Part 1 ¬ What if Aryan got drunk? Matured

Part 1 ¬ What if Aryan got drunk?

Aryan wasn’t sure when he stopped watching the world in colours. He had always led a colourful life. And one day, it just stopped.

He began seeing only Charcoals and Wines and Greys.

Colours that didn’t inspire him at all.

Then, suddenly, all at once, colour burst into his life. Not one, but a multitude of colours. 

The day Imlie entered Aryan’s life, colours he had seemingly lost, found him again.

Imlie was magenta, a very pretty colour, but still capable of hurting your eyes.

Imlie was lilac, a soothing colour, but one that was wrapped in mystery.

Imlie was the colour of sunshine, in the way she lit up his life, only to run away when night fell.

Aryan Singh Rathore wasn’t sure what he felt for Imlie, but one thing he knew for sure was that the colours that used to inspire him once upon a time, the colours he lost somewhere on the path he took, the colours that he refused to find, where thrusted upon him when Imlie entered his life.

And now, now his eyes were watching Imlie, dressed in the best colour ever, the colour that was the base of every colour, the colour that, when passing through a prism sheds multiple colours in its wake, the colour that represents Imlie’s journey from before to after.

Imlie was in white, and he could see that she was just one prism away from every colour entering her life.

She already had coloured his, he hoped that she found a way to do her own too.

Aryan shook his head, his thoughts not making sense to him. He hasn’t allowed these thoughts in his head. Not now, when the danger of falling in love with her was imminent. When he was just a wedding away from having her to himself.

He scoffed, a wedding away? He had made sure that he was a lifetime away from her.

He may be justifying it to himself by placing the blame upon her ex-husband’s influence on her, but he himself was on the path of one shitty move after the other.

He deserved the burst of hurt that went through him when she was scared of him, when she backed away from him, when she pushed him away, when she looked at him with accusing eyes, when he saw the hurt in her eyes, when she declared that he was a monster, when she said that she hated him.

He deserved every bit of it.

But he couldn’t stay away from the colours she burst in his life.

Colours that would go away once she did.

Aryan shook his head again.

What was his head up to now?

It was like he was out of control.

He looked down at the glass he had just downed, remembering two more before it, and realised what was happening.

The Thandai wasn’t just plain old Thandai. It was Bhaang. 

He was inebriated.

Imlie looked around for her nemesis. Her friend? Her husband? Her fiance? Her— Aryan.

Imlie looked around for Aryan and when she found him, she had the shock of her life.

There he was, in the middle of the ground, his Baby Doll running behind him and him ducking away from her. She looked around as Arpita and Narmada laughed, and Neela was fuming.

She didn’t understand. This was not a laughing matter. This was serious.

The Aryan Singh Rathore was running around, and no one was stopping him. Instead, they were all watching as another girl ran behind him.

She knew the Tripathi’s were behind her. That they were watching, what they believed to be, her husband running around and having fun with some other girl and Imlie fumed.

She was just about to move towards him when Aditya was behind her, and he leaned forward and said, “Abhi tak shadi shuru bhi nahi hui hai, aur yeh haal hai. Aur tum iske liye humse lad rahi ho?(The marriage has not even started yet, and he’s like this. And you are fighting for him?)”

Imlie turned around to glare at him. She was just about to reply to him, when she heard a loud exclamation of her name behind her.

She turned around suddenly, and there he was, Aryan, beaming at her, while a fuming Baby Doll followed behind him. 

She raised an eyebrow, and he raised one in return, and then, promptly began giggling again.

He moved towards her, grabbing her shoulders, he turned her to face Baby Doll and said, “See, yeh hai meri Doll!(See, she’s my Doll.)”

Imlie turned to look up at him in shock, and his grin was the second thing that would cause her to die today. The first being him calling her his doll.

She moved away from him a little, her hand raising to touch his forehead to check his temperature. He leaned back from her, as he always did, a frown marring his face. 

Arpita was the one that clarified, “Iss UNB ne Bhaang pili hai.(This UNB is drunk on Bhaang.)”

Imlie’s eyes widened as she heard that. Aryan Singh Rathore, the epitome of not ever losing control, was drunk on Bhaang?

Imlie felt it when he swayed and her arm immediately found his waist, her eyes locking with his. The rarely there smile, which she often needed to concentrate to catch, was on full display, and for a moment, just one moment, Imlie forgot all the reasons to fight with him, and found all the reasons he deserved the laughter his eyes expressed right then.

Baby Doll moved towards them, her mouth opening in her screeching tone, “Ary Baby—”

Aryan suddenly interrupted her then, “Would you please stop with that. Main tumhara Ary Baby nahi hun.(Would you please stop with that? I am not your Ary Baby.)”

Imlie couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her at his incredulous tone.

She was turned to face him, by him, and then, looking into her eyes, he continued, “Main tumhara Akkad Bagga hun. Yaa ABP.(I am your Akkad Bagga. Or ABP.)”

His eyes widened in excitement, and Imlie smiled at his childlike expression. But he wasn’t done, “Waise, Aryan chalega.(By the way, Aryan will do.)”

Now that confused Imlie to no end. What was he saying? Aryan will do?

Probably reading the confusion on her face, as he usually did, he replied, “Arrey, yaad nahi, uss din. Tum, for a change, mere liye Supergirl bani thi naa. Tumne mujhe Aryan kaha tha. I liked that.(You don’t remember, that day. You, for a change, became Supergirl for me. You called me Aryan. I liked that.)”

Imlie noticed how the Rathore’s were laughing at her predicament, and the Masi-Bhaanji duo were fuming at Aryan’s words. She turned the other way, at the Tripathi’s, and the looks of slight amusement mixed with disapproval was clear to Imlie.

Then her eyes found Aditya, and his face was a mix of hurt, betrayal, anger, embarrassment and jealousy.

Before she could say anything anyway, Aryan was between Aditya and her, shielding her tiny little body behind his huge one.

She tried to stop him but he set his eyes on Aditya and shooed him away, “Go away Mr. Tripathi. Off with you demon. Be gone.”

Aditya snorted at Aryan’s actions, moving towards them, he asked, “Kyun? Aapko jalan ho rahi hai? Imlie ko humare saath dekh ke?(Why? Are you jealous? Seeing Imlie with me?)”

Aryan’s face twisted, but in that cute little button way, and Imlie wasn’t even sure what Aditya had said because the expressions that were being displayed on Aryan’s face were ones she hadn’t ever seen before.

She was intrigued by this inebriated Aryan Singh Rathore.

He laughed bitterly then, and moved further towards him, and said, “Jalan?(Jealous?) At this point I’m worried that you’ll threaten my Imlie and she is too naive and she’ll see it as love.”

Before Aditya could respond however, Aryan was turning away from him, and facing Imlie then, and asking, “Fir mera kya?(Then what about me?)”

Imlie looked him in the eyes, strangely, the same as always, even when she knew he was speaking the truth in his state. Was he really more worried for her than her revenge? Was he really hoping to save her from her fate repeating itself? 

Was he marrying her for revenge? Or for her?

Imlie looked as he moved towards her again, his face shut down, and his hands reaching hers and holding them. He looked down at their hands, and looked in her eyes again. She looked as he inhaled, his drunk state clear in his broken speech as he asked, “Don’t go around saving him anymore after we are married, please? I liked you saving me.”

Imlie’s eyes teared as her mind flashed back to that day. Him, lost, her, trying to bring him back. Him, not breathing, her, asking him to breathe.

Both of these things happened when she called him by his name.

She smiled at him as he wiped her tears, always ready to catch them when they fell.

But then he swayed once again and she caught him.

Looking at everyone’s mixed expressions, she decided that he needed to rest. Looking at Arpita, hoping she would understand, Imlie pleaded.

Arpita, the best sister-in-law she could have, nodded, and then Imlie supported Aryan by his waist, looked at everyone, purposefully avoided looking at Aditya, she moved towards Aryan’s Mrs. Lambi Gaadi.

Grasping around for his keys, her hands went around him and she blushed as she couldn’t find them. He laughed at her blush and tapped her nose, saying, “It’s red!”

She shook her head, and finally found the keys in the pocket of his Kurta.

Settling him in the car, she began driving towards the Rathore Mansion. She saw as he dozed off, and remained dozed off the whole ride, and she sighed in relief.

When they did finally reach home, the relief just increased, and then another panic settled in. How was she going to get this guy inside?

Sighing, she shook him, and then shook him once again when he didn’t wake up.

Frustrated, she shoved him, and he finally gained consciousness. She thanked her Sitaa Maiyaa as he looked around, and looked far less glazed than he did at the Tripathi Residence.

She sighed, and left the car, opening the door for him and supporting him as he still stumbled inside, the Bhaang and the Daze still over him. She dragged him to their room, pushing him on the bed as she heaved. The man was heavy.

She turned around to get some water for him and tried to find some medicine for him. She smiled when she found them in her dresser, and the glass of water, she filled up from the jug on the coffee table.

She turned around and he was standing there, his Kurta off his body, and one of his hands scratching his head as he looked for the AC Remote. The one they had broken.

Imlie turned away from Aryan just as quickly she had turned to look at him.

She yelled, “Toka kapde kaahe utarne ki zaroorat hai?(What was the need of taking your clothes off?)”

Aryan yelled back, “I’m feeling hot. God damn it.”

She turned back to him as he cursed, but still looked away from his bare chest, and fought back, “Tohar garmi laage toh tum kapde utar diye?(You felt hot so you took off your clothes?)”

He moved towards her, grabbing the medicine and throwing it away on the bed, and taking the glass of water and gulping it in one shot. She still avoided him. His chest. His face. His eyes. 

Aryan smirked, he was still a bit dazed, but the way she avoided even looking at him, made him smug.

Grabbing her chin between his finger and thumb, he forced her to look into his eyes, and the sheer feelings he saw in them blew him away for a moment. But just for a moment. He pushed forward, and asked, “Garmi lagegi, toh kapde utarunga. Tum, kya kar logi?(If I feel hot, I’ll take off my clothes. What can you do?)”

He felt as she gulped, her eyes turning away from him once again.

Looking away from him, Imlie said, “Betuki baatein naahi karo. Tum nashe maan ho.(Don’t talk nonsense. You are still drunk.)”

Aryan scoffed, he may have been under the influence of the Bhaang, but now, he was just a bit tipsy. Three glasses of Bhaang could only do so much.

He watched as she freed herself from him, as she turned away from him, as she ran away from him. He wouldn’t let her. He couldn’t let her. 

He grabbed her wrist, stopping her from leaving him. Today, of all days, when he had laid bare what her leaving could do to him, he wasn’t letting her go. Not without finishing what they had begun.

Imlie stopped, her eyes closing as she felt his hand closing around her wrist. His words had caused enough turmoil inside her today. His touch only fired what was happening inside her. She felt his hand grabbing her wrist and she knew at that moment, for just one moment, she would cave.

She let herself be pulled by him, his bare chest touching her bare back, his hand resting on her waist, covering her stomach. She breathed in, deeply, her body lighting up as she felt what she hadn’t felt in a long time.

A burst of emotions that hardly, if ever, took over her.

Her eyes remained closed, but she felt him all the same. He was breathing as heavily as her. His other hand moved up her arm, and her mouth suddenly felt dry and the hair on the back of her neck rose. She felt him breathing, his exhale blowing through her ear, and she shivered.

Whether in resistance, or in anticipation, she didn’t know.

Then the hand on her arm was tugging her and she was face first in his bare chest. 

Her eyes rose up to look at him, and her hands settled on his collarbones. His hands went exploring around her back, pulling her even more into him, and touching her back with his fingers.

As his fingers caused havoc on her back, she felt goosebumps arise on her arms.

Aryan watched as she still avoided his eyes. He watched as she melted under his touch. He watched as she felt what he was feeling too. 

He knew he was getting hard, and the way her body was pressed into his, she would notice too. So, in a move that would distract her, and favour him, he pulled the strings holding her dress together at the back, untying the knot that connected them.

She gasped at his action, finally opening her eyes and looking at him.

She looked delectable.

He could eat her.

Moving towards her, his hands were now on her bare back, her hands moved to stroke down from his pectorals to his abs, his eyes on her, and her eyes on him. He asked for a silent permission to go ahead, and when he saw her grant them with the slightest curiosity in her eyes, he took it.

He took her.

Imlie’s world exploded as Aryan’s lips fell on her. Here she was, fake married to the guy, on the way to getting really married to him, and resisting him all the way, giving it all up for the bit of curiosity and the fire he arose within her. Her body did not feel her own. She lost control of herself as he took over her. His lips on her felt like something she couldn’t describe because she hasn’t felt anything like it.

He moved back from her, looking into her eyes, and she didn’t know what he found in them, but in one swoop, he was picking her up and placing her on the dresser, her face now on level with his.

Stepping between her spread knees, he pushed forward and kissed her, again. And she lost herself, again. This time, he didn’t let her, he pushed his tongue between her lips, wanting to enter her mouth, wanting to taste her, wanting to have her, just wanting her. His tongue clashed hers and his soft lips had hers within their grip.

His hands moved up from her thighs to her waist as hers moved from his abs to his waist, pulling him closer towards her. As her hands moved up his back, his hands moved up from her waist. As she lost herself in the kiss, she felt him lose himself in her too.

Aryan was heaving by the time he let go, short of breath. He knew what they felt for each other was intense, but this woman was driving him crazy.

And as he looked up, he was pushed out of the pleasure, for there was just sheer panic in her eyes.

She looked at him, her eyes wide, and said, “Tum Bhaang piye rahe.(You’re drunk on Bhaang.)”

Confused at her stating facts and panicking over them he looked on, and then she scrambled back, “Tum Bhaang piye rahe. Hum aisan kaisan kar sakat hai? Tum nashe maan ho.(You’re drunk on Bhaang. How can I do this? You are drunk.)”

Finally getting the reason for her panic, he thought to reassure her, that he was in his senses, that he knew what he was doing. But he knew that wouldn’t be enough. He knew once she spiralled into her rabbit hole again, it would be even harder to reach her.

So he, once again, in a display of his strength, his muscles straining, picked her up and proceeded towards the bathroom attached to their room.

Imlie jostled as she was picked up once again, her heart beating loudly, first from the kiss, then from the panic, and now because of another panic. She was confused. What was he up to now?

Aryan walked into the shower cubicle in their bathroom and turned on the shower, effectively pouring cold water on them, waking them up from the daze of Bhaang, and whatever it was that had happened outside.

The first one he did wake up from, but the other one, the one leading his thoughts outside, screamed at him as Imlie got wet under the shower. She was a vision. Her white dress stuck to her frame, her already visible midriff got sexier as the sheer fabric stuck to it. A drop of water dripped down her face, from her hair to her lips down her neck, and all he wanted to do was stop it in its path by licking it away from her skin.

He watched as her eyes widened, and he knew she was able to feel his hardness.

How could he possibly not be hard? She was right there, wet, dishevelled, her lips swollen, looking thoroughly kissed, panting and how could he resist her?

He let go of her, reluctantly, softly and bitterly, he let go of her.

He knew it was too soon. 

He knew she wasn’t ready.

He knew he wasn’t ready.

Imlie watched as he looked at her, his eyes unable to move away from her.

It was all too soon.

She wasn’t ready.

She wouldn’t be able to take it.

She heaved, her breath returning to her as he let go of her. She looked as he began to move away, and contradicting her own thoughts, she grabbed his wrist, it was too soon, she didn’t want him to leave.

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised, a water droplet stuck on his eye lash, and she wanted to just, kiss it away. She wanted to move towards him, and kiss him.

Aryan looked as she battled her own dilemma. 

Snorting, he moved towards her, closer to her once again.

He leaned down, his lips just below her ear, exhaling softly, making her shudder. He moved towards the junction between her neck and her ear, and bit her there, his teeth scraping her skin. And then his lips found the bite, sucking on it, his tongue licking the sting away.

Imlie trembled when he finally kissed her there, gentle as a breeze, and then, then the b*stard blew her ear and whispered, “Happy Holi!”

She jerked to meet his eyes, and he smirked and walked away, leaving her under the running shower.

Imlie looked down at herself and then at the mirror. 

She was dishevelled. Her dress was askew, her hair was a mess, and her neck, right below her ear, her neck sported a red mark, not quite a bite, something more.

A hickey.

Imlie groaned as she closed her eyes.

How was she supposed to stop the wedding now?