s just call 911. What if he dies? The boss said this gig is important, comes from somewhere very high up.”
“Do you know who?”
“Nah, no idea. But between you and me, the boss seemed scared shitless. He stressed several times that a failure isn’t acceptable. Just call 911 before he dies.”
Figuring he wouldn’t learn more than that, Uzair turned onto his back and sat up.
The two men—they weren’t the same men from yesterday—flinched and exchanged a look.
“You okay?” one of them said, clearly hoping to pass for a random passerby. “Saw you trip and fall.”
Uzair pulled out the envelope he’d prepared beforehand and smiled. “I’m fine. But you guys wouldn’t mind passing this to your boss’s boss?” He pretended not to notice the nervous look they exchanged. He paused, thinking. He doubted Jaskirat personally dealt with these guys’ boss. “Or maybe even to your boss’s boss’s boss. Basically, pass this to the man who hired you to ‘babysit’ me.” His smile turned sweeter when they paled. “Be fast, and no peeking. You wouldn’t want to upset the guy who has your boss scared shitless, right?”
After a moment that seemed to stretch forever, one of the men finally spoke.
“All right,” he said, taking the envelope carefully, as if it were poisonous. “We’ll pass it along.”
Uzair smiled. “Thanks. Carry on.”
They disappeared so fast Uzair felt a pang of admiration. For such big guys, they were really fast. At least Jaskirat hadn’t hired incompetents.
He wondered how long it would take before the message reached Jaskirat. Knowing Jaskirat’s general paranoia, it would probably pass through the hands of at least four middlemen before reaching him. Uzair had little doubt it would be read by someone along the way, but he wasn’t worried. He hadn’t written anything incriminating.
The message just said,
Stop.
-----
If Uzair were honest with himself, he didn’t really think his message would make Jaskirat stop.
If he were even more honest with himself, sending that little message made him feel more normal than he’d felt in months. That little message was a connection to something he’d hungered for against his better judgment. No matter how small, it made him feel better, his mind sharper and less of a mess.
Days passed.
Then a week.
And yet nothing happened. If he was still being followed around, his new bodyguards were very good at staying hidden.
Could it be possible that Jaskirat had actually listened to his request?
It pissed Uzair off that he was sulking over it, instead of being pleased. He was behaving like a teenager with his first crush, instead of the grown, successful man he was. And over whom? A man, when he wasn’t even bi! The whole thing was so ridiculous Uzair wanted to laugh at himself—if he hadn’t felt like punching something.
He returned home that evening in a shitty mood. It was the sort of day when everything that could go wrong went wrong: after yet another sleepless night, he’d fallen asleep at dawn and overslept, there hadn’t been time to have breakfast, so he was hungry and cranky without his morning coffee; Raizada had been more of a bastard than usual and given his department an impossible deadline; Uzair’s secretary told him that she was quitting; someone had accidentally locked up Uzair in a restroom and he’d had a massive panic attack, and then had to pretend that he was fine because he was at work and people expected nothing short of perfection from him.
By the time Uzair arrived home, he felt like crawling into his bed and never leaving it.
Except when he unlocked his door, there was light in his living room.
And there was a tall, dark-haired man standing by the open window, smoking out of it.
Uzair’s heart jumped somewhere to his throat. He dropped his briefcase with a thud and shut the door with shaking hands. His whole body was taut as a bowstring, his nails digging deep crescents into his palms. “Didn’t I tell you not to smoke indoors?”
The man turned, the cigarette between his long fingers.
“I opened the window,” Jaskirat said, his green eyes giving nothing away.
Smoking is bad for you, Uzair nearly said. He had to bite his tongue. Jaskirat wasn’t his to fret over. He was no one to him.
“Aren’t you afraid someone might shoot you while you stand there? You probably make a very easy target.”
Jaskirat took a long drag from his cigarette. He looked mouth-wateringly attractive, his sharp, angular face so striking it made Uzair’s fingers itch to draw him or take a picture. Distantly, Uzair was exasperated with himself. Why this man? If he had to find a man attractive, why did it have to be this one? The worst possible choice?
“I bought the building opposite this one,” Jaskirat said. “It’s secure now.”
Uzair looked at the skyscraper visible in the window and nearly laughed. “Right. Of course you did.” Shaking his head, he loosened his tie and pulled it off. “Look, I’ve had a spectacularly shitty day. Just tell me why you’re here and go. I have a hot date with my pillow I really don’t want to miss.”
Jaskirat eyed him for a moment before stubbing his cigarette out on the windowsill. “You look terrible, caro(beloved).”
Something lodged in his throat. “Thanks.”
“You haven’t slept in days,” Jaskirat stated, walking toward him and stopping just a few inches away.
Uzair’s heart was attempting to escape from his chest, or at least it felt like it. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his suit jacket, so that he couldn’t reach out for this man greedily. He wanted to reach out and touch, trace his stubbled jawline, his neck, his everything. He wanted to taste his skin, hot and salty, smell him.
“Don’t tell me you have people stalking me in my sleep and reporting to you how much sleep I get,” Uzair said with as much bite as he could manage. It wasn’t a lot. His body was instinctively leaning forward, needing, and it was maddeningly difficult not to just fall into this man and cling to him with all his strength.
“I don’t need to have you stalked for that,” Jaskirat said, his nostrils flaring as his eyes roamed all over Uzair’s face. “You do look terrible. Too pale. Sickly. Almost plain.”
“Oh, wow,” Uzair said with a laugh. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
Jaskirat’s face did something strange: a tight, pinched look, his eyes all pissy and angry, before he stepped forward and shoved his face into Uzair’s neck.
The punched-out noise that left Uzair’s mouth didn’t even sound like him, his eyes closing and his hands gripping, roaming all over Jaskirat’s back greedily before burying in his thick, gorgeous hair. It was like the rest of the world simply faded into nothing, put on mute or something.
Teeth bit him on his neck so hard Uzair cried out from the familiar, exquisite pain-pleasure. “Easy there, asshole,” he gasped out, clutching him close, clinging to his firm, sturdy body, trying to tug him tighter, closer. The fabric separating their skin pissed him off, so he yanked at Jaskirat’s shirt, buttons flying everywhere. Finally, the stupid thing was off and there was so much skin he could touch: warm, glorious skin covering the familiar, smooth muscles.
Jaskirat ignored his words, sucking dark hickeys all over his neck, his confident hands making quick work of the buttons of Uzair’s shirt. Uzair was shaking, whines leaving his mouth—such an embarrassing sound, but he couldn’t seem to stop, needing him so fucking badly. He wanted to be naked with him. He wanted to be fused to him.
They stumbled into Uzair’s bed half-naked already, and Uzair moaned in delight as Jaskirat pressed him into it with his body, his weight so familiar, comforting, and achingly good. It felt so right: the weight, the pressure, the smell, the man. He missed this so badly.
His cock was hard, Uzair realized distantly. In any other circumstances, with a different man, it would have surprised him. But of course his cock was hard now. He craved this man with every cell of his body. Of course it would manifest as a physical want, too. It didn’t even feel all that strange to him. If there was a man who could make him want, it was this one. The mere thought of being naked with Jaskirat and feeling all of his skin against his own made him shiver, his nipples tingling. He wanted it. He wanted him so badly. He wanted to eat Jaskirat alive, swallow him whole, consume him in ways that weren’t even possible.
As if sensing his needs, Jaskirat moved his head lower, his hot mouth sucking hard hickeys down his neck, his pec, before biting the hard nipple. Uzair moaned, and then moaned louder when Jaskirat pressed his tongue against it, licking the nipple lewdly, and then sucking. Uzair nearly came, right there.
He wrapped his legs around Jaskirat, seeking friction, some relief for his stiff, aching cock. He could feel Jaskirat’s erection against his thigh, and it gave him such a rush. He made it happen. Jaskirat was hard for him. He needed to see his cock. He needed to touch it. He needed it in his mouth.
Uzair fumbled between them, trying to get Jaskirat’s belt open and failing—his fingers were shaking too badly.
The other man huffed and, knocking his hands away, made quick work of his belt and zipper. “Get naked,” Jaskirat commanded.
After much fumbling, Uzair got naked, somehow. The whole thing was complicated by his inability to be parted from Jaskirat even for a few seconds, their bodies grinding even as they undressed.
Finally, they both were naked, and it felt beyond glorious, to feel so much skin. Uzair’s head was spinning and he was making low, shameless noises as he clung to the man on top of him. They rutted together like animals, Jaskirat’s teeth in his neck, his body heavy and perfect on top of him. There was no rhythm or finesse to it, it was every man for himself, seeking release from the maddening tension. There, almost there—
Jaskirat suddenly shoved Uzair’s thighs upward, pressing them together to create friction for his cock between them. God, Jaskirat was fucking his thighs, using him as a cock-sleeve to get off. It should have felt humiliating or mortifying, but all it did was turn Uzair on. He clung to Jaskirat’s back with hitching mewls, feeling powerful muscle ripple underneath smooth skin with the rolling rhythm of Jaskirat’s hips fucking his thighs, the bed creaking ominously, but not loud enough to mask Uzair’s moans. So good—so fucking good…
Uzair grabbed his own weeping cock and jacked off, fast and needy, and much too soon, he was coming all over his hand with a sob.
Jaskirat fucked him through his orgasm, though his own, each buck messier and shakier than the last until he finally went boneless on top of him, breathing hard, his weight crushing. Uzair couldn’t breathe under him, but he didn’t care. It was perfect. Everything was perfect. Even the mess on his thighs felt perfect. He was covered in Jaskirat’s come. As it should be.
As it should be.
And yet.
It still wasn’t enough. It was so weird. Although he felt physically spent after his orgasm, Uzair still didn’t feel satisfied, somehow still wanting more. He ran greedy hands over the expanse of Jaskirat’s back, revelling in smooth skin and muscle.
“You don’t have scars,” he murmured. “I thought there would be scars for sure.”
“There were,” Jaskirat said into his neck. “I’ve had them removed.”
Uzair considered joking about his vanity, but he knew it wasn’t really about vanity at all. It was about the illusion of infallible strength. Scars would show that Jaskirat had been vulnerable. Weak.
This man couldn’t afford to have weaknesses. Any weaknesses.
“You should go,” Uzair said, looking at the ceiling.
“Yes,” Jaskirat said, sucking on the tender bruise on his neck.
Uzair bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from making any embarrassing noises. “Stop that. I can’t go to work looking like I’ve been mauled by a vampire. I’m a department head. People are supposed to respect me.”
“A few bruises won’t make them respect you less,” Jaskirat said, but he did stop nibbling on his neck and lifted himself on an elbow to look down at him.
Uzair felt his chest tighten as their gazes met. “You shouldn’t have come.”
“You shouldn’t have sent for me, then.”
Uzair glared at him. “I didn’t—”
“Let’s cut the bullshit, caro (darling)” Jaskirat said, his tone mild but his gaze almost resentful. “We both know your little message was a cry for attention. You knew I wouldn’t ignore it. You knew I’d come to see you.”
Uzair’s face was burning with humiliation. “You didn’t have to come. I hardly forced you.”
The laugh that left Jaskirat’s throat lacked true mirth. “I had no more agency than a moth that flies to a flame.”
Right. How was he supposed to take that?
“I didn’t make you put your guard dogs on me,” Uzair ground out.
Jaskirat averted his gaze. “That was just a precaution. I wanted to make sure you didn’t become someone of interest.”
Uzair laughed. “Yeah, and putting bodyguards on me 24/7 didn’t make me someone of interest. Great logic.” He buried his fingers in Jaskirat’s hair and yanked slightly, forcing him to look at him. “As you say, let’s cut the bullshit. You did it because you’re an emotionally stunted control freak who got a little bit attached and doesn’t know how to express his affections in a healthy way.”
“I’ve killed people for less,” Jaskirat said, his tone very mild but his expression tight.
Chuckling, Uzair pulled his head down and pecked him on his cheek. “Is that supposed to intimidate me? You never scared me.”
Jaskirat inhaled unsteadily. “Why didn’t you tell Reyaansh that I killed Garve?”
Uzair licked his lips. There were so many ways to answer that question.
But he couldn’t lie. Not to this man.
“You know why,” he said, closing his eyes.
“Say it,” Jaskirat said hoarsely, his teeth grazing Uzair’s jawline.
Uzair shivered. More. “He paid me $180,000 to pretend to be his boyfriend and help him figure out who was behind the assassination attempts. I did what he paid me for. I owed him nothing more. Loyalty can’t be bought. And mine belonged to you, not him.”
Jaskirat kissed his neck, his hand gripping Uzair’s side almost painfully. “You’re smarter than that. No one trusts me, caro.”
“I do.” The terrifying part was how little he cared about Jaskirat’s faults. He’d always considered himself a pretty good person, but lately he had to reevaluate that opinion. A good person wouldn’t adore a man who was capable of killing in cold blood—who had killed someone in front of him.
Jaskirat pressed their foreheads together, his breath warm against Uzair’s cheek.
He didn’t say anything for a long time, breathing unsteadily.
“I can’t stand this,” he said at last, his voice barely audible. “I hate the way you got me all twisted up and irrational. This is not me.” He sucked hard on Uzair’s jawline. “You’re right: giving you bodyguards was irrational. But it was something I could control. Knowing how you’re doing. It helped, a little.”
Uzair’s eyes burned. God, they both were so fucked-up.
He hugged Jaskirat tightly, pulling his weight fully on top of him again. He loved it, he hated it, he hated this feeling so much. How could something feel so good, so perfect, and yet leave him feeling so empty? Missing someone who had never been his, who was still right there, was its own special kind of hell.
“Stay,” he said in a disgustingly small voice. “Just for tonight?”
It seemed to take ages before Jaskirat replied.
“All right.” He put his head on Uzair’s pillow, his body still on top of him and their faces inches apart.
His throat uncomfortably tight, Uzair traced Jaskirat’s features with a finger, trying to imprint them into memory.
Jaskirat allowed him, just watching him with an intense, fixated expression, the intimacy of the moment gut-wrenching. He’d never felt closer to another person in his life. He’d never wanted to be even closer. Was there a way to be closer? If there was, Uzair wanted it. He couldn’t get enough. He would bottle up this man’s scent if he could. He would spend the rest of his life in this bed with him if he could.
But he couldn’t.
He knew Jaskirat wouldn’t return. He wasn’t the sort of man to indulge his weaknesses. He would quash any unwanted emotions until there was nothing left.
This was the last time he’d ever see him.
“Don’t cry,” Jaskirat said tersely, a muscle jumping by his temple. “It’s not worth crying over.”
I’m not worth crying over.
“I’m not crying,” Uzair said, blinking the moisture away.
Jaskirat cradled his cheek carefully, wiping the tear by the corner of Uzair’s right eye with the pad of his thumb, his touch ever so gentle. The gentleness of it made Uzair’s throat close up.
Jaskirat stared at the tear in strange fascination as if he’d never seen tears in his life. “Our paths should have never crossed,” he said tonelessly. “Whatever this is, it’ll pass. You’ll be better off without me.”
“I know,” Uzair whispered. He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against Jaskirat’s. Stay, he wanted to beg. It was his last thought as he drifted off. Stay.
It was the best sleep he’d gotten in months.
When he woke up, the bed was empty.
Jaskirat had slipped out of his bed and his life like he had never been in it.
THANKYOU FOR READING!!!!!!
tags - @savagedrama @aan-4-u @harrystyleskiwi9 @notasamrat @darkdemonriddle666 @lakshana-ke-lakshan @isshaaobbsessedwithbl @ch1ldofthelordannie @aneshb25 @immortalconfluxmuse @hamzair-is-my-otp @gulaabjamun08 @moonligh-t @chickenpilot @manniexo @jadekiddo @hamzakamehroomkurta @sanpiece@bbsmtt @monvitha @janestargirl19 @abolitionistlawpluscoffee
Does anyone still think about Murder 2? 🥸
I genuinely need someone to talk about this movie with because I feel like there's SO much going on with Arjun's character that the movie doesn't explore enough.
And don't even get me started on Dheeraj. That man still gives me chills.
I also genuinely think Priya deserved to be much more relevant to the actual storyline instead of mostly being separated from the investigation and then becoming Dheeraj's final target.
If anyone loves this movie, PLEASE talk to me. 😭
Dear author ji,
Can we all get a fic on Pritam and Pedro like a yoai based on Pritam x Martin Martin as dom and Pritam as the cute bottom and can we get an old Martin and young Pritam itd be nice and father son relationship between Pedro and Pritam or mother son relationship between Stacey and Pritam like they lost their son Leo and how they gained Pritam so yeah can we get a fic based on this author like this is just a request
hello jiiiii,
while the idea is FANTABULOUS and very much up my reading lane...
i don't rlly.....write about pritam and pedro?
given that i watched the series in haste i still need to re watch it in peace to be happy with it....
thankyou sm for the request and ANYONE out there who wants to use this idea KINDLY TAG ME-
love u anon, and i m rlly sorry for not being able to act on this..
Dhurandhar Incorrect quotes pt.6
Ft. everything and a lot of hamzair <3
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Rehman: i m forgetting something. Hamza: morals probably? Rehman: no. it's something important.
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Iqbal: breathe if you like me. Uzair: take that back, hamza is turning fucking purple.
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Hamza: you're annoying Uzair: but you love me Hamza: doesn't make you less annoying
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Uzair: back when i was a kid- Rehman: so.......yesterday?
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Aslam: can't you ever just give me a break Rehman: should have killed me when u had the chance Aslam: i have regrets...
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Rehmat: do not be fooled by the alleged heterosexuality of this ship, as they are both bisexuals, and per chance, if the sun shines just right, transgender as well-
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Uzair: if you were to die, what would be your last words? Hamza: finally Uzair: nO-
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Rehman: can you hold this for me? Ulfat: that's just your hand- Rehman: yeah
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Ulfat: "i could fix him" good for you i guess. i could be the only thing he is truly afraid of.
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*texting* Uzair: only cause you dot joke he score Hamza: huh? *after 40 minutes* Hamza: whenever you send me a really poorly written text and then don't answer forever, i get worried that you were texting and driving and died while sending it, and that i am going to have to be on a commercial holding a sign that says "only cause you dot joke he score" and tearfully say "my boyfriend died sending me this text. i have no idea what it means."
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Hamza: you'd do that for me? Uzair: oh god. let's use our brains for a second. I'd do ANYTHING for YOU.
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Rehman: if i were a gardener, I'd put our two-lip together. Ulfat: *blushes* aw babe ** Hamza: if i were a gardener, you'd be my hoe. Uzair: Uzair: thanks
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Naieem: i mean, small animals are way more vicious. it's because their anger has less space to be bottled up in. Faizal: that's ridiculous, give me an example of this. Siyahi: spiders Donga: wasps Rizwan: terriers Uzair: Rehman Hamza: Yalina
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Yalina [answering phone]: hello? oh, hi Uzair. yeah he's here, I'll just get him. Yalina [to hamza]: it's your boyfriend. Hamza: he's not my boyfriend. *picks up the phone* Hamza: hey darling.
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Random person: what if your wife was wrong? Rehman: I'd reshape reality to make her right.
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Rehman: when i die my tombstone won't say RIP it would say VIP Hamza: yes because there's a special place reserved for you in hell Rehman: yeah, the throne.
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Faizal: let's get a birthday cake. Naieem: but it's nobody's birthday??? Faizal: the cake won't know. Uzair: you're right. let's get two.
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Hamza: *arrives home 10 minutes late* Uzair: *spins around in a chair* i have been expecting you. Uzair: *chair continues to spin* shit- Uzair: *tries to stop spinning* SHIT- Uzair: *tries to grab onto a lamp* SHIT! Uzair: *falls over* SHIT-!
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Hamzair: a loving relationship between a guy who says "wowza!" and a guy who says "hmm, intriguing."
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Rizwan: let me get this straight- Hamza: nOpe Uzair: nah Ulfat: no 💗 Rehman: nuh uh Aslam: not gonna happen Faizal: ?? Naieem: hm? Iqbal: what? Mir: yeah, uh....no
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Hamza: if karma won't fuck you, i will. Uzair: is that a pick up line or a threat? Hamza: both
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Aslam: you suck. Rehman: not for free.
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Uzair: *drunk* Hamza: come on, let's get you home. Uzair: i am Hamza: ?? Hamza: whAt Uzair: i am with you. Hamza: Hamza: *dies on the inside*
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Hamza: *wearing his mehroom kurta* Uzair: wish i could pull that off.. Hamza: go ahead- Uzair: what Hamza: what
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Uzair: a girl just asked me out. Ulfat: ok free dinner. Uzair: mother, i do not like girls. Ulfat: you like dinner.
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WE GOT A HUNDRED FOLLOWERS YAYYYYYYYYYYY
Crudelo - Jaskirar x Uzair
I adore you
DISCLAIMER: This book contains explicit MM content, hurt/comfort and heavy codependency.
CHAPTER - 1 CHAPTER - 2 CHAPTER - 3 CHAPTER - 4 CHAPTER - 5 CHAPTER - 6 CHAPTER -7 CHAPTER - 8
CHAPTER - 9
Uzair had to shower with the door open.
His chest tight, he watched the water beat down on his body, washing away the grime, sweat, and Jaskirat’s blood.
Uzair would have liked to say that he felt like his old self after the shower, but that would have been a lie. He felt clean, which was a big improvement, but the anxiety and the sense of displacement remained.
The world still didn’t seem real. Everything felt slightly off: the scents, the sounds, the colours.
His spacious room made him feel distinctly uncomfortable: it felt too big and open. Unsafe.
And that was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it?
He felt unsafe, despite being saved.
“Are you all right?” Raizada said stiffly, glancing at Uzair before his eyes returned to his laptop.
“Sure,” Uzair said, dropping his towel and pulling on a T-shirt and shorts. He couldn’t bring himself to care that he was naked in front of his boss. Actually, some embarrassment would have been very welcome. Anything would have been better than this anxiety and sense of wrongness. He kept waiting to finally feel safe—feel normal—but the feeling remained elusive.
“You’re lying,” Raizada stated, his gaze on his laptop. “I will pay for the services of a therapist once we return to Boston. That’s the least I can do. It’s my fault for not waking you up and forcing you to catch a ride with Jaskirat.” He grimaced. “I could sense that something was going to happen, so I figured it would be better if you missed the wedding, but it only messed everything up.”
“You couldn’t have known,” Uzair said tonelessly.
“Still.” Raizada went silent, typing on his laptop. “I bought tickets home for tomorrow. Noon.”
Uzair didn’t say anything. He wanted his boss gone from his room, but he knew Raizada should be here to keep the appearance of a concerned lover reunited with his missing boyfriend.
There was a knock on the door, and Uzair whipped his head toward it.
It was a maid. She brought him food.
Lots of food. Fifteen different dishes.
“This is too much,” Uzair said, eyeing the feast in front of him. He was hungry, but he knew his stomach wouldn’t be able to handle more than some soup after ten days of being half-starved. “You shouldn’t have.”
Raizada frowned. “It’s not me. The cook probably feels bad for you.”
Uzair played with the food listlessly. He forced himself to eat some soup and bread and to drink a few glasses of water.
There was another knock on the door, and Uzair held his breath again.
It was a security guy. He handed Raizada a package.
“This is for you,” Raizada said, turning to Uzair. “A new phone to replace the one you lost.”
Uzair accepted it without a comment.
It was only a matter of minutes to get the phone set up and have his data restored from the cloud. If only his mental state could have been fixed as easily.
He wanted Jaskirat.
Uzair screwed his eyes shut and breathed, trying to erase the thought from his mind.
It didn’t work.
Rationally, he understood that this attachment, this dependency, was born in unnatural circumstances that had nothing to do with their real lives. It was a combination of his desperate need for an anchor when his claustrophobia was driving him crazy, some fucked-up nurse-patient attachment from caring for Jaskirat for days, and the false sense of intimacy caused by the constant physical contact. Now that they were back in the real world, he knew that what he had felt in captivity wasn’t real. As a rational man, Uzair understood that.
It changed very little.
He still thought about him constantly, obsessively, wondering if he was okay, if he got professional medical help. From the rigidly straight way Jaskirat had held himself as he had emerged out of the car, Uzair wouldn’t put it past him not to tough it out in order not to reveal his weakness in front of his underlings. Stubborn ass.
Enough. Stop fixating on him. It’s not real. You should worry about your real loved ones, not about a man you’ve known for less than two weeks.
“How did you keep my family from learning that I was missing?” Uzair said, his gut clenching as he realized how bad it would have been if they found out about it. After what happened to Naieem, his parents might not have recovered from a second blow like that. “I was supposed to return home a week ago.”
Raizada’s brows furrowed. “I’m aware of what happened to your brother, so I was hesitant about contacting your parents and upsetting them prematurely. I told Raj to message your mother and tell her you loved Italy so much that you decided to extend your stay. Maybe we should have told them the truth, but I was reasonably sure you would be ransomed—”
“No, I’m glad you didn’t tell them. My parents would have just worried needlessly.”
Silence fell.
“Do you know what he did to Garve?” Raizada said.
Uzair froze. “What do you mean?” he said, without looking at him. “Garve disappeared. He isn’t answering calls and his people have no idea where he is. It can’t be a coincidence that Jaskirat returned just as Garve disappeared.”
Uzair stared at his phone’s screen unseeingly. “What makes you think I would know anything?”
He could feel Raizada’s heavy gaze on him. “You’re right. Forget it.”
Guilt churned in his gut.
The worst part was, he felt guilty only about not telling Raizada the truth—he had been brought to Italy to help him, after all. But he didn’t feel much of anything about the cold-blooded murder he’d witnessed. Garve was a two-faced asshole who had betrayed and tortured Jaskirat for days. He was hardly an innocent bystander. Still. Shouldn’t he feel more disturbed by what he’d seen? He definitely shouldn’t have been worrying about the murderer.
Uzair cleared his throat a little. “It wasn’t Jaskirat behind the attacks on you and Raj.”
Raizada bored his eyes into him. “And how do you know that?”
“He told me.”
“He told you.” Raizada couldn’t have sounded more sceptical and pitying if he tried.
Uzair glared at his food. “I know what you’re thinking. But that’s why you brought me here: to observe and help you find the traitor. So you’ll have to trust my observational skills, sir. He wasn’t lying when he told me that. It wasn’t him.”
Raizada said nothing, but Uzair could feel his assessing, curious gaze on him for the rest of the evening.
Whatever. He’d kept his part of the deal. If Raizada didn’t believe him, it was his problem.
“I will sleep on the couch,” Raizada informed him, insufferably bossy, as always.
Uzair shrugged and got into the bed.
He closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of another person preparing for sleep.
Then the lights were turned off and the room went dark.
Uzair breathed deeply, trying to turn his brain off and fall asleep. He counted sheep. He tried to empty his mind and think of nothing. He used every tactic he knew of.
It didn’t work.
Raizada’s breathing soon evened out, but Uzair couldn’t say the same about his own. Little by little, his panic increased. The bed was so soft. So big. The room was too warm. He felt so alone. Unprotected. Unsafe.
Snap out of it, he told himself, irritated. The bed was fine. The room was fine. He wasn’t alone. He was fine.
He wasn’t fine.
He was trembling. He knew rationally that he was safe, that he wasn’t in that cellar anymore, but his heart was beating too fast, his palms sweaty.
He wanted Jaskirat.
He wanted to sleep with Jaskirat. Wanted to smell him, to hear his voice. To have him on top of him, feel the reassuring weight of his muscular body crushing him, making him feel safe. Everything in him ached for it, for his closeness.
Uzair had no idea how much time passed before he finally lost the battle with himself.
He got out of the bed and left the room, his bare feet padding on the cold marble floor.
The corridor was dark. And narrow. Was it always so narrow or was he imagining it? Fuck, he hated this. Hated how shaky and unsure he felt. This wasn’t him. He was a grown, competent, self-assured man, not this mess.
But all the self-hatred and mortification in his gut weren’t enough to make him return to his room.
He had only a vague idea about the location of Jaskirat’s room, but the villa wasn’t enormous or anything: there were probably just ten bedrooms on this floor and apparently most of the family had already left.
He found the right bedroom on his fourth attempt. He knew it was the right one from the moment he stepped into it. It smelled right. Not that it had a strong smell or anything—not at all. But something about the combination of man and expensive cologne reminded him of how Jaskirat smelled the first day of their captivity, before the waterboarding.
The scent alone made something inside him ease.
Uzair walked toward the bed and stared at the man sleeping in it.
It was pretty dark. The room was illuminated only by the pale moonlight. But he would’ve recognized this man half-blind, the shape of him, the way the shadows seemed to envelop him gently, accentuating his sharp, angular features and strong, clean-shaven jaw.
Rationally, Uzair knew that this was a very dangerous, cold-hearted man. But he felt like safety to him, no matter how irrational it was.
Jaskirat was lying on his side, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. Uzair could see that the bruises on his ribs had been treated, and when he stepped closer and craned his neck, he saw that Jaskirat’s back had some kind of bandages.
Thank fuck. At least he’d gotten medical help somewhere. Uzair tried to ignore the crazy, idiotic part of him that wondered obsessively who Jaskirat had trusted enough to reveal his weakened state to. Who, who, who?
Quashing those bizarre, ridiculous thoughts, Uzair climbed into the bed and stretched out, facing Jaskirat.
He breathed deeply, his muscles relaxing and all the remaining anxiety leaving his body.
Jaskirat murmured something in Italian and threw his arm over Uzair, hauling him close and stretching half on top of him in his customary position. Uzair smiled sleepily, feeling a rush of unbearable affection. For a man who didn’t cuddle Jaskirat sure had his favourite way of doing so.
He was still smiling as he fell asleep, feeling perfectly content with the world.
-------------
He wasn’t sure what woke him up. The comforting feeling of being crushed under Jaskirat’s weight was still there, and he felt safe and marvellous and sleepy, but…
He could feel someone watching him.
Uzair opened his eyes blearily and made a questioning sound.
“What are you doing here?” Jaskirat said.
Yawning, Uzair peered at him. The room was brighter, so it was probably around dawn, and he could see Jaskirat’s face fairly well.
Not that it helped him read him: his face was absolutely blank, only his eyes watching Uzair intently.
“I…” Uzair licked his lips, feeling awake enough to feel awkward. “I can go if you don’t want me here.”
Jaskirat didn’t move, still watching him like a hawk. “How long have you been here?” he said, and there was something like bemusement in his voice now.
“I have no idea,” Uzair said, rubbing at his eyes. “Probably three, four hours? Maybe more?”
Jaskirat’s expression became faintly pinched. “Impossible. I sleep light. I should have woken up the moment you approached the bed, much less…” He looked at the way their bodies were entangled with a tight look in his eyes.
Uzair reached up and stroked his dark hair gently. It was so soft and thick when it was clean. “You must have gotten so used to sleeping with me that your body subconsciously didn’t consider me a threat.”
Jaskirat didn’t exactly look reassured by that. “You can’t be here,” he bit off, even though he was leaning into the touch. “Why are you here?”
“Do you want me to go?” Uzair said, feeling a rush of fondness mixed with amusement. It was like petting a wild, dangerous cat that leaned into his touch even as it bared its teeth at him menacingly.
“Why are you here?” Jaskirat said again, ignoring his question—or refusing to answer it.
Uzair buried his other hand in Jaskirat’s hair. “I couldn’t sleep without you,” he answered with a rueful smile. “I guess you aren’t the only one whose body got used to certain things.”
Jaskirat’s throat worked.
“Are you under the impression that this is what I do normally?” he said in a clipped voice. “I don’t cuddle. Much less with my stepbrother’s boyfriend.”
Carding his fingers through his hair, Uzair murmured, “I don’t do this normally, either. I’m not—I’m not this needy normally. The whole thing fucked us up. I’m sure it’ll pass. We just need time.”
Jaskirat’s lips pressed together. He opened his mouth, staring at Uzair weirdly, but then closed it without saying anything. He sighed, tucking his face into the crook of Uzair’s neck. “Fine. Just for tonight.” A pause. “You’re returning home soon, right?”
“Tomorrow,” Uzair said, his stomach clenching at the thought. It was good. Being an ocean away sounded like a good way to get rid of this clinginess.
Jaskirat bit him on his neck, then sucked, and a small sound left Uzair’s mouth.
I adore you, came an unbidden thought, his throat closing up from the intensity of the emotion. What the fuck. He couldn’t adore him. He would go home tomorrow, and they would never see each other again, would go on with their lives an ocean apart. He hated the thought, and he hated the way it made him feel: panicky and desperate, as if he were back in the cellar without Jaskirat. He didn’t want to say goodbye, not like this, not yet. Uzair wanted—needed—more of him.
He pressed Jaskirat’s face harder against his neck, silently asking for more bites. For more marks.
Jaskirat obliged, sucking hard all over his neck, his firm, hard body wonderfully heavy and grounding on top of him.
Uzair panted, feeling like he could expire from sheer pleasure and desperation. He’d never needed anyone this much. He roamed his greedy hands all over Jaskirat’s hair, his shoulders, his smooth, muscular arms, hating that he couldn’t touch his back, hating that he couldn’t even hold him properly. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted—he wanted… He wanted to take him inside his body, feel him on the deepest possible level.
“Let me suck your cock,” he blurted out as he realized what he wanted. Taking a part of Jaskirat’s body into his own, giving him pleasure, feeling him from the inside… it had a twisted, messed-up appeal that had nothing to do with him liking to suck cock on occasion. It wasn’t about sex. He just needed him closer. Needed an outlet for the needy, messy feeling in his chest. “Give me your cock.”
Jaskirat was very still on top of him, his body rigid with tension. “I’m not gay,” he said after a moment, but Uzair could feel him twitch against his thigh, hardening.
“Who cares?” Uzair said, slipping his hand between them and palming Jaskirat’s cock through his boxer-briefs before pulling it out. It was gratifyingly half-hard already and quickly grew to full hardness at his touch. “Maybe it’ll help—fix us. Come on. Let me suck it.”
Jaskirat was breathing harshly into his neck, his cock hot and throbbing in Uzair’s hand. “What about Reyaansh?” he gritted out, his teeth sinking into his neck again. His voice became nasty as he said, “Your boyfriend?”
Uzair shivered, giving him better access. He hoped there would be marks. “Don’t want him. Want you.”
Jaskirat let out an unsteady breath and didn’t say anything for a while. Uzair was fine with it, stroking Jaskirat’s cock and enjoying how warm, thick, and firm it was in his hand.
“Fine,” Jaskirat said at last, sitting up. The corners of his mouth were tight, unhappy, as if his cock wasn’t rock hard. “Get on the floor.”
If it were any other man, Uzair would have told him to fuck off. Male bodies or faces didn't do anything for him. Uzair had never cared about pleasing the man the cock belonged to, much less obeying him. It had always been about his own fun, not the other man's.
But it wasn’t just any other man.
Part of him despised how much he needed this, needed this cold-hearted man, wanted to please him, make him feel good, but maybe it was okay. It was just for tonight, so it was okay. Just for this one night, he could get on his knees in front of this man, ignore the cold marble against his knees, the discomfort and confusion, and let Jaskirat feed him his cock.
He moaned around it, trying to take it all, trying to get him as deep inside him as he could, embarrassingly eager in a way he’d never been about blowjobs. Jaskirat’s fingers tightened in his hair to the point of pain.
Jaskirat was eerily quiet as he fucked Uzair’s mouth, only the unsteadiness of his breathing betraying his pleasure. When Uzair looked up at him, he saw his green eyes watching him, transfixed, as his cock thrusted in and out of Uzair’s mouth.
Uzair let him, let him use him, just taking it, and loving every second of it. He loved the way his lips were stretched wide to accommodate the girth of Jaskirat’s cock, the way the friction stimulated his sensitive mouth, the taste. He moaned around the cock, unable to get enough, wanting to milk it dry. He craved Jaskirat’s come, he realized with baffled embarrassment. He wanted his stomach to be full of it, have proof of pleasing Jaskirat and making him feel good. The thought appealed to him immensely: to have Jaskirat’s bodily fluids deep inside him. Like a branding. A branding only they would know about. A tiny part of Jaskirat inside his body, invisible but there.
Fuck, it was a good thing he was leaving tomorrow and he’d never see this man again.
But instead of comforting him, the thought only made him more desperate. He bobbed his head, roughly fucking his mouth on Jaskirat’s leaking cock, hungry, so very hungry.
Come in me, come in me, come in me.
A quiet groan finally left Jaskirat’s lips as he thrusted hard and came deep in his throat.
Uzair coughed but swallowed greedily, the craving in him finally satisfied. He was full of Jaskirat’s come. He had given him pleasure.
Except when he lifted his half-drunk gaze back to him, Jaskirat didn’t look like a man who had just been thoroughly pleasured. His face was stony and he was looking at Uzair like he was a moment away from pulling out his gun and shooting him.
Uzair blinked, unconcerned, and let the cock slip out of his mouth. “Jaskirat?” he said, leaning his cheek against Jaskirat’s muscular thigh and breathing. His voice sounded absolutely wrecked. He didn’t mind.
Jaskirat stared at him for a long moment.
“Get back in the bed,” he said at last, fixing his gaze on the opposite wall. “It’s still early.”
Uzair did as he was told, stretching out on his back. He was hard, but there was no real urgency. It hadn’t been about sex. It had been pure need, the craving to have this man inside him, and it had been satisfied. But now he wanted cuddles.
He got what he wanted: Jaskirat yanked his boxer-briefs up and lay down on top of him. He buried his face in Uzair’s neck again and breathed, his breaths too deep to be natural.
Uzair closed his eyes, threading his fingers through Jaskirat’s hair, and fell asleep.
-----------
A sudden jolt woke Uzair up.
For a moment, he felt disoriented, but then his sleepy gaze focused on the man standing by the bed, looking at them.
Reyaansh Raizada.
Flushing, Uzair scrambled into a sitting position. He looked sideways at Jaskirat, who was already seated, leaning back against the pillows in a manner that would have seemed lazy if it weren’t for the hard glint in his eyes.
Oh, and the fact that there was a gun in his hand.
He wasn’t aiming it at Raizada, thank fuck, but it wasn’t very reassuring, considering what a fast shot he was. Uzair had no idea where Jaskirat had even gotten the gun from so fast. Did he sleep with a gun under his pillow?
The thought made his stomach clench. It seemed he was really lucky that Jaskirat’s subconscious had gotten used to him so much that his body didn’t react when Uzair climbed into the bed.
“Get out,” Jaskirat said, looking at Reyaansh coldly. “You know how much I hate to have my sleep interrupted.”
Raizada’s lips thinned. If the gun unnerved him, he didn’t show it. “You have some nerve. I won’t leave without him.”
Jaskirat smiled, his Light Green eyes glinting with something ugly. “Are you saying you’re jealous? Don’t be a hypocrite, Reyaansh. Should I tell your boyfriend about the fuck-toy you have on the side?”
Fuck.
Uzair exchanged a look with his boss, and quickly made a decision. There was no point in lying anymore. Raizada might not believe him, but Uzair knew it wasn’t Jaskirat who had been trying to kill him. There was no reason not to tell him the truth.
“All right, that’s enough,” he said, pulling the gun out of Jaskirat’s hand. “Give me that.”
Jaskirat shot him a sour look but let him take the gun. Raizada stared at them like they both had grown seconds heads overnight. In any other circumstances, Uzair would have laughed. He’d never seen his unflappable boss look so confused.
“First of all, he isn’t my boyfriend,” Uzair said. “He’s my boss. He paid me to take his boyfriend’s place on this trip, because he was concerned for Raj’s safety and we look similar enough.” He held Jaskirat’s gaze steadily. “My real name is Uzair. Uzair Jan Baloch. I couldn’t tell you the truth until we knew for sure that you weren’t behind the assassination attempts on Reyaansh and Raj.”
“We still know no such thing,” Raizada said with a sigh, but Uzair ignored him, his eyes only on Jaskirat.
There was a very strange expression on Jaskirat’s face, but he couldn’t quite read it. Uzair couldn’t tell what he was feeling—if he was feeling anything at all.
At last, Jaskirat shifted his gaze from Uzair to Raizada. “Did you really think it was me?” he said, his lips twisting in derision. “I had a higher opinion of your intelligence. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Killing you is pointless for me. The only people that would benefit from your death are your blood relatives, who can actually inherit your property. I’m pretty sure it was Garve—he’s the one who needed money the most—so you’re welcome.”
“You killed him?” Raizada said, frowning.
Jaskirat blinked and glanced at Uzair.
His ears uncomfortably warm, Uzair shook his head slightly.
A muscle jumped in Jaskirat’s jaw, something almost like confusion appearing in his eyes, but his face was blank when he looked back at Raizada. “I can neither confirm nor deny it. I can only say that he won’t bother anyone anymore.” He gave his stepbrother a cold look. “Though, it’s possible that the culprit is Pranav or Aarav. I hope you weren’t harbouring the delusion that they liked you. As soon as Arjun died and couldn’t protect you anymore, you were always going to be an easy source for inheritance. If I were you, I’d write a will and tell your dearest cousins that if you die, you’re leaving everything to charity.”
Raizada stared at him searchingly for a moment before nodding. “Uzair, let’s go. Our flight is in a few hours.”
Jaskirat’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even look at him.
His stomach in knots, Uzair got out of the bed and followed his boss out of the room.
The door clicked shut after them.
Raizada remained quiet as they walked toward their rooms. Uzair had trouble looking at him, but he forced himself to. He was a grown man, not a flustered teenager.
“I couldn’t sleep,” he said tersely, hoping he didn’t sound as defensive as he felt.
Raizada eyed him. “Get packed. We’re leaving for the airport in an hour.”
Uzair nodded and went to his room, unsure if he was glad that Raizada had chosen not to comment on the elephant in the room or not. He would have almost welcomed a reprimand. Anything was better than the tight ball of anxiety and dread that curled in his stomach every time he thought of never seeing Jaskirat again.
Having finished packing, he trudged downstairs with his suitcase and sat down on the wooden bench outside.
It was a wonderfully sunny day. The birds were chirping, the bees were buzzing around the flowers, the scent of Italian air was as sweet as it had been upon their arrival.
It was a perfect day.
Uzair tried to feel the perfection of it, but the heavy feeling in his chest didn’t leave room for anything else. He wasn’t sure what the feeling was. He couldn’t name it. It was a mix of sadness, regret, wistfulness, and what-ifs.
His heart jumped when there was the sound of footsteps. He turned his head and told himself he wasn’t disappointed when he saw Raizada approaching him with his suitcase.
Forcing a smile, Uzair got to his feet. “Ready to go?”
He wasn’t sure why he bothered. Raizada’s dark eyes seemed to see right through him. But his boss didn’t comment on it as they put their suitcases into the trunk of the car.
Uzair carefully didn’t look back at the house as he got into the car. He didn’t look in the rearview mirror, either. He knew him. He knew he wouldn’t come out to say goodbye. Even if—if—he cared enough to do it, he wouldn’t want people to see him caring about anyone. He perceived it as a weakness.
“I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess,” Raizada said stiffly as the car rolled away from the villa. He was looking out the window, giving Uzair a semblance of privacy as he put himself together.
“It’s fine,” Uzair said with a laugh. “I’m fine. I’m nearly two hundred thousand dollars richer. I have nothing to complain about.”
He hated how fake his voice sounded. He hated how very far from fine he actually felt. Allah, it was so stupid. He’d known the guy for thirteen days. He shouldn’t have been such a mess when he couldn’t even define what Jaskirat had become to him. Someone not quite a friend and not quite a lover. Someone he loathed, needed, and adored. Someone he understood on an intimate level and didn’t understand at all. Someone who, in different circumstances, in another life, might have become more.
But might have, could have didn’t matter.
His real life waited for him in the U.S.
And there was no place for Jaskirat Singh Rangi in it.
tags - @savagedrama @aan-4-u @harrystyleskiwi9 @notasamrat @darkdemonriddle666 @lakshana-ke-lakshan @isshaaobbsessedwithbl @ch1ldofthelordannie @aneshb25 @immortalconfluxmuse @hamzair-is-my-otp @gulaabjamun08 @moonligh-t @chickenpilot @manniexo @jadekiddo @hamzakamehroomkurta @sanpiece@bbsmtt @monvitha @janestargirl19 @abolitionistlawpluscoffee
THANKYOU FOR READING!!!!
HEYY BBG!! Just manifesting the CRUDELO update tonightttt... LOVE YAH tho :))
I ll try my best gurlieeeeee
💗😁✋🏻
Promises promise... (I m Defo going to update)
