Because while he may no longer be the only one she shoots late nights with, he'll be damned if he won't stay the last one she says goodnight to.
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Because while he may no longer be the only one she shoots late nights with, he'll be damned if he won't stay the last one she says goodnight to.
Originally posted by: Couch_Potato
She's gotten into the habit of carrying a picture from his modeling days around with her. It is stashed away amongst movie ticket stubs, receipts, scribbled tissues and visiting cards that she keeps safe in her notepad. It serves as a keepsake (and sometimes, as a reminder of sorts) and a safety guard - although Param calls it blackmail - for when he takes his teasing a little too far.
THIS LINE was the most PERFECT way to start a fic. Ever. I cannot fathom why it resonated within me, but the moment I read it, I knew this fic would be really special.
She doesn't have to see him to know that now he's become Randhir Singh Shekhawat. Knows how his almost black eyes would have turned golden under the bright lights. Knows his body will be rigid right now, his muscles bunched up, tensed. He'll be standing taller (which makes his collarbone peek out from his carefully selected tee - he doesn't know this but she does). His hair will be casually messy, his lips parched and his voice will have a hoarse edge to it. Deeper, more resounding. She knows all this yet that's not what throws her off.
Woah there. Do you want me to die right now? I mean, it's not just what you described (which is hot beyond words :'O) but the way you did it. As mentioned before, you're a gem that I am SO happy to have come across.
She looks at it long and hard until she's convinced it's seared into mind and she can see it perfectly even with her eyes closed before hiding it away again until the next time.
Lately she finds herself looking at the picture more often than she cares to count.
Can there BE a better ending for this? I think not.
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