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This is an answer, an explaination and an analysis all in one.
Answers the following questions
1) What the hell is going on between the couple Love or the other L word?
2) Vishesh observations of yesterday's scene. What did Ash go through when she saw it?
3) Is Ash a Vidushi supporter or a Parth one (Answer: She ships Vidarth for the hot chemistry)
So, here is an attempt to decode what Vidarth used to be and what they are now.
Cryptic Clues
CLUE ONE.
She used to call it love, her overwhelming need. Her overwhelming need to be near him, look at the face that made her feel like a girl, problem free and innocent, and still not stifling the mischief within her soul. She called it love, when she chased him like how a hungry animal would chase it's prey. She called it love, even when he ran, even when he turned around, frustration pouring out of his every cell, screaming in her face that she was sick.
It was only a crush, he had thought , an infactuation. Nothing more than that. He used to call it her madness, her insanity. She used to cling to him like a leech to the limb of an unfortunate victim and it had become a sick sort of ritual for both of them. She used to hold on tight and he tried to pry her fingers loose. It was a vanity, a twisted habit of theirs. Pull and push. He got used to it. He got used to her trailing behind him. Used enough to feel anger and panic twist his insides when she would have been lost to him, dead to the world with a hand full of little white pills.
And then, she was back again, like a rubber band snapping back into place, his stalker, his biggest fan, dying for a few words, a smile on his lips. And when he did, when he showed the slightest bit of happiness, she glowed. She glowed with a blinding radiance.
But then, the sun also sets.
And he felt the darkness cover the sky as she pulled away, retreating into her shell, speechless, avoidant.
CLUE TWO.
Something clawed at him when her lips had a name on them, a name that was not his.
And then, the tables were turned, he was a man possessed to open her eyes, make her see that he was the only one for her, not anyone else. He called it love, trying to make her realise who was fooling her and who was the man who REALLY loved her.
She labelled it jealousy, eyes mocking him, telling him he just wanted to make things go back to their twisted normal. Where he controlled her like a puppet. But, her smirk said that the puppet had cut her strings. And he said to himself 'the puppet has handed her strings to another person, not cut them'
For a second, the hazy lines unblurred and maybe you could even define their feelings.
CLUE THREE.
Indifference from her side, determination from his.
Ice in her heart, frozen to his pain. She was a master player at the game at emotional concealing, even her own, she could twist her own feelings like clay, make herself believe what she wanted, see only what her eyes wanted to see.
Fire in his vains, passion. A burning thirst to prove himself, to protect her from smashing into pieces. Yes, he had hurt her too like she had pointed out so viciously. But he'd be damned if he let anything hurt her now. She was his, underneath her pretences both of them knew where her heart lay. Both of them knew who she loved. He just had to remove the nostalgia for her past that was blinding her eyes.
And then the wretched lines tangled like multicolured strings again.
His fire burnt hot and string, melting away the ice, leaving her a melted puddle, a needle pointing south, confused and shattered. But then he picked her up, held her steady and managed to pull her back from the abyss. She snapped into control , destroying the one who tried to destroy her life. And he stood there, smirk on face, contented. There would be nohing holding her away from him. Not even herself.
CLUE FOUR.
Her embarrassed face said it all, so he did not let her lips speak. There was no need for words.
Urgency and escape pulled them into an isolated room, body against body.
And then, it was like they were looking at each other, man to woman, woman to man for the first time, the scars and burns of the past they had given each other non existence. Noses touched and breaths mingled, the proximity a seducing one, clouding all rational thoughts and blurring the fine lines of pain and pleasure.
When they were interrupted, the strings unravelled a bit.
Parth. Parth Parth.
Concern and fear overwhelmed her, concern and fear for him, for his health and his sanity. Something that had been hibernating inside her heart, something that had firmly rooted itself deep inside her very being. Something that she couldn't cut out, no matter how hard she tried.
It was that something that made her dash and battle against everything that could threaten him. Especially that goon Rana. She knew she had to lay low, open battles wouldn't work in her favour, the fighing had to be sneaky.
Watching him like this , frustrated and burnt out made her insides crawl. She was back to his caring stalker, his little admirer, wanting to kiss it better.
CLUE FIVE.
But this time, he welcomed her attention, craved it and felt satiated and inspired at her soothing words telling him to use his anger in a positive manner, her hand on his bare chest making him realise body heat was energy too. A smile lifted his troubled lips. And then she pointed out the utter irony of it all. Of her calming him down, like some kind of twilight zone situation, he'd smiled then, really smiled and she had smiled as well.
Her simple gesture had fuelled his fire and he gave the task his all.
Up and down
Sweat cooling his heated skin.
And then she was there again. His muse.
Looking at him, wide eyed.
And when blood rushed down his injury, she winced, determined to soothe his pain, dabbing ointment on the cut.
He looked down to see her concerned face and he had never seen anything prettier, she took his breath away. Her eyes drank him in, shirtless and chest gleaming with sweat, panting a little with the exhausting task he had been doing.
Like she was testing troubled waters, her hand moved nervously, eyes fixed on his face, her hand tracing his hand, fingers trailing up to grip his shoulder, her finger applying a little pressure to soothe his tired muscles, her eyes closing when his hand made it's way to grip her waist, the other pushing her hair back to expose her ear and her neck.
And then they sank into the mix of emotions.
CONCLUSION
Love, want, lust, need, craving, desire.
It was theirs, just their own.
Their personal salvation, a gateway to the future
Their personal damnation, an apoclypse of their pasts.
It was theirs. To suffer or savour.
Theirs alone.
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