Next day, I wait for four o' clock to hit the clock quickly, and as soon as it does, as promised, Romil's at the door. I jump at the sound and welcome him in. He's in his red and blue basketball jersey. He smiles a small 'Hi' at the door. I 'Hi' him back, watching him balancing himself on one leg as he takes off his shoes one by one.

'Did you bring the notes?' I ask for starters.

He shoots back a pat reply, 'Something better.' He smiles at me impishly before producing a paper bag out of his bag. 'Here, for you.'

'What's that?' My eyebrows scrunch in confusion as I reach for it. It's lighter than I expected, the packaging plain and neat. I pull the box out of the paper bag, my heart picking up pace when I realize what it is. 'Is this... a phone?'

'Quick deduction for a topper,' he smirks, snatching the box back from my hands with a playful swipe. He flips open the top, revealing the unmistakable gleam of a phone from Apple.

'It's an iPhone—' he explains.

'I'm not taking it.' I blurt out, shoving the box back toward him, stepping away as if the thing might explode.

'Why? It saves all the work... I mean—' He shrugs, like he's offering me a sandwich, not a high-end gadget.

'I can't take such an expensive gift, Romil. Take it back. I'm not having it.' I insist, folding my arms, hoping he takes it for an end of discussion.

He watches me, his expression unreadable for a moment before he tilts his head, a slight frown forming. 'It's not even new. It's my old one. It's practically second-hand now.'

I scoff as I roll my eyes, 'Oh, really? Because you just love having a pink iPhone, right?'

He looks at me daringly, his eyebrows scrunching up and before long, he powers on the phone. A ping and a half-bitten apple icon appear on the screen and the phone blinks awake. He punches something on the screen, and before I can stop him, he pulls me close and angles the phone for a selfie—catching my very startled face in the frame. Snap. Snap. He taps the screen a few more times and hands it back to me. 'Here. Now it's second-hand. I'm making an offer on this one.'

I stare at the phone, then at him, still unsure where he's going with this.

His voice drops slightly, more serious now. 'This phone... in exchange for six hours of your time. Every Sunday. Starting tomorrow.'

It's childish-supremacy. Has he seen Nagarjuna's Mass before coming here?

'You're kidding me, Romil!' I flop on the bed, clearly unamused by his old-Bollywood antics.

'I'm serious.' He looks at me earnestly, putting the phone beside me. Before words of protest form on my lips, he kneels down beside me, bringing us to eye level.

'What are you doing?' I ask as he forces my knees together, locking them in place, and looking up at me with puppy eyes, resting his arms on my knees.

He replies, 'Looking at you.'

I shoot back, 'But why?'

He whispers, 'You ask a lot of questions.'

'And you answer none,' I retort, trying hard not to smile.

I fight the impulse to run my fingers in his curls, hold them back, to get a clear look at the masterpiece of his face.

Romil's lips twitch as he leans in just a little. 'Did I ever tell you... you have the world's most beautiful eyes?' It's a question but I don't see the want for an answer in his eyes.

I stare at him, not blinking for the fear of risking the break of the spell. 'You just did.' I mumble.

'Did I tell you that in them, I see a galaxy,' he pauses to take an audible breath in, 'and right in the centre,' he points a finger at my eye, his voice breathy as he exhales slowly. I blink. He continues, 'there is a planet. It's dark and...'

'And?' I breathe out.

'And lonely.' He blinks, a subtle flutter of dark lashes, and he is out of whatever trance he's put between us.

I blink back, frowning slightly. 'I'm not lonely. I don't have time to be lonely.' I say, looking in his eyes, adamant to put up a brave front.

'Then, am I seeing myself in them?' he asks and before I can comprehend the weight of it, he gives me a small albeit sad smile, shakes his head, and gets up.

'Romil?' I ask tentatively, searching his face. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. Yeah, I am. Thanks.' For some reason, he doesn't look me in the eyes again. He ruffles his hair like he's trying to shake off the mood. He gestures at the phone. 'I really want you to have it. It's a token of ... something.'

A laugh escapes my lips. 'A token of something?'

He scratches the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. 'I don't know. It'll help assuage... well, never mind. You won't get it.'

'Oh, really?' I challenge, getting up. 'You know, people usually need to finish sentences if they want to be understood. Stop trying to be so mysterious all the time! It'll help assuage what, exactly?'

He doesn't say anything.

Having nothing to do with my hands, I amble up to the back of the bed, smoothening the cushions. And then my hyperreactive subconscious squints in the corner of my brain. I straighten up. 'Are you in on something related to me that I don't know yet?' I voice out the suspicion.

For a second, I see something dark flicker on his face but he recovers immediately. It almost feels like a trick of the light. He groans dramatically. 'See? This is exactly what I mean. With you, I never get to be mysterious and brooding. I try to pull off the dark-haired-mystery-boy-in-a-hoodie vibe, and then bam—you come in with your questions and just destroy the façade of an over-sharer like me.'

I can't help but smile. 'You really want to be the dark-haired mystery boy, huh? Someone's been reading a lot of Wattpad stories, I think.'

He grins, his eyes sparkling again. 'Maybe I have. Maybe I just want to be the brooding romantic lead for once.' He lies down and stretches out on the bed, propping his head up with one hand, his elbow resting casually against the cushion.

'Oh, gerroff that! I sleep on it!' I exclaim, tackling him as I yank the cushion out from under him. He dramatically clutches his neck, pretending to be wounded, his face twisting into an exaggerated look of hurt. 'Romantic lead, you wanna be, huh? Romantic lead! Look at you!' I laugh, shaking my head as he sprawls back, still holding his 'injury.' 'Well, you're failing miserably!' I add, nudging him lightly with my foot, laughter bubbling up again.

But then, I smile softer, almost to myself. 'You know... I think I like this version of you better.'

'What is this version?' he inquires.

'Oh, so now janaab wants to get all the good stuff out of me, but when it's my turn, I get blamed for asking too many questions, hmm?'

'I just asked this one.' He pulls the puppy-eyed face again, and I pout.

I take a while and admit truthfully, 'This brown-haired-over-sharer-boy-in-a-basketball-jersey version.' I smile and his grin fades into something meaningful. I continue, 'This kind-eyes-unabashed-boy-in-a-school-uniform version. That cool-shade-stunner-in-the-pastel-suit version.' I remember the BTS song Sakshi showed us in the lunch break.

He smiles knowingly, a look of reminiscence crosses his face, 'You looked resplendent that day. We had to wear shades for the sun-work, but I think I was really wearing mine so I wouldn't get blinded by how stunning you looked.' We laugh and he nods as if accepting how cheesy it sounds. 'No, but seriously, your hair, when it came out of the pin...' He meets my eyes and I see something alive shining in his eyes. And then, there's a soft look of displeasure. 'Arjun likes you.'

I open my mouth to respond, but the words don't come. I know Arjun's always been a bit more pleasant with me than with the rest of the fantastic four combined, but I'd always attributed his candour to his naturally genial disposition. The statement that he likes me is a bit hard to stomach.

'He is a friend, Romil,' I manage to say.

'I know, for you.' he says softly, sitting up and taking my hand in his, his thumb gently brushing my knuckles. He looks into my eyes, and I feel a shift in the air between us. 'If I could tell you one sincere thing right now—a confession of sorts,'

He pauses, licks his lips, before saying, 'I was scared so forgive me. I didn't know a thing about you, and not that the knowing has changed anything. I think I realized my feelings that day, when Arjun ran towards the base of the ladder. It felt like a storm was raging inside me. I was jealous of how easily you talked to him. And I'm not lying when I say, I was scared to confront what I felt for you.' His tone shifts, and his words make even less sense than before, but I resist the urge to ask questions, keeping it to a bare minimum.

I look at the way my hands rest in his and settle for the most pressing question, 'Why do you think I'll just assume you're lying?'

He breathes in, shaking his head, 'Don't ask no more. I'll tell you in due time. Achha, you like this version of me?'

I contemplate for a deliberated moment and then say sagely, 'Well, I can tolerate this version.'

Romil's smile softens as he shimmies closer to me, not quite touching, but close enough. 'Good. Because this version isn't going anywhere.'