I stayed inside my room the entire day. I went out for the occasional food but that's it. I brought it back into my room.

Today was supposed to be our day off. I hadn't imagined our day to go like this. I had thought we would have a casual, friendly day in, but no.

Andrew and I were really good at avoiding each other it seemed. And that was funny, because we lived together.

We had never had such a huge fight before. Usually, our fights just ended with one of us laughing at the other or apologising. But this time, there was nothing to laugh about or to apologise for.

The source of my anger was unknown to me. I was annoyed at Andrew. I could not look at his face without wanting to hit him.

So I stayed in my room the entire day.

My mother Skyped me sometime later. I showed her the awards, or at least the one that was in my room, and her face lit up like a Diwali light. It made me feel happy for a while.

"I'm so proud of you, my girl," she gushed.

I gave her a huge smile. "Thanks, Ma." But then I had a thought. "Mom . . . is Dad even the tiniest bit happy that we won two VMAs?"

Her genuine smile immediately turned into a forced one. I did not think she noticed me noticing it. "A little? Oh dear, he's ecstatic."

I couldn't help but snort. "Yeah, right," I said, rolling my eyes.

"What do you mean by that? He really is very happy for you."

"Did he tell you that?" I narrowed my eyes. "Did he actually spell it for you? Did he say that 'I am proud of my daughter?'"

"Well. . ." She was scrambling for words.

"He didn't!" I heaved. "Then why are you giving me fake news?"

"You only asked me, Koko."

"Well, I'm sorry that I asked!" I was yelling now. "I won't ever ask you about my Dad, okay? You're happy now? He was always a shitty dad to begin with."

"Keighlah!" My mom looked appalled. "Don't talk about your father that way!"

"Well then tell him to fucking start behaving like one!"

I cut the call suddenly and at the same time, a knock was heard on my door.

"What?" I screamed.

It opened slowly and Andrew peeked his head inside, almost hesitant. "Are you okay?" He asked cautiously.

"Oh, yeah? I'm having a feast here, why do you ask?" I replied sarcastically.

Breathing out a big sigh, he walked towards and sat down in the bed, turning to me.

"It's about your Dad again?" asked Andrew.

"How long were you eavesdropping on me?"

"I wasn't–" he paused. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. Maybe I was eavesdropping a little bit," he admitted. "But can you blame me? You were literally shouting."

I rolled my eyes and looked away. Andrew gave me a long look, the look that said he was going to give me another one of his inspirational speeches which would bring me no relief.

"I know what's going on with you and your father and I want to help you but I can't if you won't tell me anything. You don't tell me anything!"

Haha, knew it, I laughed darkly at myself and didn't reply.

"I've told you so many times," he continued, "that I'm here for you but you still don't tell me. I understand what you're going through–"

"No, you don't!" I snapped. "You couldn't possibly understand what I'm going through. You have a perfect family life, with your perfectly supportive father and your perfectly  loving mother. You cannot understand what I'm going through."

He pressed the bridge of his nose. Then he looked at me. "Keighlah," he said as he reached for my hand and I slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me!"

"This is getting frustrating," he said and abruptly stood up from the bed. I looked at him with surprised eyes. "I don't even know why you're angry with me, but for some reason you are."

I opened my mouth but he stopped me.

"No," He waved a swift finger at me. "This time I do the talking and you do the listening."

The way he said that promptly shut me up.

"I didn't force myself on you, I didn't do anything with you which you had objected to. What happened last night was fully consensual. So you can't be angry with me. You are borderline overreacting now. You are showing last night's frustration on your mother and now you're showing her frustration on me, and I will not accept it. I always keep telling you that I'm here for you and I mean it, whether or not I hundred percent understand what you go through, but I will try to understand because more than a bandmate, you're my best friend. So quit this childish behaviour and your reticence for once and talk to me like an adult."

I was looking at him with wide eyes. He was angry. Andrew was the calmest soul I had met. He had never gotten angry this bad.

"That's all I have to say," said Andrew with a nod and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

I stared at the empty spot where Andrew was standing for a long time before something clicked in my heart. I called my mother and apologised to her. Then I creeped out of my room quietly. Andrew wasn't there in the living room like I had expected. The only place where he could be then was his room.

The door was ajar and I looked inside. Andrew was lying on his bed with his eyes closed and his earphones in. He was drumming his fingers on his stomach to the song he was listening to.

His words echoed in my mind.

You are showing last night's frustration on your mother and now you're showing her frustration on me.

Andrew was right. He was always right.

I swallowed my pride and quietly slipped inside the room, sitting down on his bed softly. He must have sensed me, because he sat up, took his earphones out, and looked at me with a flat face.

I strung my fingers together. "You probably know why I'm here," I said.

I sucked at apologies. He didn't say anything, he simply looked at me.

I groaned. "Yeah, so. I'm sorry."

He raised one eyebrow. "You're not doing me a favour here by saying sorry–"

"I know, I know! I didn't mean it like that, I just . . . it was wrong of me to—blame this on you, when really there's nothing to blame you for. I'm sorry, it's just—I never imagined that in our entire life we would . . . you know."

"Have sex?"

I closed my eyes tightly, trying not to flinch. "Yeah." I looked at his blank brown eyes ruefully. "Are you still mad at me?"

Andrew stared at me for a while then sighed loudly, looking at his lap. "It's hard to stay mad at you, Keighlah."

That made me a tiny bit happy. "Does that mean I'm forgiven?" I asked.

"Depends. Have you called your mom–"

"—and apologised? Yes, I have."

He shrugged. "Well, I guess you're forgiven then."

I gave him a big grin. "Thanks," I said as I ruffled his hair.

"But," Andrew began. "Promise me that you're going to tell me about anything's that bothering you. Anything. I'm here for you just like you're here for me."

"I'll try," I said, uncomfortably scratching my hand.

"Keighlah . . ."

"Look, I said I'll try," I said gruffly. "It's not easy for me to open up, you know that."

"Yeah, I do." Andrew placed his hands on his knees and sat up straight. "Anyways. I've said this a hundred times, I'll say it a few more times for you–I'm all ears if you need me."

"Thanks," I smiled and lied down on his bed. He lied down beside me and we stared at the ceiling. After a few minutes of silence, Andrew decided to break it—with a disgustingly notorious question.

"So exactly how good was last night?"

"Oh dear," I groaned inwardly.

"I mean," he shrugged. "Am I really that good at sex?" Andrew asked smugly.

I stared at him with an aghast expression. How did his mood do a one-eighty in five minutes?

"Oh, don't worry," he turned towards me and suspiciously wiggled his finger. "You're not too bad yourself."

"Too soon, Andrew!" I hit his head and jumped out of the bed, eager to get away, his laughter surrounding me.

• • •

Next chapter - next Wednesday at 10pm IST.