Song attached: May I by Trading Yesterday. It's raining here and this song is on repeat and as crazy as it sounds, it feels like I'm in some sort of music video with those depressing filters making everything look so hauntingly beautiful. I feel beautiful. Yep, definitely sounds crazy (Edit: This A/N was written like one and a half months back).

Sorry if the chapter sounds off. Life really has been cruel for me and I updated just for the sake of updating so yeah, beware.

s e v e n t e e n

[ b i r t h d a y ]

"This is Varun."

Hearing my name escape Kiranya's lips felt so weird. Now that I think about it, though it's going to be almost a year since I came back, she had never called me by my name. Five or seventeen, it had always been nicknames.

The woman in front of me glanced at a different direction, totally not paying attention to Kiranya.

My eyes drifted to her but didn't expect Kiranya to look that blank. I kind of expected her to look hurt or trying to mask it but there she was, looking blank and accepting.

"Hello," I said in a weak attempt to put more effort in 'getting' to know her mother well.

The woman slowly turned towards me like those ghosts from those creepy Japanese horror films. Surprisingly, the woman stretched her hand towards me and I froze.

Was she seriously trying to shake hands with me?

Kiranya nudged me and with a startled jerk, I grasped her hand. It wasn't cold or hot or anything. Just normal warmth.

"Hello," I repeated, "I'm Varun. Kiranya's... um, friend."

It wasn't like Kiranya always screams at me the word 'enemy!' at the top of her voice but again, it wasn't like she loops her hands with me and sings 'my best friend' from Pokémon three times a day either.

Kiranya coughed but said nothing.

Kiranya's mother suddenly flashed a smile before reverting back to the Japanese ghost pose. But this time, when I glanced at Kiranya, though she remained passive, a part of me knew she was as surprised as me inside.

And by now, you should have stopped trying to question my thoughts. I was as clueless as you when it comes to learning how I knew what went inside that well sealed mind of hers.

The next half an hour went with Kiranya trying to make conversation with her mother. At times her mother responded. Other times she ignored Kiranya like how Kiranya ignores me like I was invisible or something. It felt weird to witness everything. I mean, I was an outsider after all.

"Ready?" Kiranya asked as we gathered our things to leave. "It's time for her Benzodiazepine treatment."

"Yeah.." I dragged as I glanced at her mother.

She was looking out of the window, her eyes fixated on the garden past the corridor outside the window. Like all the other times, warm memories which I didn't even knew survived the stage of growing up, clashed in my mind, each making me drown in her mother's young smile, warm eyes and transparent radiance.

My hands moved on their own accord as I held the older woman's hand, as hesitant as ever.

"Thank you," I whispered.

Her eyes snapped and for a second, she looked normal. The beautiful woman was back instead of the empty shell.

"Thank you?" she whispered back.

I smiled weakly before leaning in and whispered into her ears, "Yeah, thank you for talking to me all those years back."

I was already moving back when a hand ran through my hair. It took me great effort to not flinch back, startled, as Kiranya's mother ruffled my hair. She smiled before pushing me back a little.

"See you."

Kiranya sucked in a breath beside me. I didn't know what made me do that but I grabbed her hand back, squeezing them before smiling back at her mother.

"See you too, auntie."

Kiranya was still too shocked to properly greet her mother goodbye as I dragged her out off there. Her father was standing outside, leaning on his car.

Kiranya and her father weren't exactly back to being a family but the man was trying. And I think she was also trying in her own way. By not trying to murder him or something like that.

The urge to ask what had happened to their family was seriously like a huge itch in my back where my hand couldn't reach but I don't think I can 'win' over the love of this girl by pushing her off a cliff figuratively. I mean, that's what Teen Fiction hotshot hunks did.

Self consciously, I looked down at my not so 'hunky' figure.

Oh well, at least I was blessed in the height department.

"Scoot," a dead voice muttered beside me. Kiranya's forehead was almost brushing my nose as she crossed me and inwardly, I cringed.

So much for being blessed in the height department.

*

*

*

"I'm thinking of all the students!" Boomi said enthusiastically waving her hands all over and in the process, swatting Yuvan's head, whose supposedly threatening glare went unnoticed by Kiranya's fiery best friend.

"Fireworks, the lot! Dance is so hot right now!"

"Did you just quote Harry Styles?" I asked incredulously.

She huffed. "Of course not!" she protested before pausing and tugging a small strand of hair behind her ear, "what if I did? But again, how would you know?"

"Because I like One Direction?"

I mean, c'mon! Cut some slack to us boys who hear boy band songs. It isn't a sin exactly, you know.

"Son, that's so gay," she said scrunching her nose and my eyes automatically glared at her.

Yep, you read it right. I was glaring. What? I've been here for quite some time and since everyone wasn't exactly like characters out of a fairytale where everything was all glitters and happy smiles, I was bound to start developing expressions of displeasure.

See? I even sound so posh.

"That's offensive," I pointed out, "and judgemental. You can't assume people's sexuality based on their music taste and seriously, I don't call you a lesbian when you drown in Taylor Swift's music. And moreover, that's sexist."

Boomi looked at me strangely. "You've changed," she stated.

I simply shrugged.

"And I don't like that."

"Not my problem."

She gasped before hitting Yuvan on his head. "What did you do to my sweet boy?"

"Woman, why are you asking me that?" he grumbled before taking the scribbled paper out of Boomi's hand as he mumbled about concussions.

"Moving on," he started, "what are we seriously going to do for Kiranya's birthday? And no" — he held his palm up, blocking Boomi — "'massive' fireworks are out of the question."

She rolled her eyes but didn't object and once again we settled to decide on how to surprise BookManiac12 for her birthday. It felt strange though. I've known her for so many years. And I've know this wattpad writer for a few years. It's kind of a bad thing that I didn't even know my first friend's birthday but in a different light, it was pretty awesome how I knew my sadistic writer's birthday and even had the chance to celebrate it.

Yeah, I was one of those folks who had too much time in their hands to play over stupid thoughts like this in my mind.

My hands mindlessly strummed my guitar as I heard Yuvan and Boomi shoot other useless ideas when suddenly, an idea which was fifty shades of clichéd and all shades of sappy hit me.

With a grin playing on my lips, I worded my idea to the other two.

*

*

*

I scrolled down Kiranya's wattpad message board, reading the many birthday wishes decorating it. Her replies were as neutral as ever, having simple 'thank you's and other formal words. In a way, I felt bad for some of the people but then, I remembered about myself and even though we were so close, she still replied to me like how she did on wattpad, and in the end, I felt bad for myself.

I should seriously stop throwing pity parties for myself.

My phone chimed, indicating a text message from Yuvan.

Boomi texted that Kiranya got hold of the first post-it — Y

                                                       Sent 9:36 AM

A mild surge of adrenaline rushed through me and I grinned.

And when did you and Boomi started texting? — V

                                                 Sent 9:36 AM

Slipping one hand into my back pocket, I leaned on the tree at the corner of Kiranya's house where I waited that night to see her father. And no, I certainly did not feel like a stalker. Nope.

I ran through my contacts and when Kiranya's name popped up, I swiped it across. She picked up at the third ring but no one uttered a single word.

Her breath sounded heavy and though it might be over-thinking, it felt like she was doing that to let me know she was still on the other side. I chuckled, shaking my head. This girl.

"Happy birthday."

It wasn't meant to be a whisper but it was very well a whisper. There was slight hesitation before I heard her take a breath.

"Thank you."

The silence hung uncomfortably like a wet sock.

"If you don't have anything else to say, I'll hang up," she said and I heard myself cry out a hasty 'wait!'

"Yes?" she said.

Did she, did she sound breathy?

I opened my mouth to say something that would sound cool and leave a lasting effect like, 'thanks for being born and for making my life so bright that it turns me blind, and for making me feel an idiot and a loser, like ninety percent of the time, but then giving that occasional smile that neutralizes all these bitter moments' but suddenly it felt like an imaginary fist was strangling my throat. Closing my eyes tightly, I swallowed.

"Happy birthday again," I said lamely before hanging up.

A few minutes later, both Kiranya and Boomi made their way out of the house, followed by Kiranya's father. From the distance, I couldn't hear what was being said but it looked like her father was trying to say something. Kiranya nodded her head stiffly. She then turned to go out of the gates when her dad grabbed her hand and trust a small box onto her palm.

He uttered something and it doesn't require Sherlock Holmes' mind to figure out that was 'happy birthday' and from the flustered look on Kiranya's face, it was evident that was indeed an awkward birthday wish. She bowed a little before grabbing a confused Boomi and started her motorbike. Even on a birthday, she was dressed in another military print jeans and a plain olive green button down.

When Kiranya was well out of sight, I started walking to her front door. Knocking on the door, I didn't have to wait long since her father opened it at once.

"Varun." He sounded surprised and just like that, I found myself shuffling my feet and looking like a completely pathetic person.

Let me tell you guys, it is never, and I repeat, never easy to talk to your crush's father.

"Kiranya just left," he said and it was evident that he wanted an explanation on why a now seventeen year old guy who has kind of declared his love for his daughter was standing in front of him when said daughter wasn't home.

"I know," I replied wishing he wouldn't ask how I knew.

Her father leaned to the side, leaning fully on the door as he waited patiently.

"Um, uncle..?"

"Yes son?"

I coughed. "I—is... is it okay if I take Kiranya somewhere today?"

His stance didn't change but knowing Kiranya and her family full of poker faces, I was sure that was a well composed defensive pose.

"Somewhere in the sense?"

I swallowed before raising my head up, hoping I looked like some determined kid with his chin up and nose high. "It's a secret."

It all appeared in slow motion as he straightened himself and took a step towards me. Where was the gates again?

"You want a father to let a teenage boy take his teenage girl to some secretive place?"

I pressed my lips together and nodded. "You summed it up beautifully."

"Beautifully?" He scoffed a meaningless laugh. "You really are something, kid."

I broke into a weak grin. "I'll take that as a compliment."

I straightened my back and looked into the older man's eyes. It was something Nanda anna, my favourite cousin, once said. That if we looked into other people's eyes with sincerity and honesty, words aren't exactly required. When he said that, it sounded cool as heck but now that I tried it for the first time, I didn't feel like the most sincere person, let alone honest.

But something in the man's eyes clicked and he nodded before a rough hand shot up to ruffle my hair. He then pulled me close and whispered, "I like you boy. I really do. So don't make me dig a grave that fits your size."

He didn't have to repeat twice as I almost ran out of his house.

Dysfunctional or not, a father was always a father and messing with a girl's father is like asking Hitler, Mussolini and Bin Laden try shooting classes on one's own body at the same time.

Stupid. And dangerous.

~✩~✩✩~✩~

This chapter and the next chapter was written in this chapter but then, it got insanely huge, like 6.5k words huge, I had to break it down to two chapters.

Think of it as a sorry gesture for not updating at all.

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