Ishan is a hopeless romantic. In the sense that his romantic interests never let him hope.
The most recent person that he has been head over heels for is going to give a seminar in their college and he's Ishan's favourite.
Ishan is the head of the Cultural and Intellectual Committee and as such, he's in charge of almost all the extracurricular events that take place in the college. He's always had such bloody issues with 90% of the guests and speakers for being unprepared or late that these days he just assumes that the guests will be late, but hopefully not too late.
Which, brings him back to his current romantic interest— Shubhman Gill.
The man has been guest speaker in their college twice by now, third time monday, and he has never disappointed Ishan. He's always on time, he's always perfectly dressed, and he always emails Ishan his speech and let's Ishan point out details that he would humbly request to add or remove. Ishan could have kissed him for being a half decent human being the very first time he did that.
Plus, the college being the Techno faculty, the super famous technological prodigy of India coming as a guest speaker, Shubhman sometimes gets assaulted with too many questions and people and sometimes with no good interactive audience at all and yet, he smiles and talks to the teachers afterwards.
The first time Shubhman talked to him, Ishan had been putting away the gifts Shubhman received so that the man could take them on his bike without damaging the Tulsi plant.
(And that was another thing. A famous and important personality coming on his fucking bike? Ishan drooled a little bit when he heard Shubhman softly ask Ritika ma'am for a place to keep his helmet at.)
"Thank you for inviting me," Shubhman told him in a bashful way, an embarrassed blush on his cheeks.
Inexplicably, Ishan wanted to bite those cheeks. He held himself in chem and smiled back,"Thank you for coming, Mr. Gill. You've been a pleasure to work with."
"Please, it's Shubhman! And honestly, I had fun coming here as well. I hear you're the organiser of the event; it's amazingly done, I must say. Your management is impeccable."
So what if Ishan let the praise get to his head? So what if he stalked Shubhman on Instagram later? They had exchanged numbers—for future seminars, Shubhman had explained, much to Ishan's misfortune— and Ishan was entitled to be a little over his head for once!
The second time they talked, was when Ishan congratulated Shubhman on his award as the leading influencer of social media. The third time was when Shubhman wished Ishan on his birthday. The fourth was when Ishan had to invite Shubhman for ALASKA organisation's collab with their college and his presence as a guest judge.
Shubhman had sought him out again.
"I had a lot of fun," he said with that damnable smile of his,"thank you for inviting me again, Ishan."
Ishan shook his head,"Thank you for coming, man. Honestly, your way of interaction makes learning more interesting for the students. And, well, throws me some points to become the favourite teacher of the year."
Shubhman laughed, a sound that Ishan wanted to get drunk on for the rest of his goddamn life. "You have those competitions?"
Ishan looked around dramatically and leaned towards Shubhman, as of telling a secret. Shubhman, that perfect man, leaned forward as well, looking completely serious about this so called secret.
Ishan reached on his tip toes to whisper,"The students do that in their classes on Teachers' day. If they do it publically, they have to give the best teacher paper crown to teachers senior than me. So, a private award for me to take."
Somewhere in the background, something huge fell and Ishan startled badly enough to almost stumble but Shubhman caught him by the arm and grinned,"Cheers to the best teacher, then. What's the other activities you planned amazingly?"
And that's how Shubhman had ended up getting VIP passes to see the Darshan Raval concert that had been arranged.
Virat bhaiya had raised an eyebrow at Ishan showing Shubhman around the campus while they prepared for the concert lightings and all, but hadn't said anything. Ishan was so thankful.
They haven't talked in the four months after Ishan wished Shubhman a happy birthday.
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So, in short, Ishan is a hopeless romantic. He turns every little gesture into a gesture of love and he has many one sided love stories that live rent free in his head.
He would have romantisized this as well, to be honest, if he wasn't confused as fuck.
He's been home for all of five minutes after a damn long day— it's exam season— and all he wants to do is flop on his bed and sleep for the next four weeks. A text pops up on his phone, from an unknown number.
'Are you tired, love? Anything I can do to help?'
Ishan frowns. None of his friends changed their numbers recently and moreover, none of them use nicknames. Can't be a student, no student of his would dare disrespect him. He may be lenient most of the time, but he's tempered enough to break their audacity on the very first lecture.
The reply came instantly. 'Your admirer? Your worshipper? Your fan?' a second passed as Ishan gawked at the message. Another message dropped. 'Whatever I am, I'm yours.'
Well, damn. Someone's smooth.
'Thank you for your kind words, but I prefer not to own people. It's illegal yk?' Ishan feels like an idiot as soon as he sends the text but he can't do anything because it's seen immediately. The person on the other side must be bloody stuck to their chat.
They send a few laughing emojis. 'I could turn the world around for you to be mine, though.'
Ishan leaves the message on seen as he types the unknown number on Truecaller, but there's no registered name under the number.
He's about to leave and go freshen up when another message pops up.
'Searching for me on Truecaller will result to nothing, love.'
Ishan leaves the message on delivered as he looks around himself, his big house feeling emptier by the second. He blocks the number, somehow feeling a weird mix of anticipation and trepidation. He takes a fortifying breath and nods to himself, throwing his phone on the dinning table on his way to his bed room.
He tries to get the message out of his head as he looks for another YouTube video to see while eating his dinner.
'Do you know that blocking someone in the middle of the conversation is rude, Ishan?' the pop up message reads.
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There's a swarm of notifications going off and that's how Ishan wakes up at the ungodly hour of 2:34 am.
He blindly reaches for his phone, the brightness will kill him he's sure, but somehow manages to read the notifications with squinted eyes.
It's an annual Spotify subscription? What the fuck?
He scrambles to sit up and turns on the lamp, trying to focus more. The bloody notifications are an absolute onslaught to his ears. He even has an email announcing his annual Spotify premium account but there's no SMS of deduction from his account. What even—
Before he can start to plan a schedule to go to the bank tomorrow and also somehow plan a call to the customer service of Spotify, another message from that unknown number pops up.
'Happy belated Birthday, Ishan. Sorry I couldn't get you any actual gifts this time, I'll do better next time.'
'There won't be a bloody next time. Don't interfere in my life again. And cancel this bloody premium, i don't need it.'
He does need the premium for when he pulls all nighters and for when he drives to and fro to college. He needs it because he needs someone to talk and listen when he wants to be awake and podcasts are the only way that happens lately when he's off work.
Yes, he has a horrid social life— as a professor often does. All his friends are his colleagues. His family usually knows that he pulls insane hours and they only call at weekends.
'Don't reject it, pls' the message comes, as Ishan ponders his lonely life. When was the last time he enjoyed his life thoroughly? Another message pops up. 'Look, I just want to do something nice for you, okay? Leave it be, it's not your money thats costing you and I've got plenty of money to spend on my dear ones, with god's grace.'
Ishan doesn't know what to reply and he is incensed at himself for it. What the fuck? Ishan has never been greedy or wanted what he couldn't have. This random person suddenly gifts him a Spotify premium, Ishan contemplates his life and he hesitates in doing the right thing?
Oh god, he can hear the puppy eyes. He turns off his internet and throws the phone on the bed. Somehow, Ishan manages to sleep.
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The next morning, it's thankfully Saturday. His Saturdays go great almost always.
His hand itches to listen to his Spotify playlist he's made specifically for travel, but he doesn't want to use a stranger's gift. The stranger might know him and do it out of good of his heart or whatever, but Ishan, in all good conscience cannot use someone for their money.
As he absentmindedly drinks his evening tea, Ishan contemplates any tasks he has for the next day— grocery shopping, getting a haircut, finding a plumber to fix that minor leakage in his kitchen tap. It's gonna be a long day.
"Ishan!" He blinks up like a deer in highlights as he's startled by Rohit bhaiya. "What are you thinking?"
"Kuch nahi, bhaiya," he says and grins when Rohit bhaiya puts his hand on his shoulder. Ishan has always been a fan of skinship, and while Virat bhaiya being touchy is normal and comforting, Rohit bhaiya being touchy is rewarding and privileged. "Aap batao, how was your day?"
He groans in reply,"Puchh mat, Bhai. These B.Com students look innocent but they're so not! Apparently some kids sold around a paper of Accounts saying it's a leaked paper but it wasn't and making it clear to the students as well the board members? Hell. Why did I even accept to be the Secretary there when I'm Dean here too?"
Ishan laughs,"Because you love Virat bhaiya and lost a bet?"
"Shh, don't speak about it where students can hear you!"
Ishan laughs again. Feeling happy is a natural state of his when he's around his colleagues, they're all so good to him. It's what makes him stay in the college despite him getting offers from a lot of colleges in bigger cities. He's never gonna get the same affection anywhere else and he's ready to face some separation with his family while he works here. He's already made it clear that they're gonna come love with after his father finally retires.
"Accha, tell me what is the status of overmorrow's seminar?"
The one where his celebrity crush is going to be the main speaker?
"Spectacular. I've done everything, bas I'll get the flowers and the gift watch and everything else is set. Bhaiya bas Monday ko maachis dhundhni na pade, haa?"
It happens almost every damn time. It'd be ten minutes from arrival time of the guest and Ishan would tell some student to get the matchsticks for the auspicious diya lighting and no one would find the matchsticks. With everyone else, it's fine, but Shubhman? He's a punctual man, running around like headless chicken in front of him is not how he wants to establish himself and his students.
Rohit bhaiya nods understandingly. "Pakka. Varna ye apna hai na vo, usse lighter le ke candle light karke de Dena."
Ishan shakes his head at the confusing slang Rohit bhaiya uses. Amar, one of his students, has a smoking habit and hence carries around a lighter. The idiot always saves himself by offering his lighter at times when lighting something was necessary.
"Thik. Anyways, I'm going home, bhaiya. Anything left for me to do?"
Rohit bhaiya shakes his head with a grin and lets him go.
Its almost reflex when Ishan puts his earphones in and starts Chhaiya Chhaiya.
The bloody quality makes him blink and straighten up. And oh. Yeah, he's using premium.
Even as he feels a little guilty, his head bops to the beat as he drives back home.
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When Ishan comes back home again, his garden looks different.
He's convinced that it's because he's not inspecting it properly so he crouches down and cranes his neck to look at the grass and some flower plants he has. He can't put his finger on it, but it's different.
He glances around the rest of his garden and that's when it catches his eye— the mower. And the pile of grass beside.
Someone fucking mowed his garden? And somehow, to the exact way he likes it.
And then, he hears the start of a two-wheeler, and before he's even out of the gate, the person has turned the corner and all Ishan can see is the shade of their taillight on the trees.
Ishan hightails it inside his house and checks it all over.
No lock broken, no thing stolen and no money moved. Everything is as it was when he left in the morning.
His phone pings with another message.
'Sorry to leave like that, ik it was obnoxious'
'how'd you like your garden tho? Did I do well?'
And. Ishan is a weak man, okay?
He knows this is wrong, he knows he has a stalker probably, and someone with probably deep issues, but. He bloody can't accept such big help without saying anything in gratitude, okay? He's weak.
'Its fine, tho I'd like to meet you someday' what the fuck is he saying. He wants to meet a probable sociopath?
'And thanks for the garden. You've done it perfectly and it's a great help. Thank you' there. He's been polite.
Another message comes. 'I think you'll enjoy our meeting a lot, love. And your welcome'
No other messages pop up throughout the evening.
Ishan denies to even himself that he checks his phone every five minutes for the stranger.
He's intrigued, he says to himself when he goes to sleep.
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Tagging: @mayakimayahai @onthecloudseven @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @kyayaarkiraa @fortunatelycrazyyouth @khwxbeeda @ispeakmorelanguagesthanyou @ishkrisq
