#idrees the breadwinner x oc

[cicidarkarts]

Joonam - Chapter 1: Stock Duty

Chapter List | Chapter 2 >

He had the cleanest hands of all the employees. Mostly because he obsessed over washing them with a gusto that would leave even the most ardent germophobes wincing. Idrees got a reminder of this whenever his boss sent him to restock shelves, where he had at least an hour to stare at his dried skin and gleaming fingernails. He kept them short so he wouldn't have to think about how they looked with dirt and blood caked under them. He refused offers of lotion from some of the women he worked with because, though it would alleviate the dryness, the sliminess of war-tainted mud made his skin crawl.

He lived in a big tourism area in India now. His workplace was just off the beaten path that they mostly saw locals. Sometimes, he saw a couple of the men he knew from his days in the Taliban; he always conveniently had to check the back whenever he noticed them. If the memories weren't enough to scare him off, their scowls toward him and shitty attitudes toward his female coworkers ensured his retreat. At least the back was quiet and the crappy lights were dim. He didn't have to stare at his hands that never seemed clean enough.

Cleaning duty was the easiest for him, because he had to wear threadbare gloves. The peace and quiet of the back shelves allowed the menial chores to take over the noise of his mind. Just wipe down the shelves and move the cans along, then go to the next shelf. Cans clinked together as he moved, sounds that ensured he could stay present, all while focusing fully on the steps of his task.

“Hey, Idrees,” said the shopkeep as she joined him. “Anush,” he greeted. “How are you doing after the rush?” He looked at her, focusing on that deep scar along her cheek, mustering up as much conviction as he could. “Fine.” “If you need to use my office again—” “I’m fine,” he said, a little snippier than he’d intended.

She went quiet. The perpetual scowl on her face hid a look of sympathy in her eyes Idrees had come to know unfortunately well. He gripped his mop handle and wiped the floors.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I wasn’t trying to—” “It’s okay, you’re gonna be mad at me anyway.” He gave her a defeated look, watching as she pushed down her hijab to slick back her hair once again. She said, “‘Cuz I’m about to put you on stock duty.”

A tension inflated in his chest—pushing against his lungs and sitting on his stomach. He released the building sigh.

“Wish I didn’t have to,” she continued. “But the girls have their hands full after that rush. And there’s a pretty big shipment that just came in, so I need someone on stock duty.”  “Yes, ma’am,” he capitulated.

Lead-legged and hands firmly by his sides, he trudged to the back and through its refrigerated chill. He needed to keep this job. It was just enough to afford the necessities and he couldn’t lose all of that now. Anush had been accommodating for many years and he owed her some amount of loyalty. She once let him bunker down in her office to sit in front of the fan, during a particularly busy shift no less. All the noise had made him think far too much…

As he ripped off his cleaning gloves, exposing his sweaty hands to frigid air, he thought too much once again; about how only the cool breeze and sounds of Anush’s office fan had stopped the racket from overtaking his mind. He grasped the faucet of the utility sink so hard that the skin beneath his nails changed color. He turned the faucet onto a warm setting and got to work scrubbing his hands.

Lathering up, he kept thinking about Anush’s office. She’d offered it to him several times, after once having witnessed him tear his nails across his palms as he cleansed them. The water had been steaming for so long that a thin layer of sweat had dotted his forehead. His stomach clenched when he remembered the look of horror on her stoic face upon seeing his raw, bleeding hands.

So he kept the sink low today, ensuring that Anush wouldn’t panic even if she saw him now. He didn’t want her wasting her sympathy on him anymore. She’d already done so much. Perhaps, though, that was because she didn't know the full story—just that he was forced to fight in a war. If she knew he'd once been a member of a totalitarian, misogynistic regime, he wondered if she'd treat him with less respect and sympathy.

His hand slammed against the faucet to turn it off; he needed to get it over with in as fast a motion as possible. If he didn’t, he feared he wouldn’t know when to stop. The cheap, rough paper towels felt like pumice on his dry skin.

He continued on to the warm air of the warehouse. The smell of fuel from the truck kept his mind off stock duty. Men called to each other, trying to coordinate stacking the dollies and sorting the boxes. A man in a thick, heavy turban dragged a few supplies in on a creaking three-legged dolly. He greeted Idrees with a smile and a wave.

“Anush got you working as stock boy again?” the man teased, scratching at his greyish beard. “Sadly.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead and sat heavily upon a box, which bent and deformed underneath him. “You'll have the back of a seventy year old before you retire.” “So will you.” “Ah, but you're too smart for all of this, eh, Idrees? This was the best I could do.” “That's not true, Nikan. You're not stupid.” “Hey!” called Nikan’s supervisor. “Less talking, more unloading!” “Right,” Nikan said to Idrees. “I'm so smart I'm slacking on the job while Mayur the Dictator is my supervisor.”

Idrees continued about his work as Nikan went to fetch more stock. He strained to transfer the crates onto the stocking cart, then wheeled them out into the store. He could've stayed to chat with Nikan all afternoon if it meant avoiding restock duty. But he did his rounds anyway. It kept him afloat in this city, as far away from his past as he could go.

Though he was content for the most part, he knew it wouldn’t last long. Not with stock duty. It made his mind wander far too much again—about his past and his present. The city offered cars that didn't plume smoke every time they sputtered to life, pristine buildings without graffiti or crumbling foundations, and people living free lives not confined to extremist dogma and laws. It had taken a while getting used to women uncovered, speaking and laughing loudly with their friends, and reading for leisure on dinner dates with themselves. The more he saw their happiness, the more his stomach churned when he remembered the women under Taliban rule.

He never wanted to go back to seeing a woman beaten all because she dared speak in the presence of one of his own. He never wanted to feel like he had to keep his mouth shut or suffer the same fate of the woman being whipped, child in her protective arms, because a Talib caught her in public without a mahram. He never—

His heart was pounding. He focused on a packet of food and read bits of the label. Microwaveable—both in Hindi and bold English letters. “Authentic”. Right. What kind of person who wanted to microwave their dinner cared about authenticity anyway? A tourist, most likely. At least it got him out of his thoughts.

“Excuse me?” someone asked.

He looked over to see a white woman. Not that it was a shock. Her accent gave it away.

“Can you help?” she asked, struggling a bit and overly-enunciating everything. “I speak English,” he said. Her tense posture relaxed instantly. “Oh, thank god. I was seriously gonna make a fool of myself if I kept trying. My Hindi is not up to par.”

Her cheeks turned pink and she readjusted her wire frame glasses. He noticed immediately that the entirety of her being screamed homebody. Tourists that came in often had their hair done and makeup applied (to varying degrees of success), and many had sun-kissed skin. But her unruly hair looked like it only ever saw a brush. Her strawberry blonde roots poked through the black dye, and a blemish here and slightly pocked cheek there showed she didn't spend time primping herself.

“Um, I have a list here.” She lifted up her half-empty hand basket. “Most of the things I’ve found. Could you show me where a few other things are?” “Yes, what do you need?”

She read off the first item on her list which was, funnily enough, the authentic tourist packet in his hand. He gave it to her. She cocked a brow at him until she read the packet. When the realization dawned on her and she giggled, the sound released several days worth of tension from his shoulders. They’d been up against his neck for so long, he’d only just remembered what it felt like to unclench his spine. After she quieted down, his muscles crept back up.

She put the packet in her cart, as well as another style of curry. Her next item was a little more complicated. The spices could be difficult to tell apart without knowing how to read Hindi so he took her to the spice aisle and helped her pick out the proper bottles.

“You trying to make curry?” he asked, putting some turmeric and garam masala in her basket. “Yeah, I am. Figured I'd try something authentic while I'm here.” “And that's why you bought a microwaveable alternative.” “That's for laziness.”

His lips twitched as he picked out a couple of items not on her list but would make her curry better—fenugreek, coriander.

She grinned. “Thank you, I'll give them a try!”

Her brown eyes lit up alongside her smile. She looked and dressed so young it was almost a shock to see her without her mama or baba. He supposed never seeing sunlight could do that to a person.

“Last thing,” she said, reading over her list. “I think I'm just dumb or blind but I can't find your jams.” “They are a bit hidden.”

He took her into the next aisle where an entire floor to top shelf selection of jams awaited her. She fiddled with her glasses, face turning red. 

“I thought you said it was hidden,” she said. “This is staring me right in the face. Look, this one is eye level and it says marmalade on it in English.”

She picked up a jar of orange marmalade just to glare at it. His lips twitched again, pulling back into a smile that felt so alien on his face. Another strange feeling crept up on him, too. Like a little bubble in his chest wanting so badly to break through. He cleared his throat and his lungs relaxed, banishing the oncoming laughter.

“Were you looking for a specific flavor?” he asked.  “Well, I like grape and cherry the most but I want to go outside my comfort zone. Is there something locals prefer?” “Ah, yes, so you can make authentic toast.��� “Exactly!” “Can't go wrong with strawberry or apricot.” “Apricot sounds dope.” He paused and gave her a look. “And that's… good?” “Oh! Um, yeah. Sorry. Your English is really good so I just— am gonna shut up.” She looked away and ran a hand down her hair. “Apricot, please.”

He put an inexpensive but good jar of apricot marmalade in her basket. When their eyes met again, a little tickle of butterflies in his stomach hit him. She was cute, and the fact that she nearly made him break employee character several times was nothing short of a miracle. He wanted to ask her out to dinner, but… He frowned when he thought of how her pretty smile could be marred and dirtied by his filthy, disgusting hands.

“Thank you for the help,” she said. “My pleasure.” “Maybe I'll see you next week!” This made his heavy face lighten. “I hope so.”

They waved their goodbyes and she headed off to one of the cashiers. The cashier, a most annoyingly perceptive woman called Kanta, glanced to Idrees, back to the American, then to him again. She smirked and gave him a wink and a thumbs-up while the American unloaded her basket.

The American noticed Kanta’s gesture and turned back to look at him. Idrees’ face grew hot; hotter as he whipped around the corner and heard the faint sound of them giggling. Was that her flirting? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a pity giggle. 

He tried to continue his restocking duty as normal, which meant more thinking and overthinking. Particularly his interaction with that tourist. Despite her friendly attitude, Idrees knew that she was just being polite. He'd seen his fair share of attempted small talk. The weird part to him was how much he contributed. Typically—he pondered as he unloaded more of his cart—he would find nothing interesting to say back. Holding a conversation with that woman came out effortlessly, like he felt a strong need to keep up with her pace.

“Idrees!” called Anush from across the store. “Yeah?” he called back. “Got some baskets in the parking lot from the rush!” “On it.”

Anush had a way of doing that. She would put him on stock duty, then feel bad about putting him on stock duty and give him a different, menial job. Usually one that involved fresh air. Given the way his palms itched and crept, he welcomed the break.

Idrees headed to the sink and gave his hands another rough washing. His nails dug into his palms to relieve that horrible skittering across his flesh. The harder he pushed, the more he thought about that tourist. She smiled at him, thinking he was a kind and decent man. He couldn't bear the thought of having that smile warp into horror if she ever found out who he really was.

He slammed the faucet off once the steam spread a film of sweat across his upper lip. Then came those damn scratchy towels. Fresh air would indeed do him some good.

Outside in the hot Indian air, Idrees collected several of the store's black handcarts. Where all too many people left their cart out on the asphalt, that American tourist had put hers in the collection bin. He thought about her laugh again. How it made her pretty face light up. He could almost hear her voice. 

“No, really, it's just not a good time for me.”

He perked up his position hunched over a discarded basket. Okay, he really did hear her voice. 

“Ah, is just one night.” That sounded like a man. 

Idrees whirled around to see the tourist at the bus stop near the store. An older man loomed over her, looking at least twice her size. She gave him a grin he recognized instantly. That “I really wish you weren't talking to me but I'm being polite” grin his coworkers had used on many creepy men. The tourist took a step away but the man kept close. 

“I really don't think my boyfriend would like that much,” she said. “He doesn't have to know.” Idrees dropped the baskets and speed walked up to them. When he drew close enough, he demanded, “What's going on here?”

The American whipped around so fast it was a miracle she didn't drop her grocery bags. Her pleading eyes met his, twinkling as though she just found her salvation.

“Babe, you made it!” she said, hurrying up to him with an arm outstretched.

She tossed it around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. He took her other bag and returned the one-armed embrace.

“I was so worried you wouldn’t get off work on time,” she said. “Sorry,” he apologized, trying to sound strong and confident. “I had to stay a little late. You know my boss is a hard-ass. Who’s your friend?” She stayed close to him as she faced the older man. “He was just talking with me, I don't really know him.”

The old man looked between her and Idrees. There were a few grey streaks in his beard but he was large and intimidating. Idrees stood his ground, staring him down, familiar muscles tensing and aching from sedentary use. The rush of memories that hit him made his palms creep and he dug his nails into them.

“Well,” said the man, taking a step back, “you guys have a good one.” “You, too,” said Idrees.

The man scurried off. Idrees kept his arm around her shoulders and he leaned closer to speak privately. 

“You okay?” “Yeah, thank you. That guy was so persistent, he was freaking me out. I told him I had a boyfriend and he just didn't care. Lucky you came along when you did.” “Need me to stay for a while?” She frowned. “I wouldn't want you to get in trouble at work.” He smiled to ease her sour face. “No, my boss is a very nice woman. She'll understand.”

They sat together on the bench. Idrees kept looking over to ensure the man wouldn’t return. 

“So” he said, trying to keep the subject off her encounter, “you're on vacation?” “It's my cousin's wedding. Her fiancée wanted to go back to his home country so I'm here for a few weeks helping to get everything ready. Can't really blame her for wanting to move here. My aunt is a bitch.” “And your boyfriend, is he back home or—?” “Oh, I don't have a boyfriend. I just said that to get that guy off my back. Didn't even work. To be fair, sometimes it doesn't work back home, either.” “Yes, it doesn’t work for my coworkers, either.” “Maybe if these guys tried a different method, women wouldn’t find them as creepy. I mean, that dude wasn’t even worth a date of microwavable curry.”

That finally broke him enough to let out a little chuckle with her. Maybe it was from the odd relief in his muscles, knowing that she didn’t have a boyfriend. Or maybe this liberation came from being out in the open air with no worries of coworkers teasing him. He could almost hear Kanta: “Idrees, I’ve never heard you laugh before!”. His laughter, so foreign in his ears, gave his heart a little jump.

As their mirth faded, she gazed down the street. “And there's my bus. Thanks again for having my back.” “It was no problem.”

He watched her gather her bags. He'd already failed at making a move before. But her earlier embrace still held onto him, warm and relaxing. Seeing her in the bright sun, how it illuminated her face and made her smile glow, loosened up his tongue.

“I'd like to see you again,” he said.

She paused. Her eyes scanned him and he became horribly aware all of his flaws: patchy mustache that he still couldn't grow out, rather long in the face, hair always a messy mop, unibrow that refused to go away even after plucking and shaving, and that chip in his tooth that made him want to hide his smile from her…

He might as well have been naked. He wanted to hide away and put his words back in his mouth. But then she smiled and bit her lip, and all of that withered away under the sun. Her cheeks turned that wonderful, cute shade of pink and she twirled a lock of her hair.

“Do you have a pen?” she asked.   He retrieved it from his vest pocket and she tore off a bit of her paper bag. She wrote something down on it then handed it to him. 

“Here's the number to my hotel room. You should call me sometime.”

She stood up and hailed the bus. When she turned to grab her bags, he wanted to say goodbye, but realized he didn't know her name.

“I'm Idrees,” he blurted out, feeling kind of stupid after he realized it was on his nametag (then stupider still when he remembered she couldn't read Hindi). “I'm Cece. It was nice meeting you, Idrees.”

She collected her bags and boarded the bus. A few others went in behind, none of them being the old man. She took a window seat near him and waved goodbye, her face bright and smiling, washing away his insecurities and leaving his mind hazy with bliss. He waved back—too stunned to do anything else—and watched as the bus took her away.

[woundztab]

MY THE BREADWINNER OC!!

[sofisworld]

here is idrees with Sofia my oc! idrees and Sofia used to date but they got married so technically Sofia is idrees's wife 🙂👍

[cicidarkarts]

Joonam - Chapter 2: Noon Chai

< Chapter 1 | Chapter List | Chapter 3 >

He picked up the phone and held the receiver in his slick hand. The dial tone bleated at him. Part of him wanted to take it as a warning, telling him not to call, telling him not to drag her down into his mess. But she'd only be around for a couple of months. Anything that he dragged her into would be left in India after she was gone. At least, he hoped that would be the case as his quivering fingers input her hotel number.

He sat at his dining table, trying to keep his breathing steady as he waited through those shrill rings.

“Hello?”

It was her. His heart felt like it stopped working. His lungs stiffened like they were being crushed. He took a breath and everything worked once more. But now he'd waited too long to answer, hadn't he? His tongue flopped uselessly. He tried to force his words by first clearing his throat. 

“Hey,” he said, heart jumping at how high pitched he sounded. So he opened up his throat and lowered his voice until he found his normal cadence. “Hey. It's Idrees.” “Oh, hey! My hero! Finished helping old ladies cross the street and rescuing kittens from trees just in time to check up on me.” He wanted so badly to match her energy, have a conversation light and playful, but his unpracticed voice was weak and made his stomach lurch. “I have a very busy schedule.”

Her responding giggle made his nerves relax yet again. That laugh. He would have to hear it more. It was like getting a relaxing massage, or eating those first few bites of a delicious meal, and the aftermath kept him floaty and light.

“I called because, uh,” he started, hoping and praying that he'd keep up with her. “I actually cleared my, er, good Samaritan schedule and was thinking, um…” The steam was running out and fast. His nerves out lasted his vocal chords and he trailed off.  “You wanna go out sometime?” she asked.  He shot up straight and bashed his knee into the table. He bit down the pain to avoid it coming through in his voice. “Yes. I'd really like that. Was hoping soon since you won't be here for too long.” “Yeah! Tomorrow?” Somehow, his knee didn't hurt at all. “That would be great. I get off at four. There's this really small tea shop I like to go to called Noon Chai. It's, um, authentic.” “Ooh, now you're talking. I'd love to go, Idrees.”

With the shock of getting her number gone, he took in how she pronounced his name. She didn’t have a roll to her R, the I was much gentler—her pronunciation was clumsy and cute. He wanted to hear it from her lips and accent again and again. And hopefully he would very soon. He gave her the location and they agreed to meet up at 4:30.

“Great,” he said, his nerves betraying him with an anxiety-laden chuckle. “I can't wait.” Oh, he was coming on too strong, wasn't he? “Sounds like fun! I'll see you tomorrow. Bye, Idrees!” That smile in her voice as she said his name had his hands soaked with sweat. He pushed through his constricted throat. “Bye, Cece.”

She hung up and he tossed himself back against his chair. His landline fell to the floor as he gazed at the ceiling in disbelief that their conversation truly happened. Not even that throbbing pain in his knee would bring him down. 

Idrees sat outside the tea shop on their crappy patio. Two chairs and what was basically a crate—“Al fresco” some tourist had called it. And when he found out what that meant, one of the employees, his friend Manu found it so hilarious that the nickname stuck.

But his memories and the warm breeze could only keep him occupied for so long. It was already almost 5:00 and they were supposed to meet at 3:30. Why hadn't she shown up yet? Had she forgotten? Even though they'd just spoken about it less than 24 hours ago…

His hands prickled. He couldn't blame her. Not just his unruly hair or unmanageable unibrow—his entire being radiated remnants of his past. He'd come to learn that women could sense that sort of thing. Cece was no different, surely. She felt his sins and decided it was best to never show back up in his life again.

Or worse, she was battered and broken on the ground, somehow, someway. His palms crept and his hands quivered. Some man hurt her; some man saw her—vulnerable and weak—and did horrible things, and he wasn’t there to stop it. He thought back to that creep at the bus stop. If he hadn’t been there— 

His hand shot into his pocket and snatched his bottle of sanitizer. His palms tingled like bugs crawled through his flesh. He doused them in the sanitizer and scrubbed, getting all over his dry palms and between the stiff webs of his fingers. The strong odor of alcohol wafted about him, familiar, safe, furthering the ease of his mind. His skin calmed. He glanced through the window to the clock again. 5:00.

Idrees sighed. No, she had to be okay. He'd just set his sights too high, that was all. If he'd just kept his head down and his mouth shut, he wouldn't have had to face her rejection. But he’d forced her hand, and now… He shifted forward in his seat, preparing to stand—

“Idrees!” called Cece.

His gaze shot up. She jogged toward him from the street, waving and smiling. And bouncing. If only time slowed down like on television. Yet he was still able to take in so many of her features in those short moments. Her thick locks flying behind her, her eyes shining bright beyond her glasses, and a poorly fastened shawl that slipped down her shoulder.

“I'm so sorry I'm late!” she said, reaching him and trying to fix her shawl. “The bus broke down and they said they were sending a new one and ten minutes passed and— Anyway, I walked here, so sorry if I look like a mess.” “It's fine. I'm just glad you're okay.”

She beamed and absently readjusted her scarf. Her unruly hair was a bit wild from her run but she fixed it after a couple of passes with her fingers. Thank goodness she hadn't stood him up or—he tried not to even think about it—gotten hurt. The date could've easily been him admiring her here in the street as she giggled and talked and ran her hands through her hair, but he figured that'd be a pretty lame date for her. So he motioned toward the cafe and followed her inside. 

The small building wasn't the most remarkable, as the stone floors were a bit dusty and the monotone bronze furniture a little cramped, but it was as local and authentic as she could get. The smile never left her face so he hoped she was enjoying it and not just being nice.

“Hey, Idrees!” The cafe owner, Kalidasa, called to him in Hindi.

Idrees greeted him back as he pulled out a chair for Cece to take. He sat across from her. There were menus on the wooden table in a little cubby and he took it out to read the options to her. Just a few minutes later, Manu approached their table.

“Hey, Idrees,” Manu greeted in Hindi. “Getting the usual today?” “Yes, and my friend will be ordering, too.”

He motioned toward Cece. Manu gave him a funny look and glanced over as if this was a joke, only to do a double take when he saw her. He smirked at Idrees, then gave a little bow to Cece.

“Ah, sorry, my English… not very good,” said Manu. “I didn't realize Idrees has… friends.” “Yes, yes,” said Idrees in English, too. “I get it.”

Cece gave Idrees a most sympathetic sort of smile—the same kind of smile he’d gotten far too often at work. He avoided her eye and stuck his nose instead into the menu, despite knowing exactly what he was going to get. When Cece tried to give her order in supremely botched Hindi, Manu struggled to keep it together. Her face was red halfway through. 

“I'm sorry,” she said in English. “I'm trying my best, I had to learn Hindi in less than a month.” “No, no,” said Manu. “Is not bad. Better than some tourists. You should hear some of the crazy—”

Kalidasa yelled at Manu to get back to work so Manu ensured their order was right and left to wait on another customer.

“Wow,” said Cece. “They all know you here.” “I come here now and again.” “It's been five years!” Manu called in English.  Kalidasa snapped at him again.  “Five years, huh?” asked Cece. “The tea here must be delicious.” “Well, when you don't have time to make your own tea, you end up coming to holes-in-the-wall. But I figured it's as authentic as it gets.” “Yeah, this is really cool! Going to a place that you know well is way more interesting than going to some shitty tourist trap.”

Their tea came out first and Manu teased Idrees in Hindi about his “unending smile”. Cece giggled behind her hand. Idrees gave him a dirty look and lightly kicked his shin, wanting to remind Manu that Cece did know some Hindi. But Manu already had an awkward expression and was scratching at his nose. He clearly got the uncomfortable message before heading back out to work. Occasionally 

“Not very smiley?” she asked.  He stirred a sugar packet into his Assam tea. “What makes you say that?” “Well, your coworker for one. She told me you rarely smile for anyone.” His face grew hot and his heart leapt. “Did she now…” “Oops, did I get her in trouble?”

Though he knew it was a simple joke, there was still a part of his brain that couldn't stand the notion of it. He tried to laugh it off, but he guessed his chuckle sounded forced or uncomfortable given the way her grin fell. They thankfully had no chance to discuss it as Manu returned with their food.

Cece looked too adorable with her overflowing excitement. He hadn't found much joy in the food and tea here lately, but his apathy slowly dissipated in the wake of her enthusiasm. That zest for trying new things would rub off on him, he feared. The way her eyes sparkled as she devoured her raj kachori—a far cry from his classic and rather boring dal chawal—wasn’t helping.

“This is so good!” she gushed, a cheek still stuffed. “So much better than takeout where I’m from. I’m so jealous; India seems way cooler than America.” “I wouldn’t know since I don’t know anything about America.” Which wasn’t exactly a lie. He hardly thought warring troops taught him anything substantial about American life. “Do you like living in India?” she asked between crunching bites of food.  “Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “It's fine. Peaceful enough where I live. Is it peaceful where you live?” “Oh, it's gorgeous. Forest all around, off the main road, so I'm surrounded by nature. It's the only place I can stand living.”

It was so strange to him seeing someone revel in solitude. He couldn't think of anyone else who would willingly isolate themselves. Whenever he trapped himself alone in his apartment, his mind wandered far too much. Having someone beside him, to distract or even console him, sounded like too much of a blessing to throw away. Though even he had to admit the constant chattering and bike engines humming grated in his ears on some of his worst days. 

“Besides,” she continued, “it’s best for me to live alone. No one wants to hear my terrible singing.” “I do!” called Manu as he passed. “Are you any good?” Idrees asked. Because if you're not—” “Hey, woah, woah, I'll have you know that I'm incredible. Here, listen to this, you nonbeliever.”

She proceeded to sing the worst rendition of a kid's song he'd heard, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Luckily, just the first few lines. Even though it sounded terrible and grated in his ears—and a customer that walked in during it walked right back out—and it made Manu slow clap in the silence that followed—there was something endearing about it. Idrees couldn't imagine singing so poorly and off-key on purpose without some mastery over his voice that he didn't possess. Still, he joined in Manu's mocking slow clap.

She bowed her head. “Thank you, thank you, you're a wonderful audience.” “You're scarin’ my customer off!” called Kalidasa in Hindi. “Sorry,” she apologized, holding down a giggle with her cheeks turning red.

But the customer peeked his head back in.

“That was… great,” said Idrees.  “Thanks! Been honing my skills for a long time.” “What, like five minutes?” She laughed, and it gave his stomach butterflies to be the funny one for a change. “No, try twenty-some years. I've always loved to sing. Bet that made my mom real happy, given she named me Cecelia after the patron saint of music or some shit. Wanted me to sing in our church choir. She's lucky I love a captive audience.”

Maybe it was the way she cussed a lot, or that she was dressed in all-black despite the scorching weather, but Idrees couldn't imagine Cece at a church. The very thought of it made his palms creep and tingle.

“So you're religious?” He must've been on fire today because she laughed again. “No way, and it drives my mom insane. Nah, I've always been ambivalent to that sort of thing. That said, I can sing a mean Noel.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed hold of her straw. “It's a curse.”

There was a lull in the conversation as she drank. He didn't really know what ambivalent meant, but her not being religious sounded about right. She didn't seem the type to care. Weight that had crept up on his chest disappeared then, letting him breathe a bit easier, but that tingling was still there. He tried to will it away, tried to ignore it, but then…

“What about you?” she asked. “Figure we already went there. Are you religious?” “I…” His palms crept and the tingling traveled up his arms. He couldn't ignore it. It would overtake him if he tried. His hand dove into his pocket and he grabbed the hand sanitizer. He squeezed about half a palmful out. “I don't know.”

Her playful face fell to a frown and her eyes wandered as she took another sip off her straw. He couldn't blame her. Who would want to watch his shame? Who would want to observe that his only salvation, the only thing that kept his body and mind calm, was the sanitizer—its fumes, its feeling. But before he had a chance to put it away, Cece came back to him with a gentle smile.

“I completely get it. It's touchy, right? We can talk about something else. Something more interesting, like…” She assumed a cute thinking pose—finger under her chin, eyes gazing toward the ceiling, slightly squinted as though in deep thought. Only to then bust out, “What's your favorite animal?” “Oh. Umm…” Such a simple question caught him off guard. He'd never really thought about it. The longer he hesitated, the more his mind shriveled up, barren of all thoughts except how silly this must've looked. “Dogs, I guess.” “Dogs? Really?” “Hey, what's wrong with dogs?” “Nothing!” she said, giggling. “I love dogs but that's such a basic answer! Cats and dogs; so boring!” He side-eyed her, trying hard not to smile (and probably failing). “Okay, if you're so unique, then what's your favorite animal?” “Oh, that's easy. Hyenas!” “You know what, somehow that makes a lot of sense.” “And what's that supposed to mean?” “Hyenas are weird. You're weird.” He shrugged as though the logic was so obvious. “Of course you'd like them.” She leaned across the table with a playful smirk upon her now even cuter pink lips. “Oh, so you think you know me?” “I think I could make some educated guesses.” “What kind of music do I like?” Fuck, another hard question. “Uhhh… What's that one, where they all sing in those nasally voices…” “Emo!?” “Yes, that!”

She cackled so hard that she briefly was a hyena.

“I can't believe you!” she said, hand over her chest as though highly offended. “First of all, the answer is ‘all of it’, and second of all, I've never been emo in my entire life! Teenage me preferred metal.” “The screamy stuff?” “Yes, the screamy stuff.” “How can you sing to screamy stuff?” “Observe.” She took a deep breath. “No!” He put his hand up to shush her. “I believe you, please don't demonstrate!”

He'd never laughed like this in… Ever! His inexperienced ribs were sore, inexperienced lungs short of breath, and his inexperienced cheeks hurt. He hadn't realized how loud they had gotten until Manu—his brow upturned and his lips pursed into a smirk—cleared his throat at them as he passed. That's when Idrees noticed the two other customers had been looking at them: two lone men he'd seen frequent the shop before. One smiled, amused at least, but the other scowled as he held his book closer to his nose.

Cece and Idrees shushed each other, lowering their jubilance to soft giggles instead. Their conversation continued from there, much less loud but no less enjoyable. Idrees was sure his face would be hurting tomorrow but his entire body felt so light, like he was practically floating off his seat. It wasn't until there was a lull in the conversation and Cece glanced around the room did she suddenly say,

“Shit, what time is it?”

Idrees noticed then, too, that the sun no longer streamed through the windows. He checked the clock above the kitchen.

“It's after eight already,” he said. “I'm sorry, Cece, I didn't mean to keep you out so late.” “It's no big deal, just that I have to get up at the ass crack of dawn to go to a wedding rehearsal. So I need to get to sleep soon or I'm going to be cranky.” “Not a morning person?” he asked, motioning for Manu to come over with the check. “Not a people person, really.” “You've been nice to me, what are you saying? Am I not people?” She smiled. “You're one of the only tolerable people I've met.”

Manu set the check down and Idrees really didn't want to see the numbers. They hadn't ordered much but still, his budget wasn't very big, she’d ordered something a bit more expensive, and double the usual bill made his bank account ache. 

Cece pulled out her wallet. “I’ll pay for my half.” “No, I was the one to ask you out, so…” “I can pay for my own portion, Idrees, really. I was planning on it anyway.” “I would rather pay.” She eyed him up, face soured. “Are you sure?” “I’m very sure.” “Okay… I really don't mind splitting the bill, though.”

He could've let her help. He should've let her help (especially given that incredible eye roll she gave him). But the man always paid for dates. The man always provided. So, without looking too closely at the bill, Idrees let Manu swipe his card. He was going to be sorry later when he saw the dwindling numbers of his savings.

As they exited the restaurant, Idrees noticed how dark the sky had become. Knowing Cece was going to be alone on the bus, alone walking back to her hotel, made his stomach uneasy with acid.

“You want me to drive you?” he asked.  “No, I'm going to take the bus. 

The bus? His hand went in his pocket. Did he give off a weird feeling? He grasped his hand sanitizer. No, maybe she was just cautious… He squirted out a palmful of it, the bottle nearly empty from today. Maybe she thought he was a creep or something. He rubbed the sanitizer in and focused on the scent and the way it burned his dry skin.

“I don't mean to be pushy,” he said as the bus stop came into view. “Not at all,” she said. “It was generous of you to offer. Maybe next time I'll take it.”

His stomach fluttered. He'd never heard words as reassuring as “next time”.

“Want me to stay with you until the bus comes?” he asked when they reached the stop. “That would be great, actually. It's pretty dark out.”

There weren't others around, and businesses along the road had their lights on, but he didn't want to risk it. Even if nothing happened, his unrelenting thoughts would consume him. He didn't want their date to be over anyway. If she could spend several more hours talking to him, he would let her.

“You seem like you've got good friends,” she said. “Manu, Kanta. Even your boss, you said she was nice.” “Oh. I guess I do. I never really thought about it. I've only spent time with Manu. We go to the Temple together sometimes.” Her eyes lit up like he said something incredible. “That sounds so cool. I've never been inside a Temple before.” His invitation slipped out before he could hold it back. “Maybe that could be one of our dates, then.”

Once he said it, he got a jolt of embarrassment that made his heart jump. Presuming they would have not only one more next time, but multiple next times, had him looking ahead to avoid her eyes.

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe it could! I was thinking I really wanted to go to the popular bazaar first, though. That one in the middle of the city.”

He tried to suppress his grin so he didn't look like an absolute simpleton. She already had plans for another date. His voice was completely gone. Luckily, he wasn't made to talk again as the headlights of the bus came up the road. Cece hailed it before turning to him. 

“Thanks for such a great night. I had a lot of fun.” “Me, too. I don't want to overstep, but could you call me when you get back? I want to make sure you're okay.” “Yeah, I still have your number from last night. I'll give you a call.”

She opened her arms up and stepped a bit closer. He swallowed the lump that formed at the back of his throat. She just wanted a hug. Right? She didn’t want him to do anything more. Even though a desire to kiss her invitingly moonlit lips burned hot in his core… 

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she leaned against him. He embraced her soft body. Time stood still in that moment. The bus never drew closer, the moon never moved from its position high above them; all that he noticed was her rhythmic breathing and the gentle smell of her hair up close. He wanted to hold onto her warmth for the rest of the night. That tingling on his palms had gone, banished by her presence and the promise they would see one another again.

It was this reassurance that allowed him to release her. They said their goodbyes as she boarded the bus. He watched it drive down the road, taking all the light away with it. It felt like the darkness crept around him like little paranoid tendrils that whispered in his ear. How he didn’t deserve someone to care for him. How he was going to be all alone. How, one day, his shitty life would tear Cece down.

[cicidarkarts]

Joonam (Chapter List)

Summary: Idrees grapples with his past identity and the war he's witnessed. Fettered by fear and anxiety, he isolates himself and ruminates on all of his mistakes. But when he meets a tourist and falls in love with her, he's forced to confront everything that keeps him suffocated. cw: trauma, religion, ocd rituals, blood, violence, sex, abusive/toxic relationships: 18+

Chapter List

Chapter 1: Stock Duty Chapter 2: Noon Chai Chapter 3: The Bazaar

[cicidarkarts]

Self-ship Halloween, don't mind if I do~ <3 Gomez Addams is the perfect man, and Idrees... maybe not so much but here we are anyway :D

[cicidarkarts]

Oh my god I forgot I drew this a few months ago holy shit 😭 Back when I was trying to figure out how to draw Idrees 😭 Lord beer me strength

[cicidarkarts]

ok, I just came up with knew idea 💡 for more Idris from The breadwinner art! What if you drew Cici comforting Idris through an anxiety attack? I mean if that’s ok with you

Here we go! Some lovely comforting and cuddling Idrees <3 I hope you like it as much as I do!

[cicidarkarts]

Oh my god CiCi not another shitty self-insert comfort piece because your mental health is garbage...

You guys know I'm still on my Idrees brain rot, no shock there if you've been following me for even just a week.

[sofisworld]

I made idrees and my oc Sofia, Sofia stole idrees shirt and wears it, idrees had to go to work and didn't find his shirt untill he sees Sofia wearing it, he got annoyed and said this

[sofisworld]

Which ship is better?

First ship: Brick x idrees 🥹

Or

Second ship: Sofia x idrees 🌺

(This is quite funny 🤣)

[cicidarkarts]

Joonam - 3: The Bazaar

< Previous Chapter | Chapter List | Next Chapter (coming soon!) >

Once home, he finally assuaged his prickling and uncomfortable skin. He stood over his kitchen sink and lathered up his flesh, up to his elbow to cut the feeling off before it got worse. The steamy water, just hot enough to gnaw away at the first layer of skin, let tension slip off his shoulders.

He took time to reflect on his first date in… he didn't want to remember how long. Should he have kissed her at the end? Now she was going to think he was stupid or uninterested. He briefly imagined their goodnight phone conversation involving him shouting “I'm both intelligent and really into you!”, just to set the record straight. But embarrassment made him recoil at the thought. No, he would show his interest by trying to set up another date. Simple.

When the phone rang, he rushed across the room to snatch the receiver, then tried to sound calm.

“Hello?” he answered. “Idrees? It's me. I made it back okay.”

The sink still spewed water behind him, the ill-gotten suds disappearing down the drain, flushed away never to be thought about again, so long as he could hear her voice and know she was safe. His arms itched from the drying soap still sitting upon them but that felt much better than the roach-skittering of his nerves.

“I'm glad to hear that,” he said. “I hope I wasn't too pushy…” “Not at all, I thought it was so sweet. I don't know if I've ever gone on a first date where he wanted to make sure I got home okay. It was very thoughtful.” He gripped the receiver tight, his mind floating along her serene voice. “It just seemed right.” “I really need to get to bed early, though.” “Yes, your rehearsal is eight tomorrow morning.” “Damn, man, did you have to listen so closely? Don't remind me!”

He shared another laugh with her, like she'd gifted it to him wrapped in a beautiful box. He held onto that present as they said goodnight, and carried it with him through his evening routine. He opened the box one more time as he lay in bed, thinking about her, and how she made him feel… Normal. He held his extra pillow in one arm, keeping it against his chest and trying to pretend it was Cece laying beside him.

Manu was very good at keeping secrets. None of Idrees’ co-workers seemed to know a thing about Cece. Or, if they did, they were charitably quiet about it. As he went about his duties cleaning the store, he kept his mind light with thoughts of Cece and how their conversation that evening might go. He looked to the clock to count down the time until he got off work. His stomach flipped when he saw he was halfway through his day and he'd not scrubbed his hands at all.

“You seem peppy,” said Kanta as she passed by with a large box in her arms. “I am,” he agreed. She stopped and faced him, her brow cocked, half-lidded eyes looking him up and down. “Mm, you got a girlfriend, didn't you?” “Well, I dunno about that…” “Oh, please, it's all over your face! Ooh, don't tell me it's that cute American from the other day! Idrees, you sly bastard.” He fidgeted, eyes falling to the shelf beside him. He wanted to deny it, but he knew he must've looked guilty—his face was so hot that he was sweating a bit, and his lips were pulled up into that unfamiliar smile. “Well… Yeah. We went out last night.” “Aw, that's so romantic,” she teased. “Way to go.”

Mercifully, Kanta left without another word. Now the whole shop would know but… He supposed that wouldn't be so bad.

He’d never been so giddy to get off work—there was a bounce to his step all the way home, rather than dragging himself back with the weight of the world crushing him down. Despite the rumbling in his stomach, his first instinct when he got home and put his keys and wallet on the side table was to grab his landline. He dialed Cece’s number without missing a beat and held the phone up to his ear while he searched his fridge for something quick.

“Hello?” she answered after a couple rings. “Hi, Cece, it's me. Just wanted to see how the rehearsal went today.” “Hey, Idrees! Went all right. Donna can be a bit of a Bridezilla. Er, meaning she's a little overbearing. Her sister wore some flashy eye shadow today and Donna flipped out saying she better not wear that kind of makeup on her wedding day. Then she got on my ass about wearing no makeup. Like, what the hell do you even want, Donna?” “I'm not really seeing the part where it went all right.” “Free food.” “There it is.”

She laughed again, a sound he'd been dying to hear all day. He joined her, letting that familiar unfamiliar smile bust out from ear to ear. A little bit of leftover rice went down the hatch. He didn't care that it was cold and clumpy as long as he got to chat with Cece.

It seemed only natural that they conversation veered into their next date—that bazaar she’d mentioned. It was such an overcrowded, overstimulating experience that he never wanted to go there. But with Cece? He would risk it just to be with her.

The next morning, Idrees pulled up to the bazaar parking lot about ten minutes early. He waited for her near the bus stop. The first bus that showed didn't have her on it, but he reminded himself that he was still early. Even that reassurance didn't stop his intrusive thoughts from proclaiming she'd gotten hurt somewhere, which in turn made his palms creep, which then made him slather sanitizer on his hands. Someone walking past gave him a wide berth. Between the smell and him possibly looking insane pacing near the bus stop, he figured anyone in their right mind would give him more than ample personal space.

The second bus that showed did have Cece, however. She beamed and waved to him, still struggling with that golden shawl she wore but didn’t seem to know how to use from their first date. When she got close enough, she held her arms out for a hug. He tossed his arms around her and pulled her warm, soft body into his chest. He’d been waiting for this for so long. The willpower it took to let her go and not hold her all day…

“I missed you yesterday,” she said, giving him another round of butterflies. Those big genuine eyes and pink cheeks assured him she meant it. “I tried to tell my family about you but I think most of them think you're a figment of my imagination or something.” “How can you be sure I'm not?” “Don’t give me an existential crisis today, dude.” She held onto his hand as they headed toward the bazaar. “You ever been here?” “Once. Kinda. It was a bit much so I left after a few minutes.” “Well, we can be brave together.”

And brave the bazaar they did. It was large, full of people (and several bands of macaques), with beige buildings, and stone under their feet. The colors of the stands that stood out. Though most of them had the same white canopies, their wares of clothes and food and spices were an array of colors that had Idrees firmly holding Cece’s hand.

Was holding her the only reason his palms didn’t itch? Or maybe her sharing in his anxiety made him feel less outcast than he would’ve if he’d tried to come alone. Still, Idrees kept himself present and sane just by holding Cece's hand. She had him gripped pretty tight at first, but as they kept walking and looking through the various stands, her fingers loosened. It was bittersweet to have her release him, leaving his hand so cold without her… But her confidence was infectious.

Somehow, Cece found more things of worth upon the ground than she seemed to at the stands. It seemed like every time he turned around, Cece was scouring the ground for something else. At first, he thought maybe she'd found loose change, until he saw that she had a rock in her hand instead. Why she then stashed it in her pocket, he had no idea.

They explored an art stand where the owner had painted many dogs and cats in various human activities and Arabesque attire, yet all the colors and sights didn't keep Cece as invested as a feather she'd found nearby.

“Look, Idrees!” she said, proudly showing off the blueish-grey hued feather. “Ooh, it's such a pretty color. I wonder if a swamphen dropped this!” “I would have no idea,” he said.

She reached into the front of her shirt and pulled a plastic bag out of her bra. As she bagged it and stuffed it back into her shirt, he couldn't help but finally break and laugh.

“What?” she asked. “You just— You're very you. It's kind of impressive.” “What is that supposed to mean?” “You literally have two rocks in your pocket and a feather in your bra.” She pouted at him as though highly offended. “So?” “Nothing,” he said, unable to stop himself from chuckling. “I just think it's cute.”

Her sour face turned into an adorable smile alongside radiant pink cheeks. It was impossible not to be blown away by her expression and tone. There was something amazing about that. Maybe because he hadn't laughed and smiled in such a long time, every crack stuck out to him. She had a way about her—strange, endearing, vibrant. If they spent the whole afternoon picking up pebbles and feathers and who-knows-what else, it would be the best date he'd ever had.

The bustle of the bazaar didn't pierce his ears and assault his eyes this time, and he found himself perusing stands under the shade of their canopies. Sometimes Cece would be right behind him when he looked at someone's wares, only to then be at a totally different stand when he turned back around. How she moved so fast in what felt like a second or two, without even tripping over the brazen monkeys that liked to dart out onto the footpath, he didn't understand. Yet her enthusiasm was nothing short of energizing and exciting.

One such time happened while she was looking at spices, breathing them in, crinkling her nose in the cutest way. He may have gotten too close, as the spices tickled his nose and threatened a sneeze. He turned away to rub his tingling nose on his sleeve, then turned back to find she'd yet again wandered to the next stand over. This one was a shawl shop. As he headed her way, he noticed the darzi eyeing her.

“You'd look so lovely in this!” the darzi said, holding up a blue shawl that would bring out her dark brown eyes. “You think so?” asked Cece. “Oh yes, but then any of my shawls would look good on such a pretty young lady.”

Cece took the shawl and held it up to her face to examine it. When Idrees walked up beside her, she beamed at him and showed him the shawl.

“What do you think?” she asked. “It would look great on you,” he agreed, tossing a glance to the owner. The darzi's eyes lost their gleam.

From there, he was a bit more hands-off. This let Cece find her own way and search through the shawls herself. She ended up picking a different buta-filled green, jewel-toned that fit well with her black clothes and dyed hair. The darzi smiled brightly at her as she walked away, but that smile faltered into uneasiness when Idrees passed by.

Oddly enough, Idrees wasn't jealous or upset like he imagined he might have been. Maybe because Cece seemed oblivious. Yet, with him, she picked up on his interest without issue. He looked down at her as they walked, watching her pull her previous shawl off and struggle with putting the new one on properly.

“Here,” he said, “let me help.”

He stood behind her and tied the shawl around her small shoulders. Her long hair got caught under the fabric. Before he could talk himself out of it, he scooped her hair in his hand, feeling the silky locks run across his palm as he freed them, incredible and soft, tickling his skin and giving him a small rush down his spine. His fingers gingerly detangled her hair and the scent of her shampoo dispersed—a slight herbal, flowery scent, and an even slighter smell of fruit. He let her hair fall and watched it bounce and sway and gleam in the light through its multiple wavy layers.

She turned to face him and grinned. “Thank you! People usually wear these up to protect from the sun, right?”

She flipped the loose bit of shawl over her head and his heart dropped. He saw her covered, oppressed, underfoot, gazing up at him with big, terrified eyes—

“Idrees?”

His mind bolted back to reality. The whiplash stole his voice and he skittered along his tingling palms. He tried to take in her confusion and true features. Not like the women of his home. Not like the little girls he almost killed. No. Not like that…

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I-I… Yes, I'm okay.”

His voice came out weak. It only seemed to concern her more, her brow creasing, her eyes examining him. She pulled the shawl down, letting it rest along her shoulders and back once more, and flicked her hair into place. He rubbed his palms on his sides, trying to get the creeping itch to leave him alone. The last thing he wanted was to have Cece worry over him again.

So he tried to smile and play it off as the overwhelming nature of the bazaar getting to him. She offered to sit together near the outskirts, still very much in the crowd but more off to the side. The bench wasn't comfortable—metal dug into his ass—but he was with Cece and his hand stopped creeping toward the sanitizer in his pocket.

“It is kind of a lot,” Cece agreed. “Right. But you're having fun?” “Yeah!” She grinned. “I'm having a great time. Are you?” “Yes, a very great time. Did you want to get some food? I've been hearing your stomach growl for the past five minutes.” “I guess we probably should eat.”

The food trucks weren't far off the main area, and a ton of locals and tourists alike were already lined up. They tried to pick out a truck to visit after Cece rejected the idea of curry because she was “sick of eating curry”.

Once they ordered food, they squeezed in beside some strangers at one of the picnic tables. Not that Idrees minded her needing to almost sit in his lap just to fit. She was squished between him and the older lady beside them. Cece tried to have a conversation with the woman, but she only spoke Hindi and Cece struggled to keep up.

“She says you have good taste,” Idrees helped, gently tugging at her shawl.

That really sent her over the moon. She blushed even more than when the flirty darzi complimented her.

Cece took one bite of that street samosa and her eyes lit up like twinkling stars. She stared at the crispy pastry as if it granted all of her wishes, enthralled, enraptured, and completely cutely dramatic. It only took a moment of observation before she devoured her food. Idrees watched as she stuffed so much in her mouth that her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk's.

Though he wanted to keep talking to her, he couldn't fathom interrupting what was possibly the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Potato smeared across her lips and when she went to wipe it off, it traveled along her cheek. She didn't break stride. Her fingers flew with a desperation unmatched, like she was trying to beat her personal samosa eating record.

When most of her container was empty, she took a moment to sip their lassi. Idrees leaned closer to her, napkin in hand, and wiped the bit of potato off her face. The way her eye flinched closed and that tiny indignant grunt made his heart flutter. So cute. She was so cute.

“You got samosa on your face,” he said.

She responded with a grunt without removing her straw. So he mocked that grunt in turn. She giggled and nudged his shoulder, a touch that radiated warmth all through his arm and along his body. He would do anything to feel her touch. Even something as simple as a joking shove had his heart light and fluttery.

The day ended with his feet so sore and his cheeks even worse as they headed toward the parking lot. His heart jumped a little when her fingertips caressed his hand again; this time, though, he laced their fingers together. Her hand was much less clammy than his… Her confidence rubbed off on him.

“Want me to drive you to your hotel?” he asked.

He wanted to bite down on his tongue when he saw the way her eyes turned to worry. They scanned the ground at her feet and she chewed on her bottom lip.

He continued, “If you don't want to—” “It's not that. I mean…” “I shouldn't have offered, that was pushy.” “No, it's not,” she said, gripping his hand tight. A smile spread along her lips—not quite hugging her eyes like it had been all afternoon. “I'd really like it if you took me to my hotel. Those busses are torture.” “Are you sure?” he asked, avoiding her gaze. “I don't want to make you.” She bumped his arm with her shoulder. “Oh, honey, you can't make me do anything.”

He couldn't laugh like she did. She'd given pause to his offer, worse than she had after their first date, like he had suggested something obscene. But she kept walking toward the parking lot, tugging him along. He glanced back at the bus stop and the huge group of people waiting for it, before keeping stride with her.

There was his next dilemma: the state of his car. It was a relatively newer model, tan, undecorated but unscratched like the day he bought it. Though a little more expensive than the older used cars, he couldn't pass up the allure of air conditioning. While the outside was unassuming but it was the inside he worried about. And the door locks were a little funny.

“Sorry, hold on…”

He went to his side and unlocked it with his remote. He opened his door, as it was the only one of the four-seater that unlocked with the remote. The other doors clicked open when he pressed the unlock button on his door.

“There we go,” he said. “Hit a pothole last year. Not sure how it messed up the locks, but… yeah.”

They slid into the car and Idrees held his breath while waiting for her response. Which seemed silly now. The car wasn't nearly as full as his mind had remembered. A few to-go cups from the tea shop on the floor, and one in the cup holder. Several strewn about napkins gleamed white against the backdrop of browns and tans. Two clamshell containers from take out still sat on his backseat like passengers that overstayed their welcome.

“Need my gps?” she asked as she used the buttons on the side of her chair to adjust it. “Maybe,” he said, worry melting off of him the longer she didn’t pay the mess any mind. “What's your hotel?”

He recognized the name of it and it wasn't very far from his usual routes.

“That's only, what?” he asked. “Ten minutes from my work?” “Yeah, I saw your store on my maps and just had to try it. Lucky I did.”

Lucky? Idrees bit his lip to avoid grinning like an idiot. She thought she was lucky to have gone to his store? And then to have met him? No, that was insane—he was the lucky one. With everything she did, he felt luckier and luckier.

During the trip, Cece took the baggie out of her bra again and admired the contents. She muttered something about reaffirming the identity of the swamphen feather as though saying it both to him and to herself. Before she put it away, her head popped up and her gaze shot to a small caravan of cows passing by.

“Aww! Oh, I love cows, we rarely get to see them where I live! You're so lucky to live in a place with so many cows.” He shrugged. “I guess so.” “Look at their little tails, so cute,” she gushed, hands pressed up against the car window as she peered out. “I know they're supposed to be sacred here but what's the story behind that?” “I, uh… I dunno.” “You don't?” She turned back to him. “Ohh, are you Buddhist or something? I know that's a popular religion among Indians, too, isn't it?”

A layer of cold sweat tingled his flesh. That's right, Cece would of course assume he's Indian and not realize the truth. Not that he wanted her to know. If any of those truths left his mouth, she would disappear from his life and take her light with her, leaving him in darkness once again. Lucky… Certainly not her.

To think that she would pursue him in blissful ignorance, holding onto him and his lies as they embraced and held hands and… kissed. That was sick. It was so sick that the words nearly clawed out of him anyway, all in a desperate plea to have her know every marred inch of his past, and maybe… maybe she could still like him. Maybe she’d still think she was lucky.

“So religion is a no-go,” she said after a stretch of silence. “Got it. I’ll stop trying to guess.” She pulled a fake zipper around her lips. He cleared his throat. “It's okay. Just touchy.” “Yeah, I get you. Either way, India seems really cool so far. At least in the city. Must be nice to have grown up in a place like India.” “Yeah. India has been nice.”

She truly couldn't grasp the scope of what he said but her wonder and excitement made such awkward, nerve-wracking moments worth it. The rocks on the ground were vibrant. The sky such a deep blue. Clouds like classical paintings. And even the cows had such cute faces and little tails.

She spent the car ride pointing out things he'd never noticed—the architecture of dusty buildings, and the way the trees were still in bloom (”and it’s autumn where I live!”). She grinned brighter and warmer than the sun she gushed over. Its beams rushed ethereally through the sparse trees and their tiny green canopies. And although she'd been hesitant to get in his car, and his mind wanted so badly to return to its familiar guilt and beat him down for forcing her to come along, it was all cast aside for the joy within him at the perfect end to his perfect day.

At her hotel parking lot, he pulled into a space as close to the front doors as he could.

“Thanks for the ride, Idrees,” she said, unbuckling herself.

Though… she didn't leave straight away. She watched him as though waiting for something. A… a kiss? He didn't want to assume such a thing. His skin crawled when he thought of going in for a kiss only for her to feel threatened, coerced, and vulnerable. Several scenarios hit him at once—“What are you doing!?” she could shout while pushing him away. Or maybe she would freeze up, her face frowning and fearful eyes wide as she let him take her. Or maybe he would grab her and rip her into him, kicking and screaming— His stomach lurched. No. He could never let those things happen.

He faced his steering wheel and ran his fingers along it, strumming tunelessly. “I had a great time, Cece. A really great time.” “So did I. Thanks for coming with me. Can't imagine I would've had so much fun on my own.” “Yeah,” he said, still unable to meet her eyes. “Going with you was a lot of fun. And we'll see each other again soon, right? I mean, if you want—”

Her lips brushed against his cheek. His brain stopped working mid-sentence. Though it had lasted a fraction of a second, Idrees felt that kiss warm and tender, and it sat there even after, leaving him in reverie as the memory tickled his flesh. The courage to meet her eyes returned to him, and those pink cheeks were immaculate to behold.

She didn't press it further and instead opened the car door. And perhaps next time he would be ready. Until then, they said their goodbyes, and he watched her beautiful form enter the hotel.

[sofisworld]

I made idrees and Sofia as kids and then Sofia and idrees seeing themselves as baby's lol

[cicidarkarts]

🎃 Writing Masterlist 🎃

🌑 Joonam — Chapter List — Idrees (The Breadwinner) x OC 🌑 Blood Defied — Chapter List — Ominis Gaunt (Hogwarts Legacy) x OC 🌑 Forest Guardian — Chapter List — Nichrom (Shaman King) x OC 🌕 Hospice — Ominis Gaunt (Hogwarts Legacy) AU 🌑 Fettered — Chapter List — Lucas Baker (Resident Evil) x OC 🌕 Souichi Tsujii (Junji Itou) x Reader 🌑 Sowing Seeds — Chapter List — Shadow the Hedgehog x OC 🌑 All my writing tags

🌕 = Complete 🌑 = WIP