Chapter 14

                                    

                                          

As they painted together, the atmosphere subtly shifted. The quiet moments between them felt heavier, but not in an uncomfortable way—there was a strange comfort in the silence, a sense of shared understanding.
Ishan’s brush faltered slightly, and a small streak of paint went off course. “Ah, look at this mess,” he muttered, a little flustered.
Shubman leaned in, their shoulders nearly touching. “It’s not a mess, sir,” he said softly, his voice calm. “It adds character.” He reached out and gently guided Ishan’s hand back to the canvas, helping him correct the stroke. Their hands lingered for a moment, and Ishan felt a warmth spread through him.
“You’re surprisingly good at this,” Ishan said, trying to break the tension with a light laugh.
“I’ve got a good teacher,” Shubman replied with a small smile, his eyes meeting Ishan’s for a second longer than necessary.
Ishan looked away quickly, his heart pounding. Why does he have to say things like that? he thought, but he couldn’t deny the warmth those words brought.
As they continued painting, Shubman dipped his brush into a vibrant color and playfully dabbed a tiny bit of paint on Ishan’s cheek. “Oops,” he said, feigning innocence.
Ishan blinked, surprised. “Shubman!” he exclaimed, but he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. He picked up a bit of paint on his finger and retaliated, lightly smearing it on Shubman’s forehead.
Shubman chuckled, his laughter low and warm. “Now you’ve done it,” he said, and for a moment, they were just two people enjoying each other’s company, their laughter filling the room.
As the playful exchange settled, Ishan found himself relaxing more, his initial nervousness easing. But as Shubman looked at him with that soft, almost fond expression, Ishan felt his heart flutter. He quickly turned back to the canvas, hoping the painting could hide the blush creeping up his face.
As they continued painting, the floor around them became a mess of scattered brushes and little splatters of paint. Ishan, completely engrossed in adding the final touches, took a step back without looking.
“Careful, sir—” Shubman started, but it was too late.
Ishan’s foot slipped on a small puddle of paint, and with a startled gasp, he lost his balance. Before he could hit the ground, Shubman quickly moved to catch him. Ishan tumbled right into Shubman’s arms, their bodies colliding as they both fell backward onto the couch behind them.
For a moment, everything was still. Ishan found himself lying awkwardly on top of Shubman, his hands braced against Shubman’s chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Shubman’s arms instinctively wrapped around Ishan to steady him, his heart racing at the sudden closeness.
Ishan’s eyes widened, his face flushing deeply. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—” he stammered, trying to push himself up, but his hands slipped on the paint smudges on Shubman’s shirt, causing him to fall right back.
Shubman let out a soft laugh, his voice warm and low. “It’s okay, sir. I’ve got you.”
Ishan finally managed to prop himself up, his face mere inches from Shubman’s. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Shubman could hear it. “I’m so clumsy,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact.
Shubman’s gaze softened as he looked up at Ishan, noticing the faint speckles of paint on his cheek and the way his hair had fallen slightly into his eyes. “You’re not clumsy,” Shubman said quietly. “Just…human.”
The sincerity in Shubman’s voice made Ishan’s breath hitch. He looked down, finally meeting Shubman’s eyes, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. Neither of them spoke, the silence filled only with the soft sounds of their breathing and the faint hum of the outside world.