Chapter Seven

Stroll in the park

SAARANSH

 

Brendon’s thick arms brushing mine, the light breeze and night lights make this walk magical. Almost. My fingers itch to hold his hand. These simple touches are luxuries I can’t afford in public. I stuff the idea inside and lock my heart before I lose control. The tension to explain things to him is winding me into a tight spring. I struggle to find words. Brendon breaks the silence.

“I can’t wait to see you on the podium.” He places his hand on my back. The touch is reassuring. “You are a different person on the badminton court.”

“Did someone stalk me at Wembley?” A faint hope flickers. Was Brendon at my match?

“Um, on video.” From the side angle, Brendon’s sly smile is adorable.

Rising on my toes, I land a quick peck on his cheeks. “Yup, when I am on the court, I am in another realm. A world in my control. I am the king of my court. My racket is my sword, ready to fight at my command. In two days, I will be gunning for gold.”

Brendon stares at me and squeezes my arm. “Is there a twin brother I should know about? Where is the humble and shy guy I met at the pub?”

I cross my arms and glare at him. “No twin. I am one of my kind. With my game, I am not shy. I take pride in my wins and consider the losses as wounds of war. I cherish them as much as the trophies on the shelf. My dream is to be the best and for the world to acknowledge me as the best. If history happens along the way, I won’t mind.”

The horn of a car passing by interrupts my rambling. I halt and take Brendon’s hand. “Listen, I should first apologize for walking out the other night. I acted like an idiot.”

“I am not complaining.” Brendon winks, but his blink is not fast enough to hide the hurt.

He takes my hand and rubs his thumb on my palm. The gesture is gentle and sends sparks through my body, reminding me of our first night. The craving increases. Brendon reads the desire in my eyes and pulls me in his arms. By habit, I scan our surroundings, fearful of any people around who may see us. We are on a deserted street. The streetlamps light the path in shades of yellow. Leaves from overhanging tree branches line a stone wall to our left. The wall is interrupted by a small wrought-iron gate. “Hard luck. The park is locked. You up for climbing the wall?” I ask Brendon.

He turns and measures the wall with his hands. Brendon jumps to catch the top of the wall and hauls himself up. For a heavy built man, he sure is nimble. He sits on the wall and offers his hand. I grasp his hand and scale the wall with his help. We both jump, holding hands to the other side.

“So, we are kids again, climbing walls to sneak inside.” Brendon rubs his hands to remove the dirt on them and smacks my butt.

“Hey.”

“Only helping you clean the dirt.” Brendon grabs my butt. My thighs twitch with jealousy at losing out on their chance.

I brush his hands away and give a gentle shove with my shoulders. “We are here to talk, so keep your dirty mind off my butt.”

Brendon doesn’t budge an inch. “Wait for a few minutes, and we will see who gets their arse dirty.”

When we stop blabbering, I scan our surroundings, inhaling the petrichor and moss smell. This place is not a park. Oh. “Blue, this is a graveyard.” I move closer to him and grip his hand.

“Scared, gold-hunting swordfighter?” Brendon squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry, I will protect you from the walking dead.”

I rise on my toes and whisper in his ears. “Shh, keep quiet. The ghosts don’t scare me. Let us not wake up the vampires. I am not carrying my stake with me.”

Brendon raises his right eyebrow. “Twilight fan.”

“No, I am more a Big Bang Theory guy.”

The grin on his face sends the tiny hearts into a wild spin around my head. The guy is too delicious to not take a bite. Okay, misdemeanors of the zombie kind are a bit inappropriate for a graveyard. Ele hums. How about lick this guy from top to bottom or suck him off? Mm, what a delectable idea.

“Knock. Knock. Where can I find Mr. Saaransh?”

I clear my throat along with my mind of the sex fog. There is a bench nearby; I signal to Brendon. We walk the distance, fingers tangled together. No risk here; I can be myself. Everybody is asleep six feet below the ground. A few lamps illuminate the corners. The dim yellow light plays around the tombstones to create patterns. Trees line the periphery, cutting off the view to the street at most places. Flowerbeds adorn the sides of the bench.

I sit and pat the place next to me. Brendon sits by my side. I hear a growl and scoot into his lap. “Eek. Did you hear the growl? Is it a dog or a wolf?”

“In the middle of London, not a wolf but maybe a bear.” Brendon turns his head to scan the place. The growl comes again.

This time I catch him in the act. “Stop it, will you, Yogi Bear?”

Brendon doubles over, laughing himself silly. His eyes shine in the night light. Cheeks pulled to the sides, lips stretched into a thin line revealing perfectly shaped white teeth. One elbow to his side makes him sober. “Ouch.” When I glare at him, he nudges me with his shoulder. “Admit it. I spooked you there for a minute.”

“Mr. Brendon Marsh, behave yourself. This is a solemn place, and we are here to have a serious discussion.”

Brendon pulls me closer and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Shoot, what is bothering you?”

We are too damn close. Brendon’s body heat warms me and wraps me in safety, giving me hope. After I got his message, I debated and rehearsed my words. I planned to tell him we can’t be together. Our last adventure can’t be repeated. Now in front of him, I am uncertain. Desire is rekindled. Brendon is irresistible. I bite my lip and stare at my feet, lowering my head.

Brendon places his palm on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You can talk to me. Your secrets are safe with me.” His husky Australian accent, which breaks through on occasion tickles me. The tone is etched along with our night at his place in my mind. A night whose fragrance will forever remain in the page of my life. One page, one night.

I straighten and turn toward him and get to the point. With him, I will share my truth. No hiding, no sugarcoating. A straight heart-to-heart. If he walks away, so be it. Gillu did some straight talking with Ele last night. Despite the pep talk, I am hard-pressed for words. Brendon senses my hesitation.

“Do your parents know?”

“God forbid. Pa will throw a hissy fit. Of late, he is itching to set me up for marriage. Insistent on finding me a sweet girl.” How do I tell him I have eyes for a buff man similar to the one sitting beside me?

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“Nah, I am the sole bearer of expectations the size of Mount Everest. You?”

“A houseful. Three elder brothers and a younger sis.” Brendon grins, recalling some fond memory. They must be close. Would my life be different if Pa and Ma had someone else to fuss upon?

“So, this is all new to you.” Brendon again prompts to interrupt the conversations going on between the crickets in the silent night.

I nod. “Brendon, I only came out to my cousin before taking the flight to London. Same-sex relationships are taboo in our society. An archaic law reinforces these prejudices.”

Brendon gives a slight nod, so I continue. “Playing badminton at the international level makes the situation worse. Even though badminton is not as popular as cricket, people in India recognize me after winning the Asian and Commonwealth Golds. So, I keep all these desires bottled up.” I study Brendon to check his reaction. His slow, gentle blink eases the tension inside me. Brendon’s hand caressing my back melts my heart in the warmth of his understanding.

“London is a chance to release the frustration building inside. People here are busy chasing the popular stars at the games. This gives me anonymity. While prepping for the games, I wanted to find a way to live a little.”

This time I hold his gaze. I need him to understand the genuineness of my words. “I hid my identity, and I will understand if you are upset about it, but I don’t regret a single moment I got to spend with you. I am glad I found you.”

Brendon squeezes me in his arms, holding me tight. “When did you realize you were gay?”

“I had my first crush at fourteen, on a boy in my school.” I rub my lips at the memory. “The punch the idiot landed on my face brought my budding romance to a screeching halt. Was a kiss too much to ask?” The incident forced me to crawl into the closet and lock the door. Hiding from my parents and my friends. The punch still hurts. “The bugger drew a bold red line for misadventures of the gay kind for a lifetime.”

Brendon snorts. “Living two lives must be difficult.”

Should I tell him about Ele and Gillu? No, don’t add to his impressions about your craziness. “Mhm. Lonely and scary. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself.” I draw my fist to my heart. “Hurts like hell.”

Brendon plants a kiss on my head and whispers in my ear, “I understand, babe. You don’t need to worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

My eyes tear up. What did I do to run into this man in my life? “I don’t know what I can do to thank you. I feared coming here, afraid to muddy the memories we created.”

Brendon releases me. The hunger in his eyes matches mine. “Well, I know a way you can thank me.” He traces a line along my jaw with his knuckle. “Let me show you.” He slides his hands around my neck and pulls me close.

I clasp his hand. “This is dangerous.”

“Why are you whispering? Even if the dead are listening, no one is going to tell.”

Smart-mouth. I pull Brendon’s head toward mine to coddle the cuteness on his face.

*

BRENDON

 

I enjoy the way Shy’s body reacts to my lips. The muscle twitch, the moans, and the mumbled nonsense coming from his mouth. We should not be doing this here. He shared his apprehensions, but I can’t help myself. His sincerity and innocence are addicting.

“More,” I mumble as Saaransh squirms in my lap. My hands move to Shy’s belt. He places his hand over mine and stops me from unbuckling.

Hmm, getting naked in a graveyard is not the best idea, but kisses ain’t rattling any bones. I pepper Shy’s face with more kisses. When I nip his neck between my teeth, Saaransh shivers. Hell, I want him. With a tug to his collar, I pop open the top few buttons, exposing his chest. A sleek line runs between his defined pecs. I kiss my way over his smooth tawny skin to join my hand caressing his nipple. Saaransh tightens his grip on my neck.

“FAGGOTS!”

The shout shatters our bubble. I release Saaransh and stand to scout the area. In the dark, making things out is difficult. Still, the dim light catches the group of four men at a far corner. Goosebumps prickle my skin, reminding me of my time in prison after Scott’s death.

The abuse from the inmates flashes in front of my eyes. The cusses and name calling morphed to spitting at me and ended with my head shoved in the toilet. The abusers were relentless, beating me when I did not comply. A watchful guard saved me from an attempted rape. The terror of the night made me a man. I took to the gym and boxing with a vengeance.

Thanks to Matt, my eldest brother and his lawyer friend, the court released me for lack of evidence. I lost six months of my life. The incarceration toughened not only my body but my resolve to fight devils like the ones standing in front of us—time to put those boxing skills to some use. Saaransh grabs my hand and hums. “Huh? Pink panther.” I stare at him.

He whispers in my ear. “Adding sound effects. About this time in a Hindi movie, a haunting melody would play out in the background.”

Is this guy real? “We are about to have our arses handed out to us.”

When my eyebrows stay bunched, Saaransh goes on. “What? You were the one running your mouth all over me, forcing me to mewl. Look what you did. Woke up the dead.”

I shake my head. “You are nuts. These guys are real. They will hurt us.” Saaransh makes a face. “Is this your go-to response to stress?”

Saaransh shakes his head, “Sorry. Ele sometimes acts stupid.”

“Who is Ele?”

“Ignore Ele. We have a fight on our hands.” Saaransh points to the guys who are walking toward us.

Kooky. I can’t help the chuckle, but we need to deal with the approaching danger. The first safety rule my parents taught me after I came out, ‘avoid conflict unless you or someone’s life is in danger,’ has stood the test of many a skirmish. “This is not a time for jokes. Stay close and don’t say a thing. Don’t react.”

The second safety rule is to find help. Dead bodies won’t come to our rescue. I take out my phone and dial 999. Most of the forces will be focused on the Olympic Park area. I am not sure if the police will arrive on time. Still, this is our only chance. I give our details to the dispatcher and tug Saaransh in the direction opposite to where the men are. We need to get out of here before the men catch up.

They are smarter; two of them move around the corner and stand right where we are heading. The other two are behind us. “I will distract the men. You make a run for it.” I squeeze Saaransh’s hand. He is all sweaty. He moves his lips, but I take his face in my hands, joining our foreheads to look him in the eye. “When I tell you to run, you escape, okay?”

“No,” Saaransh shakes his head, tightening his grip on my jacket. “If we fight, we fight together. If we run, we run together, and if we die?” He glances at the men. “I am not leaving you, Blue,” Saaransh plants a quick kiss on my lips.

His words stun me. No one other than my family has ever stood by my side. If we were not in danger, I would sweep this man off the ground and carry him caveman style to hide him away in my bedroom. Forever. But first, we need to manage our way out of this unscathed.

“You need to save yourself, Shy. Your match tomorrow.” He keeps shaking his head. His lips move, but I put my finger on them. “Please run when I tell you to go.” I hold him tight one last time before we face the men. The four men in black leather jackets, tatted with their heads shaved, form a circle around us. The stench of alcohol overwhelms the earthy smells.

Two are about my size and the other two small and skinny. I can tackle all four, but I need a diversion until Saaransh is out of danger. I hope Saaransh can run fast. I ball my fists and get into a boxer’s stance. The biggest one lunges at me. My right hook catches his face as he throws his hand to grab me. The crack of his jaw is sweet. The man tumbles to the ground.

The other two pounce on me, holding my arms as they wrestle me to the ground. They picked the wrong man to fight. I smash my left elbow into the ribs of the guy holding my left arm. When his grip loosens, I turn over and grab the throat of the man on the right, choking him. He splutters. I smash my fist into his face—blood spurts from his cut lips. The impact disables him. I grab his head and bang it against a tombstone. The man collapses, dragging me down.

When I stand after a bit of struggle, I see one skinny guy grappling Saaransh. I push myself toward them, but I am stopped by the other two. Something in the skinny one’s hand shines. Oh, god, they have a knife.

“You fucking faggots,” the second hefty man shouts as he rushes toward me. I twist and slam my leg against his torso. He falls on the skinny one, crushing him as he topples over him. When the man gets up on his knees, I kick him in the stomach, sending him to the ground again. I jump and smash my elbow into his chest, putting all my hundred-odd kilos into the force. The man passes out.

The skinny man comes at me with the knife. I grab his wrist and twist his arm behind his back. Once the attacker’s hand is immobilized, I remove the blade with my free hand and throw it as far as I can into the bushes. With the knife out of the equation, I lock my arm around the man’s neck and squeeze. He chokes, hands flailing in the air. I grip his head and turn him around. One fist to his face sends him reeling to the ground. He passes out.

I turn my attention to the fight between Saaransh and the remaining guy. Saaransh is holding him to the ground and pounding his fists into the man. I rush toward them, but the man collapses, before I can assist.

“Hey, are you okay?” I extend my hand. Saaransh stumbles as he stands. “Steady now.” He hugs me. Saaransh’s heart is running like a freight train, breaths ragged. I try to console him, rubbing his back. “It’s over. We are safe. Let’s get out of here.” He releases me with a jerk and pushes me to the side. Saaransh stands in front of me with his hands raised. The shiny green paper flashes for a second before the bottle lands on Shy’s head, shattering into pieces. The assailant raises his hand again, part of the broken bottle still in his grip. I grab Saaransh and turn us together, using my body to shield him.

A sharp pain spreads from my shoulder to my spine. I release Shy, and he falls to the ground clutching his head, hands soaked in blood. I turn around and slam my knee in my attacker’s balls. He collapses to the ground. The man scowls as another kick lands where his hands cover his crotch.

I scan the scene to check if any of the attackers are still standing. The first bulky man is getting up. I move toward him, but he scampers in the opposite direction, away from the police sirens. What a relief. I go over to Saaransh and remove his hands from his face. Blood covers both his hands and face. He gapes at me with horror in his eyes.

He moves his hand behind me and pulls out something with a jerk. The pain shoots through my body, and stars flash in front of my eyes. I collapse over Shy.

The half-closed eyes blur the red and blue lights of the police vehicles. Shy’s voice is faint as if coming from a distance.

“Officer. Officer. Please help us.”