Standing in the middle of the downtown area, Ayan had to admit that he was, by no fault of his own, undeniably lost. It had taken an entire week before he could find the time to visit Inali’s gallery. Turns out that writing a thesis was more work than he had accounted for, and he had barely managed to scrape by on 2-3 hours of sleep each day. As such he had jumped at his first free day to make the trip. He had started the day off confident – until he realized that the studio wasn’t listed online so there was no way to find it by GPS location. While he didn’t think that his navigation skills were the worst, trying to locate the store based only on the address written on the business card proved to be beyond his capabilities.

He was certain that he was on the right street but he had walked along the cobblestone pathway for an hour, checking each building on both sides with no sight thus far of anything remotely close. There were cafes, bookstores, restaurants and the occasional street artist; stores dedicated to jewellery, and other tokens that attracted the typical tourist, but no sign of Inali’s place.

Tired from his fruitless searching, he sat in the shade of a tree on a small bench in the town centre. Eyes cast downward, he leaned his head between his knees, hoping to relieve the small bout of dizziness that washed over him now that he was seated. In absence of his earlier confidence, the fatigue of the week stretched through his body and he could feel a dull throbbing behind his eyes. Perhaps that was the reason why he hadn’t noticed someone walking up to him until a sleek pair of oxfords entered his view. Eyes widening, he glanced up, half-curious half-concerned at his obliviousness to the person’s approach. Golden eyes stared back down at him, as a familiar face smiled softly.

“Ayan, are you okay?”

Inali spoke, concern evident in his voice. A warm feeling bubbled in Ayan’s chest and rang out as peals of laughter. He sprung to his feet, too quickly for his body to process, and the shout of his name was the last thing he heard as his vision faded to black.

When he regained consciousness Ayan found himself lying comfortably in bed. Still half asleep, he turned to seek more rest but a ray of light cast on his face sought to keep him from falling back asleep. As he stirred awake a thought occurred to him – he never slept with the curtains drawn, so he was most definitely not at home in his own bed. Finally recalling that he had literally fainted upon finally meeting Inali, he quickly sprung up. This time his rise was stable and he was able to smoothly manoeuver his way out of bed. As he rose the sight of his feet in socks and not the sneakers he had donned earlier startled him. A haunting thought slowly formed in his mind and he couldn’t help but glance at his coat – draped neatly on a hanger instead of on him as he last remembered. Embarrassment washed over him as he stooped to the floor, face in his hands.

The thought of being stripped of both his coat and shoes, then being tucked into bed like a child made his ears burn as he screamed silently. After a brief moment of recovery, he slowly rose again and moved to make the bed he had been lying in. Having regained some sense of composure, he took scope of the room he was occupying. In essence, it was a tall attic space that had been converted into a bedroom, but there was a sense of coziness and warmth that inhabited it. Cast above the bed, which was comfortably low to the ground, was a wide skylight. Through it, he could see trees towering outside and glimpses of the sky. The space on each side of the bed was minimal, only enough for one person’s width, but the lofty ceiling ensured it felt spacious and free. To the side of the sleeping area was an enclosed space which he assumed was the bathroom. The rest of the space opened to a living room- light flooding the scene through a large round window.

He peered at the flight of stairs at the end of the room, pondering if he should make the trip down himself or wait where he was. The decision was made for him after a moment of indecision by the sound of footsteps walking up the stairs. He braced himself as the footsteps grew nearer, standing awkwardly next to the bed as if to highlight his ‘good work’.  His breath caught as Inali entered – his hair loose over his shoulders. He could see it now at its full length; down to his waist. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to his elbows and he carried in both hands a tray, atop which sat a bowl of something hot, he could see the steam still rising off it.

“You’re up.” Inali noted with a smile as he glanced at him.

Setting the tray onto the coffee table in the middle of the living room, he gestured Ayan to join him as he sat on the floor. He walked forward stiffly to the table, extra conscious of his every step. Lowering onto the cushioned seat (a pair to the one Inali sat on), he sat across from him, eyes cast on the food. He wasn’t trying to avoid eye contact, of course, simply admiring the layout in front of him. He could see clearly now that tray held a bowl of some type of soup and two smaller bowls. He wasn’t sure what kind but the aroma wafted across his face, and in defiance of his wishes of no longer embarrassing himself for the day, his stomach growled loudly. Soft laughter rang out from across the table and he could feel his ears and cheeks running hot once more.

“How are you feeling?”   came Inali’s question as his laughter petered out. Ayan laughed sheepishly, stealing a glance at Inali’s expression, surprised to see the genuine concern.

“I’m sorry,” the apology came almost automatically, “this isn’t the impression I wanted to make today.”

 “It’s okay.” Inali responded without missing a beat. “I’m glad I was there in time to help you.” He glanced away and back at Ayan, seeming to hesitate before continuing. “Are you sick?” With hands clenched together, he looked at him intently, awaiting his answer.

A part of Ayan wanted to reach out, loosen his grip himself and tell him that he was alright, but his sense of logic prevailed. Instead, he quickly assured him that he was fine after resting, and It was his own negligence of his health. Of course, he didn’t mention the hour he had spent searching blindly. With relief, Ayan watched as his shoulders visibly relaxed and the frown between his brows smoothened, leaving a broad smile in its place.

 “You should take better care of your health” he advised as he ladled two bowls of soup, stretching one across to Ayan. “We should eat before it gets cold. It’s nothing fancy but should help you regain some strength.”

The soup was warm on his tongue, savoury and slightly spicy. It reminded him of home, of warm weather and comforting meals. They sat together in comfortable silence, and he couldn’t tell if the warmth he felt in his chest was from their meal or a kindling of something more.