Chapter 7: Skybound Confession
Arjun’s grin was a quick, bright flash in the dim room. “My move? I like the sound of that.” Before Rohan could process the meaning, Arjun had swept an arm behind his knees and back, lifting him from the ground as easily as if he were a stack of textbooks.
“Whoa! Arjun, what—the door!” Rohan’s protest was half-laugh, half-genuine alarm as Arjun maneuvered them both through the doorway and into the hall, one-handed, kicking Rohan’s door shut behind them.
“Relax, I’ve got you.” Arjun’s voice was a low rumble against Rohan’s side. He carried him down the corridor, past a pair of wide-eyed freshers who quickly looked away, and began taking the stairs two at a time. The ascent was effortless, the only sound the rhythmic thud of Arjun’s sneakers on the concrete steps and Rohan’s own startled breathing.
Then they were through the heavy fire door and out onto the rooftop. The setting sun hit them like a physical force, washing the world in amber and gold. The air was different up here—cleaner, carrying the distant scent of rain and diesel from the city below. Pigeons cooed from the ledges, and the wind, stronger at this height, immediately tugged at their clothes and hair.
Arjun didn’t put him down. He walked them to the very center of the sprawling red-tiled space, away from the rusted metal ducts and the lone, ancient banyan tree whose leaves whispered secrets in the breeze.
“Okay, you’ve made your point. You can bench press a senior. Very impressive,” Rohan said, his voice tight with a mixture of embarrassment and a thrill he couldn’t suppress.
“That wasn’t the point.” Arjun shifted his grip, his bicep flexing under Rohan’s thighs. Then, in a move that stole the air from Rohan’s lungs, he adjusted his hold, supporting Rohan’s entire weight with one arm wrapped around his back, the other lifting away. He held him aloft, parallel to the ground, as if presenting him to the dying sun.
The world tilted. The horizon line was a dizzying slash of hazy purple and fiery orange. Rohan’s stomach swooped. His glasses slid precariously down his nose. He clutched at Arjun’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the solid muscle there. The wind whipped around them, a cold counterpoint to the heat radiating from Arjun’s body.
Arjun leaned in, his mouth close to Rohan’s ear, his voice barely a whisper that was almost lost to the breeze. “You’re lighter than this.”
The words weren’t a taunt. They were an observation, filled with a kind of wondrous reverence. Before Rohan could form a reply, Arjun was lowering him, not to his feet, but just enough to bring their faces level. The world righted itself, but only just. Rohan’s heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, so loud he was sure Arjun could feel it.
Then Arjun’s free hand came up to cradle his jaw, his thumb gently pushing Rohan’s glasses back into place. The touch was impossibly tender. His eyes, dark and serious, searched Rohan’s for a long moment, asking a silent question.
Rohan gave the smallest of nods, a barely perceptible dip of his chin.
It was all the permission Arjun needed.
He closed the remaining distance, and his lips found Rohan’s.
The kiss was nothing like the brief, shocking press against his throat in the hallway. This was slow. Deliberate. The searing heat of it bloomed from the point of contact, spreading through Rohan’s chest, down to his fingertips, warming him from the inside out against the chill of the wind. He could taste the faint, metallic hint of the rose stem Arjun had held in his teeth, and something else, something uniquely Arjun—spearmint and the clean scent of sun-warmed skin.
Rohan’s hands, which had been gripping Arjun’s shoulders for stability, relaxed. One hand slid up, his fingers tangling in the soft, thick hair at the nape of Arjun’s neck. A quiet, helpless sound escaped him, swallowed by Arjun’s mouth.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together. The city hummed below, a distant, indifferent engine. Up here, on the roof, the universe had shrunk to the space between their bodies.
Arjun’s arm was still a firm band around him, holding him securely. A slow, easy smile spread across his face, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “So,” he said, his voice husky. “Was that a better move than the dip?”
Rohan let out a breathless laugh, the sound shaky but real. He didn’t trust his voice yet. He just tightened his grip on Arjun’s neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads knocked together gently, a silent, unequivocal answer.