Akash

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ONE MONTH FADED INTO the next for Akash. It seemed as if the holiday decorations had just come down, but the calendar told him three months had passed. His mood sunk deeper with each passing week.

The distance was hard. Akash realised he’d found a place of comfort with Hamish. Email and dodgy Skype connections barely knocked the edge off.

His friends dragged him out at least once a week, his parents insisted on family dinners every other weekend though the drive about killed him, and Wyatt or Gray stopped by the bakery frequently. None of it seemed out of the ordinary. Yet, all of it felt like a conspiracy to distract him from worrying.

How the bloody hell am I not going to stress?

Syria had all but imploded. Bombings had increased exponentially over the last two months. Any sort of medical facility was usually skirted around by combatants, yet the news covered multiple stories of hospitals either completely or partially destroyed.

Akash held his breath through every report. Never before in his life had he actually sat each morning to watch the news and read the paper. Freddie insisted it was bad for his health, but he couldn’t stop.

What if he dies? What if I’m not watching the news and he dies? How the hell does anyone handle long-distance relationships? This is total shit.

His fear occasionally bordered on hysterical and irrational. Akash appreciated Freddie’s constant attempts to bring him back to real world. He wished it helped.

Shanti: Nye and I are going to the Sin Bin tonight. Want to come?

Akash: No.

Shanti: Please?

Akash: No.

Shanti: Aki.

Akash: I’m tired. It’s been an exhausting day. I’ve zero interest in drinking, dancing, or listening to loud music. Enjoy yourself.

Do I have “depressed” tattooed on my forehead?

Closing up shop, Akash decided to head over to Hamish’s flat. He spent at least one or two nights a week there and usually drove his lover’s vehicle. Checking on Ganesh first, he made his way out the back where the Mercedes was parked.

He barely resisted the urge to inhale the scent of the vehicle. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he could almost imagine Hamish’s arms around him. He’d definitely fallen hard.

I’m pathetic.

I’m living in a romantic tragedy, and I’m pathetic.

“You closed early.”

Akash peered around the front of the SUV to find Gray sitting on his Harley, leaning forward against the handlebars. “Something wrong?”

Gray shook his head with a gravelly chuckle. “You’re going to want to remember how to breathe. It won’t do your man a bit of good if you wind up having a heart attack while he’s gone.”

“Did you want something?” Akash couldn’t endure a lecture from anyone else on how he shouldn’t worry.

“He wrote you a letter.” Gray twisted the heavy ring on his finger absently. “We all write them if we’ve got folks left at home. People that we love. I haven’t written one in years. Can’t be bothered. Hamish wrote only one, and it’s got your name on it.”

“I—”

Gray held up a hand to stop him from moving forward. “Not giving it to you. I wouldn’t betray his faith in me. Just trust he fucking cared enough to bare his fucking soul to you.”

He ran his fingers tiredly through his hair, making more of a mess of it than an entire day of work had done. “Why even mention it if you won’t let me read it?”

“Stop fucking moping around like he’s already dead.” Gray kicked his bike into gear and walked it slowly forward. “Sleeping in his bed won’t bring him home.”

“Has anyone ever told you what an arse you are?” Akash glared at the man, who managed to glare and smirk at the same time. Impressive.

“Every fucking day.” Gray winked at him. “You’re fucking welcome.”

Arsehole. Maybe that’s why I’ve seen him and Scottie together. Arses of a feather flock together.

The rumble of the Harley drowned out any response Akash wanted to make. Gray nodded once in acknowledgement before riding off. Honestly. He could admit, at least to himself, that the man had a point.

He drove over to Hamish’s flat with one question on his mind. What was in the letter? It started as curiosity, but slowly morphed into a different sort of sadness.

How do you write a goodbye note just in case you might die?

His respect for those who served in the military went even higher. Akash reached out to the one person he could always trust to be brutally honest with him—his father. His dad asked to call him back later in the evening.

Akash showered, ate supper, and had just gotten comfortable in front of the telly when his mobile rang. “Papa?”

“Sorry. Your mum wouldn’t understand part of this.” His father’s voice soothed his fears, as it always did. “So, your Hamish wrote a letter.”

“Apparently.”

“I wrote your mum one.” His dad paused for several seconds, clearing his throat loudly. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done. Imagining not coming home to her. I don’t know about Hamish, but I couldn’t write the truth without placing myself in the darkest emotional space I can imagine. Broke my heart. I burned it in a bonfire when I finally retired from service.”

“Should I tell him I know?” Akash had considered texting Hamish before opting to reach out to his father first.

“Don’t.”

Silence.

“Don’t,” his father repeated seriously. “He needs to know you’re safe. Ask him when he’s home. Not now.”

“You’re right.” Akash hated to admit it because his innate curiosity made it hard to resist, but he would. “Thanks, Papa.”

“Akash?” His father didn’t wait for his response. “This boy—he loves you.”

What the...?

“We haven’t exactly said.” Akash tried to disappear into the sofa. “I’m pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic. And whether the words left his lips or not, the man clearly loves you.” His father shot his truth like an arrow straight through Akash’s denial. “Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop biting your lip. It’s a sure sign you’re lying. I don’t even have to see you to know you’re doing it.” His father chuckled when Akash cursed under his breath. “Your mum’s calling for me. Come for dinner this weekend. We miss you. We love you. Don’t ask him about the letter.”

Akash stared at his mobile when the call disconnected. “Right. Parents.”

His evening took a turn toward the bizarre with a text from Scottie, who apologised for being a “boorish twat.” The message included a promise not to badger him for a date again. It ended with a hope they could eventually become friends.

How incredibly extraordinary.

Had Scottie hit his head on something? Suffered a personality change? What in the world had provoked him into saying sorry?

Glancing toward the window to check for flying pigs, Akash opted to accept the apology and ignore the offer of friendship for the time being. He preferred to see if Scottie’s actions proved his words to be true or not. Cordial was something they could both manage without much effort.

A check of his watch informed him Hamish was probably still awake. Akash sent a quick hello text. He stretched out on the couch, getting comfortable to wait for a response. He’d almost drifted off to sleep when his mobile buzzed.

Hamish: Still awake?

Akash: Barely.

Hamish: Sounds like your day has been as long as mine.

Akash: I imagine yours has been worse.

Akash: Two months feel like a century to wait. I’ve run out of ways to say I miss you.

Hamish: I’ve better ways—but you were quite insistent on my waiting.

Akash: I meant it.

Hamish: Fuck. I’ve got to go. Don’t watch the news. It’ll make you stress. You know the thing I can’t tell you? Pretend I’ve already said it.

Akash: Be safe.

Akash immediately turned on the news and grabbed his laptop to open multiple tabs to five different sources. He wouldn’t sleep. He couldn’t until Hamish texted him to say they’d returned safely to where their temporary home was set up.

Gods.

Keep them all safe. I can’t lose him now.