JeeYa OS: Six Seconds

Hi, this fic has an original character from my other fic JeeYa OS: Just One Glance(https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/yeh-fitoor-tera/5385465/jeeya-os-just-one-glance#168082814). You do not need to read it, but Ayaan was introduced there. So, Happy Reading.

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Saumya had read once, that the key to falling in love was eye contact. When two people could not look away from each other, for a mere six seconds even, it was supposed to mean they were some intense feelings between them. That they felt something for the person they couldn’t look away from, that the person who couldn’t look away also felt something.

It was a truth universally acknowledged that Saumya Mathur was unable to look a person for even one second in their eyes. She stole her gaze away when she accidentally met someone’s gaze in mere milliseconds. It did not matter for her, whoever stood opposite her, she would look away.

She had pleaded, terrified as she was with the horror behind her eyes, but she had been pleading to a blind man. A blind man who hadn’t had any sympathy, any care, any guilt, in his unseeing eyes, as he ignored her horrified ones, and continued the assault he had engaged them in. What was the point of looking in such eyes, such soulless, lifeless eyes, with pleading, begging eyes when nothing would ever come out of it.

So yes, Saumya was unable to look a person for even one second in their eyes, it reminded her of the one pair of eyes that could not see the torture their owner was inflicting upon her. But that wasn’t the only reason behind her being unable to look a person in their eyes was because after that, many people with eyes, had chosen to ignore the horror her soul carried, her soul, the windows of which she had chosen to shut, lest someone finds how it was corrupted, damaged, and, soulless.

Him, however, he was the first person to bend down, to meet her eyes when she looked away from him. She hadn’t realised it then, not immediately. But he always did. She looked at him for a millisecond before looking away, and he was bending to meet her gaze to keep his point.

Saumya had the tad bit tendency to stare at her feet when she wanted to say something, so she always got lost in the swirls of the patterns in her Chappal. It calmed her down, almost hypnotized her, and suddenly, she would be back to the conversation, regardless of not looking at the person she was conversing with.

Only when conversing with him did she not need the swirls of the patterns in her Chappal to hypnotize her. Because he never let her look at them. No. He had the habit of forcing himself in her vision so she would look at him and not be hypnotized and would actually listen to him talk.

The hypnotization was necessary for her mental health. It allowed her to be lost in her own world when her mother was speaking of hiding, when her father was speaking of respect and tradition, when her aunt was speaking of her cowardice and when her uncle was speaking of her in that way where she felt herself shuddering as he uttered the words Saumya Bitiya. Saumya never realised how much she hated the word, hated the way he said it, until he could no longer say it to her.

So, she dissociated her way out of conversations. If it was anything important, her brother was used to filling her in on what she missed and if it was unimportant, then Saumya already had a lot going on in her life, she didn’t want to add needlessly more to it.

It wasn’t like she actively realised that she met his gaze for more than a millisecond, for more than a second, for more than two seconds, for more than three seconds, for more than four seconds, for more than five seconds. No. It was gradual. So gradual that she missed it while it was happening to her. She didn’t even realise she had stopped timing herself when she let herself get lost in his gaze.

She did that.

She timed and celebrated the one second mark with each person she met.

The day she looked at him, in his eyes, met his gaze, for more than six seconds was the day she came to know what she was doing. The discomfort of his proximity to other girls, the twinge in her stomach at his standing shirtless where anyone could see him, the irritation on her skin when he talked on the phone with all his teeth out, the unease of his leaving their home late at night, the mortification over her actions because of him, the vexation of his words after he declared he loved her and then took it back, the anxiety she felt in his absence, and the composure she lost in his presence, could all be traced back to the six seconds.

Or rather, the intense feelings those six seconds indicated at.

She did agree that intense feelings did not always mean love. It could be a platonic friendship, brotherhood, sisterhood, protectiveness over a sibling, etc.

She also had to agree that the intense feeling she held for Jeet Sir were not platonic and could never be the protectiveness over a sibling.

If it was, he would not be able to unnerve her the way he did.

The intense beating of her heartbeat whenever he was in her vicinity should prove that the intense feeling she felt was love.

It was six seconds.

Six seconds where their gazes met and it was enough to answer all the questions her mind had asked.

It was six seconds where their gazes met.

Their gazes.

That must mean that he too, had intense feelings for her.

It must mean he too, felt what she felt.

Or, maybe, maybe he felt a platonic friendship, or even the protectiveness over a sibling.

He was the one that had declared after all, that he did not love her, that he had never seen her in that way, that he had never loved her, and would never love her.

Tumhari Kismat Itni Bhi Achhi Nahi Hai Ki Tumhe Jeet Mil Jaye.

Just for that, just to curse him once, she wished she knew some Kaala Jaadu.

The Bike Ride proved that it was not platonic, that it was not protectiveness over siblings.

So, she decided she would try to recreate it. She roped in her new friend in a challenge to take her on a bike ride with him to determine if he would get jealous enough to offer her his own Bike Ride.

It was too bad she lost.

Somehow, the universe gave her the answer anyways.

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Jeet wasn’t an unreasonable person. He was rational person. A rational person who made mistakes sometimes but powered on any which way because he learned early on that no one would ever come to save him. He was tailor made to hurt his entire lifetime.

The world that was now afraid of him was the world he was always afraid of.

The way he was, his personality, his attitude, his grit, was something he taught himself, because the world had the real capability of hurting him and he had no one by his side to protect him for it.

She was the one that made him understand that the world is capable of hurting you whether someone stood by you or not.

Her family was everything his had been not. Protective, caring, loving. His Maa, she loved him, he believed she did, became a shell of the person she was, and his Nani, he knew she loved him, but she lost a daughter she never got to grieve, and grief made people unavailable sometimes.

Of course, Jeet never blamed them. He remembered them by honouring the things he associated with them. His Maa’s Carrom Board, his Nani’s Kalash, his Baby, the first thing the three of them had bought together, he cherished these three things more than life itself.

He wasn’t the only one cherishing these things anymore.

She came into his life like a wave crashing at the beach, not a big wave, but not a small one either. She came, she messed everything, and then she pulled him with herself into the vast sea. Like one couldn’t help but be pulled by the force of the wave crashing back in the sea, he couldn’t help but crash into her life.

He did not know why she appealed to him so.

Maybe it’s the mirror image of despair he sees when their gazes meet.

Maybe it’s her loneliness, so similar to his own, despite being in a crowd of people who loved her.

Maybe it’s her, just her, that he found himself unable to maintain the distance he had never found difficult to maintain before.

She was a force to be reckoned with and he couldn’t stop himself from reckoning her.

The Bawaal that followed Jeet being drunk with Saumya in tow, followed by Hridhaan being drunk too was something Jeet regretted. He knew Hridhaan regretted it too. He was left heartbroken because it had led to events where Saumya hadn’t been able to stand the insults that were veiled as concern from the Saxena family.

Jeet still remembered how she had returned the Shagun-ke-Kangan and unwaveringly answered Hridhaan’s mother, “Agar aapko yeh rishta manzoor nahi hai, toh yeh rishta nahi hoga Aunty. Aapko bas kehne ki der thi. Main khud hi yeh rishta todh deti. Jeevan bhar aise rishton mein rahi hun jaahan naa mujhe sukh mila hai naa khushi. Ek ghar se dusre ghar mein jaa kar, agar wohi kismat waapas milni hai, toh kya fayda mera sach bolne ka? Kya fayda mera sarr uthakar jeevan jeene ki himmat karne ka?”

That had shut up Hridhaan and her father’s pleading for the Rishta to continue.

That shut up the talks of her marriage in their home.

That shut up the hunger of the never ending pit that was his stomach.

When the excitement from their life died down, when it was finally silent in the way it wasn’t oppressive, everything went back to normal. He was being fed Shakkar-ke-Parathey and Kashiphal-ka-Halwa regularly. There were no rooftop interactions between them, but their interactions from the window of his room to the Angan of her home returned. Their daily teasing over who would clean his Baby was back on schedule.

The one thing that did change was that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Junior for too long.

It was a problem now.

He couldn’t stop himself from staring.

He once glanced at her for six consecutive times, all under one second, but it boiled downed to the fact that he stared at her for six seconds in one sitting.

The bigger problem, the problem that plagued him the most, was that she noticed him and met his gaze each and every time. He would continue staring had she not caught him, maybe even for the entirety of the six seconds, but no, her eyes meeting his made him look away, made him feel guilty, but did not make him stop.

He couldn’t anymore.

It did not seem to matter that he was playing with fire, behaving the way he was, staring at her, unable to make himself stop from being drawn to her, being responsible for her. It troubled him, how he found excuses for being near her.

It didn’t help that she was everywhere.

If he didn’t know any better, he would think that she really was some kind of witch, that she really knew Kaala Jaadu and had put a tracker on him just to show up wherever he was. But he was an engineering student through and through and he knew that putting a tracker on someone was easy nowadays and he checked all over himself, his phone, his bag, his Baby, but nothing.

His body suffered heartburn whenever she was near him. His stomach grumbled whenever she looked at him. His hands tingled whenever her hand was close enough to his.

He still remembered her touch. It was imprinted, seared, on his shoulder and on the palm of his hand. He found himself rubbing his shoulder, just beside his neck, exactly where she had gripped him to not fall off his bike. He found his palm itching sometimes, exactly where he had gripped her hand, to make sure she doesn’t fall off his bike.

He knew how touch was this big thing for her. How she felt uncomfortable when a guy touched her. How she trembled and shuddered her way through panic before she forced herself to settle over any touch from a guy.

And there he was, unmindful of the one thing because of which he had already been insensitive and hurtful to her before.

He was ashamed.

He was ashamed because he had liked it. Her hand had been soft, first on his shoulder, then on his hand. Her touch had been warm, because it had spread that light within him that only the sun could fill him with. The press of her hand had been like fire touching him. It had burned Jeet.

Jeet was not averse to touch, he just did not seek it out.

Saumya was averse to touch, he would never touch her without permission.

The first touch on his shoulder, while not her choice, it became her choice when she did not move her hand away.

The second touch with their hands, was not her choice, and he did not even contemplate before he was letting go of her, already missing the warmth that had enveloped him as he had held her hand.

He should be ashamed.

Here he was, missing the touch of the girl who was averse to touching guys.

Here he was, unable to forget how he felt when she was touching him.

Jeet was not the kind of man to ever take drugs, but her touch had been a drug that had descended him into euphoria, and then crashed him from that high so bad that he couldn’t help but stop himself from chasing it.

He had planned to avoid her after that, but he was seriously doubting the tracker thing with her.

She was everywhere.

She was at the library with her friends.

She was at the ground with her team.

She was at the auditorium with the student council.

She was at his college.

She was at his home.

Was she always here and if it was, how was he just noticing it?

So, he decided, he would go to the one place where she wouldn’t ever be found. The club. After last time, if her father allowed her to step foot in the club again, Jeet would willingly sell his Baby. Here he would be alone, blissfully alone in a crowd of people who only knew of him and who would never know him.

He was dancing, he had had one energy drink, traumatised by how drunk he was the last time he was here, and he was dancing his heart out, happy to have one place away from all the discomfort she brought upon him.

His stomach grumbled, his heart burned and he groaned.

She was here.

How was she here?

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

It was ten at night on a Thursday.

If her father found out then they would all be dead meat.

He turned, already looking for her, and then, then he found the new friend she had made. She was with him. The guy that was all around her the college these past few days. The guy he noticed was in a prank war with her but now was her friend.

Ayaan.

He was a good guy, fairly popular, good at football, he was with Jeet on his team. He was funny, and he never backed down from a fight. He was crazy over Tania Saxena.

They stood much too close for his comfort.

He began moving towards them, and stopped once he noticed how they were joined by Paankhi, Tania and Krish. Ayaan literally couldn’t look away from Tania. His eyes tracked her every movement, from the moment she entered the club to the moment she stood in front of him. He was unable to look away from her. His eyes had something Jeet recognised but didn’t think much about and he remained silent as she stood in front of him. He looked, looked away when Tania caught him, looked again and did not look away this time. He bent down so that he would meet her gaze and he smiled when she did and he was offering her his hand and she was moving past him towards the bar and he stood there looking like an idiot with his hand extended and Saumya was laughing at him and he was glaring at her.

Oh.

Oh.

Jeet liked Saumya.

This was the worst possible time to have this realisation.

No. It really was.

How could he not realise it at a more opportune time.

Maybe when he was alone. Maybe when he was home. Maybe when he was studying. Maybe when he was at work. Maybe when he was at the garage. Maybe when he was modifying his Baby.

Maybe when he added a permanent seat on his Baby.

F*ck. How could he be so stupid?

How could he not realise he liked her when he, quite literally, added a seat on his Baby, something he had never done, just after one Bike Ride with her?

His Junior was literally in front of him. She was laughing at Ayaan, her shoulders were shaking, her pretty mint green Dupatta had slid off of one shoulder, which brought his attention to the mint green Anarkali she wore. She turned around when someone called her, and there it was, half of her back uncovered as the ends of the Anarkali was held together by two strained strings.

He was proud of her. He really was. The change in her wardrobe recently resonated with how she was becoming more of herself than ever before.

It just drove him insane.

The Saumya he knew, the Junior he knew, wore lose Salwar-Kurta that hung of her body. This Saumya, this person who his Junior was becoming, wore Anarkalis that accentuated her waist, showed off her back and made her look beautiful.

She was always beautiful. She was just becoming so much more comfortable in her skin to show that she was beautiful.

His blood boiled as her ex-fiancé came into view with his current fiancé.

It didn’t take long for Jeet to understand that Hridhaan had lied about his family’s acceptance of Saumya. It didn’t take long before Jeet once again stopped interacting with Hridhaan.

He also knew it didn’t take long for Saumya to realise Hridhaan had lied to her. It also didn’t take long for Saumya to understand that she never would’ve been able to marry Hridhaan, not while he had Reva buzzing around him.

Saumya’s discomfort was palpable, and it was enough to snap him out of the realisation he had just had. A realisation that would take him around four to five business days to work through.

He couldn’t leave his Junior in crisis just because he was in crisis, what kind of Senior would that make him?

Oh, his heart whispered, you really wanna do that right now?

He shook himself off.

Now is not the time, he answered with a non-answer.

He moved towards the group and Tania was back. She beamed at him and he offered a smile. She was a good girl, he felt for her, really, but if today was anything to go by, Ayaan seemed more gone on her than he realised.

Oh, why, his heart asked again, because he looks at her the way you look at your Junior?

Now is not the time, he grumbled again.

“Main ghar chod deta hun na tumhe Sumo.”, Hridhaan was speaking, which caused him to look up.

Ayaan moved in front of Saumya, “Koi zaroorat nahi hai. Hum manage kar lenge.”

Jeet felt a flash of annoyance at Hridhaan, a look at Reva was enough to know she did too.

Saumya sighed, moving ahead of Ayaan again, “Bas karo. Mujhe pata hai ki mera ghar jaana zaroori hai kyunki Papa ko nahi pata main yaha hun. But koi problem nahi hai. Main unse keh dungi ki main yaha sirf Tania ko lekar aayi thi. Kyunki mein ek stupid prank war mein haar gayi.”

Ayaan sighed, “I know you don’t feel bad about losing Saumya. I know you feel bad because you lost the bet and winning it was the only way you could think of to get your story back on track.”

Jeet, curious, only been noticed by Tania and Reva, asked, startling the new best friends, “Kaunsi story track pe laani hai tumhe Junior? Aur yeh chapparganju se kyun shart laga rahi ho tum?”

She looked like a deer caught in headlights while Ayaan just laughed.

She shook her head at Ayaan and then faced him again, “Kuch nahi Sir.”

She looked away then, and he bent down again, to look into her eyes that were once again on her Chappal. He asked, slowly, “Kuch nahi?”

She nodded, and looked away again.

He sighed. She did have the penchant for turning up wherever he was, places where she shouldn’t be, but he had no right of being privy to what goes around in her life. The wave of possessiveness along with the usual protectiveness was not totally new, but he kept his calm.

She did not like him being angry.

He couldn’t help himself despite that and threatened Ayaan, “Agar mujhe pata chala ki tu Meri Junior ko pareshaan kar raha hai, toh pehle teri khabar milegi, fir tu milega.”

Ayaan smirked, “Tension mat le Jeet. Teri Junior teri dhamki se zyaada darawani hai. Toh mujhe toh iss dhamki ki koi zaroorat nahi hai.”

Jeet smiled, annoyed at him, before he looked at his Junior, “Chalo. Main chod deta hun ghar.”

He saw her eyes widening at him, and he stopped breathing again. Their gazes met.

One.

Jeet knew she wasn’t actually in need of his help to get home. She carried her pepper spray and had three different ride booking apps on her phone.

Two.

But it didn’t matter. She wanted to get home before curfew. He could take her. He came here to stay away from here. He couldn’t.

Three.

Why would he even continue to try? He had realised all there was to realise. He stood before her already aware that he liked her.

Four.

Was like even enough of a term to describe what he felt for her? It seemed so trivial. So childish. His feelings felt so heavy.

Five.

They, quite literally, sat on his chest, making his heart beat erratically. They made him hungry, for just one look at her, and when he got that look, he wasn’t able to look away.

Six.

No. Like wasn’t it. And he wasn’t ready to use the big word yet. He had promised that he wouldn’t. Only now, it seemed he no longer had a choice.

“Aur kaise chodhoge tum Sumo ko ghar,”, spoke the bogeyman of his life story. Jeet looked at him as he continued, “tumhari bike pe? Uss pe toh back seat hai hi nahi. Main chodh deta hun ghar tumhe. Chalo Sumo.”

Here goes nothing.

Here goes everything.

“Ab hai.” He interrupted, just as Hridhaan was about to request again.

The music roared in the background.

It felt far away.

He felt her gaze but refused to look at her, instead focusing on everyone’s silence that surrounded them. He, Jeet, who was so confrontational, it was like a part-time job for him, confrontations, was avoiding looking at the girl he had big intense feeling towards, just because he couldn’t show her or tell her how much she has come to mean to him.

Ayaan laughed, slapping him on the shoulder, “Jeet.” He started as Jeet turned to look at him, “Bro. I don’t think Saumya ko kissi bhi bet ki zaroorat hai apni life track pe laane ke liye.”

At those words, he finally looked at her, and she was still looking at him. He was confused, and he was irritated, how could she tell Ayaan something and not him. She came to him when she wanted something. She came to him when she needed something. She relied on him when she was about to do something out of her comfort zone. She looked at him when she needed encouragement.

Now, all of a sudden, she had something she needed help with and she hadn’t sought him out, no, she had challenged her new best friend for his help. A challenge she lost.

He wouldn’t need her to win a challenge to help her. He would help her with whatever she wanted or needed. She just ought to ask.

And she hadn’t asked.

So, he didn’t know,

The flash of jealousy made his jaw clench. Here she was, needing to go home, and here he was, offering to take her home. How could he be so oblivious to his feelings for her when he complied to all her wishes.

He had let her celebrate his birthday, something he hated to celebrate.

He had forgiven her for her hand in the blunder she was partially responsible for on his birthday, when his father’s words had hurt him so much.

He had let her sit behind him, installed a temporary, and then a permanent back seat on his Baby, something he had never thought he would do.

He had bought a hundred packets of Bindi for her, just so she wouldn’t feel Adhuri, something he had only done for his Maa and his Nani.

He exhaled.

He had made a fool out of himself, something he only rarely allowed himself to be.

He looked away, and then moved ahead, crossing past her, finding the strap of her bag to pull her with him. He slowed down to a stop as his finger tangled with the strap of her bag, giving her the choice of walking out with him. He did not turn to look at her, he could not look at her, not in front of these people who knew about his feelings before he did.

His heart danced when he felt no resistance as she followed his pull.

If he smiled, no one was wiser.

If he smirked, he had the right to be smug.

If he frowned, it was because her idiot brother was calling out to him. They both stopped when they heard Krish call him, “Jeet Bro,” he turned around, only to come face to face with her who was already looking at him. He looked up, above her head to see a smug smile on her brother’s face before he spoke, “Iss baar apni responsibility ache se nibhana.”

He glared at Krish as he cackled.

He looked at her and realised he still wasn’t able to look at her.

This night was going to go down as another one in history. This club was now witness to two of his most embarrassing moments in life. He should stop coming here. He should stay away from here.

They reached his Baby. The back seat was an elephant in the room.

He looked at her and asked, “Bag do apna.”

She shook her head in denial.

He sighed, “Agar bag nahi dogi toh pakdogi kaise mujhe Junior.”

She smiled, and tilted her head to the side, reassuring him, “Pakad lungi Sir.”

He looked at her incredulously, before he shrugged. Maybe she thought that a permanent seat would be more stable, that she wouldn’t need external help to stabilise herself.

He got on his Baby and waited for her.

He should’ve known she would pull something like this. He should’ve guessed when she didn’t hand him her bag that she had this in mind. He should’ve known that for all she was full of cowardice that resembled a scaredy cat, she had the courage and the whimsy to pull it off.

Her hand was back, her touch still seared him, still burned where she touched him. The warmth of her hand on his shoulder had spread to his heart and it was beating wildly. Could she feel it, was he vibrating like he felt his heart was vibrating.

Was the beat of his heart loud enough to be heard by her too.

It was enough. It should’ve been enough. It would’ve been enough. But Jeet craved more. He craved more. His eyes were shut. He was barely breathing. How was he supposed to drive when her touch intoxicated him more than any form of alcohol ever could?

He needed more.

He wanted more.

He couldn’t ask her for more.

So, he asked the universe.

He asked the universe for her touch to stay on him just for a few moments, just until they reach home, just until she had to get off.

The universe, which hadn’t been listening to Jeet for a long long time, listened to him today.

She did not take off her hand from his shoulder the entire time. He thanked every bump, every breaker, that tightened her grip just a little. He cursed the government when the roads smoothed, as her touch was lighter during them.

They reached home after the safest Jeet had ever driven in his life.

He would drive safely the rest of his life if she sat behind him.

Only, she had to get off now.

The disappointment of losing her touch never came. He knew it was a privilege, he knew she would never give it to him lightly.

He was shocked when her hand, instead of leaving his shoulder, slid down from where she rested it through his upper arm, to the crook of his elbow, before she rested it on his forearm. He had turned towards her when he felt her igniting his arm with her touch alone, and she had taken the opportunity to hold his wrist, then slowly his hand, before she gently got off.

Her hand did not stray away from his hand.

Jeet was losing his mind.

His gaze was stuck on their hands held together.

They stood beneath a stuttering street light, and their hands, intertwined, came in and went out of focus as the light switched on and off.

He wouldn’t believe she was letting him touch her had he not felt the same warmth he had felt that day, only today, his entire arm was searing with the fire her touch ignited in him.

He went to shake her hand off, but she didn’t let go, securing his hand with hers.
He looked up at her to find she was already looking at him.

She smiled, “Bas sirf cheh second.”

One.

He didn’t have the option to deny it any more, did he? Those intense feelings he had definitely could be defined with that term.

Two.

But he hadn’t used that term lightly, ever. And what of the promise he had no choice but to ignore? How could he do this?

Three.

He was afraid he really had no choice. It had happened. It was gradual. He would’ve stopped it had he realised it was happening.

Four.

Would he have, though? Would he? His Junior was kind of perfect. She was the light that lit up his dark world and he was all the better for it.

Five.

She was someone who stood by him, who fought for him, who cared for him, and if today was any indication, who loved him.

Six.

Who was he to deny love when the universe had literally thrown it at him when he dared to ask for her after never having asked for anything.

She let go off his hand. He missed it instantly.

He opened his mouth as he looked into her eyes, and closed it when he saw the twinkle in her eyes.

She knew.

She knew what she was doing.

He gulped before he asked the question that had churned his mind since he came to know about it, “Kya shart lagayi thi tumne, Ayaan ke saath?”

She looked at him, her eyes still twinkling, “Ki agar woh jeeta toh main Tania ko club le aaungi. Aur,” she paused, and he implored her to continue, “---aur agar main jeeti toh woh mujhe apni bike par ghumane leke jaayega.”

He gaped at her as she laughed, “Shubh Raatri. Jeet Sir.”

She turned away from him, her hair, open and pretty, brushing against his face. He took her in, her scent, her back as she walked away from him, the bounce in her step as she danced away from him, the tune of her song as she sang away from him.

He was gone on her.

He would rather die than let her ride on a bike with that Ayaan.

This proved one thing and one thing only.

He was in love with her.

And she knew.

She knew.

And maybe, just maybe, she loved him too.

The itch in his palm where her hand had just been was proof that she definitely did love him.