Chapter 8: Floral Elevation
The world swam back into focus slowly, the city’s lights blurring into distant constellations beyond the dark outline of Arjun’s shoulders. Rohan’s lips still tingled, a phantom warmth that spread through his entire body, making his limbs feel loose and heavy. He became acutely aware of the solid, unyielding strength of the arm still wrapped around him, the only thing keeping him upright.
“Okay,” Rohan breathed out, the word barely audible. He cleared his throat. “Okay. That was… a significantly better move.”
Arjun’s laugh was a low, pleased sound that vibrated through Rohan’s chest. “Told you I had a plan.” He finally, reluctantly, loosened his hold, allowing Rohan to find his footing on the rough tiles. Rohan’s legs felt unsteady, like he’d just stepped off a boat onto solid land. He adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit, his fingers brushing against his still-warm lips.
“The plan involved potential defenestration,” Rohan muttered, but he was smiling, a real, unguarded smile that made his face feel strange. “You carried me up a flight of stairs.”
“Four flights, actually. And you’re still lighter than my gym bag.” Arjun’s grin was infectious. He reached out, not for a kiss, but to gently pluck at the collar of Rohan’s shirt. “C’mon. The night’s not over.”
He led Rohan away from the central expanse, toward a corner of the rooftop shrouded in shadow. It was only as they drew closer that Rohan saw it—a thick, living curtain of ivy covering a section of the wall. Arjun pushed it aside to reveal a wrought-iron gate, and beyond it, the mouth of a private elevator.
“You have a key to the penthouse elevator?” Rohan asked, incredulous.
“Perk of knowing the right people,” Arjun said with a wink, producing a keycard from his pocket. “Or, more accurately, of fixing the son of the right person’s blockchain project after he somehow deleted his entire crypto wallet.”
The elevator was silent and smooth, ascending one more floor before opening directly into another world. The rooftop garden was a shock of lush greenery and color after the industrial starkness of the main roof. The air was thick and sweet, saturated with the perfume of night-blooming flowers. Paths of smooth, pale stone wound through dense beds of lavender, roses, and clusters of white jasmine that glowed like tiny stars in the twilight. The city sprawled below them, a breathtaking panorama of light and movement, but up here, it felt hushed, secret.
Arjun didn’t give him much time to take it in. “My turn to show off a different skill set,” he said, and before Rohan could protest, he was being hoisted up again. This time, Arjun maneuvered him onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, his hands firm around Rohan’s thighs.
“Arjun, for God’s sake—” Rohan gasped, clutching at Arjun’s head for balance, his own head now a good foot higher than it usually was.
“Relax, Professor. I’m not gonna drop you.” Arjun’s voice was muffled by Rohan’s shirt, but the amusement was clear. He walked steadily along the path, his gait sure and easy even with Rohan’s weight. “Now you’re at the perfect height.”
“For what? Giving me a concussion on a low-hanging branch?”
“For this.”
Arjun stopped beside a sprawling jasmine vine, its blossoms so plentiful they seemed to drip from the trellis. He reached up, his movements careful and precise, and plucked a single, perfect white flower. He then lifted it, his hand brushing against Rohan’s knee, and gently tucked the stem behind Rohan’s ear. The scent was immediate and intense, a wave of pure, narcotic sweetness.
Rohan froze, the intimate gesture sending a jolt through him that was entirely different from the kiss. This was slower, softer, somehow more devastating.
Arjun plucked another. And then another. He worked methodically, his focus absolute, adorning Rohan’s hair with tiny, fragrant stars. Each touch of his fingers against Rohan’s skin, each brush against his hair, was a tiny spark. Rohan could feel the solid, steady rhythm of Arjun’s breathing, the bunch and release of the powerful muscles in his shoulders and back.
A laugh bubbled up in Rohan’s chest, born of sheer, disbelieving joy. It escaped, light and airy. Below him, he felt Arjun’s body shake with a responding chuckle.
“What?” Arjun asked, his voice warm.
“Nothing,” Rohan said, still laughing softly. “It’s just… you. You’re a paradox. You look like you could punch through a concrete wall, and you’re up here putting flowers in my hair.”
“I have layers,” Arjun said, deftly securing another blossom. “Like an onion. Or a very aggressive, well-muscled parfait.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You’re the one sitting on my shoulders smelling like a boutique hotel.”
Their mingled laughter floated on the warm, jasmine-scented air, weaving into the distant city sounds. For a long moment, they just stayed like that, Arjun standing firm as an oak, Rohan crowned in flowers, suspended between the earth and the sky. The self-consciousness that usually clung to Rohan like a second skin had simply dissolved. Here, in this hidden garden, he felt seen in a way he never had before—not for his intellect, not as the ‘nice guy,’ but just as himself.
Finally, Arjun gave his thigh a soft pat. “Alright, down you come.” He lowered him with the same effortless control, his hands lingering on Rohan’s waist until he was sure he was steady.
Rohan reached up, fingers tracing the delicate petals nestled in his hair. He looked at Arjun, really looked at him—the confident ease, the dark eyes that held a surprising depth of tenderness, the smile that was just for him.
Arjun reached out and carefully adjusted one of the jasmine blossoms. “They suit you,” he said, his voice dropping to that same reverent whisper from before. His gaze flickered from the flowers to Rohan’s eyes, and the air between them shifted again, charged and expectant.
Rohan took a slow breath, the intoxicating scent of jasmine filling his lungs. He let his hand fall from his hair and instead found Arjun’s, his fingers slotting between the other boy’s with a certainty that surprised them both.
“Your room or mine?” Rohan asked, the question hanging in the sweet, dark air between them.