It was quite late in the evening when Vikram accompanied Aditya back to Aditya's home. They had spent the entire day visiting random sites, taking more photos, running around for no reason, being parched and famished, exploring the food joints across town and finally for a little shopping for essentials.

Aditya had refused, but Vikram insisted that he needed a new school bag and some new clothes. When Aditya still refused, Vikram agreed to buy something more affordable so now they stood outside Aditya's house with two large bags in each of their hands because Vikram had gone a little overboard and decided that Aditya also needed some new shoes and other school supplies.

"I would invite you in but the house isn't fit for a visit." Aditya said, standing at his doorway.

Vikram scrunched his eyebrows. "I don't care." he said and went in, pushing Aditya aside.

As he stepped inside the house, Vikram realized that it indeed wasn't much. It wasn't anything at all. Did Aditya really live in this house?

The windows were broken and no one had cared to mend them. The way to the living room was littered with empty cans of beer and bottles of whiskey. When Aditya switched the lights of the living room Vikram saw a lone sofa sitting in the middle with some plastic chairs around a small coffee table. There was no other furniture in sight.

And on the sofa, the blob of a man lay sleeping.

"That's my uncle." Aditya said, pointing to the man. "Ignore him."

Vikram scowled. "Shouldn't I at least say hello?"

Aditya shrugged. "You can, but I doubt he'll hear you. He's drunk and asleep."

"But..." Vikram looked at him, torn about what to do. "It's still quite early to sleep."

"Alcoholics don't follow a schedule." Aditya said and gave Vikram a quick tour of the house, which wasn't much because they didn't even more. There was one room on the left, which he said belonged to his uncle, straight ahead was the kitchen and to the left was Aditya's room.

Vikram had not known Aditya lived like this and that he lived with his uncle. He had just assumed that he lived with his mother.

"It's just the two of you?"

Aditya nodded and walked to the door on the right of the living room.

"Let's go to my room before he wakes up." he said and opened the door as Vikram followed right behind him. If the living room was a surprise, Aditya room rendered Vikram speechless.

There was just one bed and a table in the room. Not even a chair to sit on. Vikram eyes went to the small box kept at the bottom of the table and he realized that it was the carton Vikram had given Aditya with the school books in it. The room was spotlessly clean, cleaner than the entire house perhaps but it was hauntingly empty.

"How do you live like this?" Vikram asked after a while, once he had absorbed every detail in his mind.

"I don't have any other choice."

"What about your mom?"

Aditya took the bags Vikram was holding and placed them at the foot of the bed.

"My parents got a divorce when I was five." he said. "I stayed with dad and my mom moved to New York where she found a new job, a new husband and a new family. She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"How can she have nothing to do with you?" Vikram asked, taken aback by what Aditya had just said. "She's your mom."

"She has two kids now." Aditya said. "I don't blame her for not wanting to ruin her new family over something she left behind."

Vikram wanted to slap some sense into Aditya but decided not to.

"Where do you study?" Vikram asked. "Where do you cook? Where do you eat?" He hadn't noticed a single proper setup in the house.

"I usually study in the library or at school and I don't really cook here."

"What about your breakfast, and dinner?" Vikram knew he had lunch at school.

"You're worrying unnecessarily." Aditya said. "I am fine."

"No one can be fine living like this."

"Vikram..." Aditya said, "Calm down. This is temporary. I turn eighteen in a few months and I can go back to living in my house."

Vikram breathed. Only a few months.

"Fine." he said and walked over to the only furniture in the room, the bed and sat down. "But if it takes more than that, I'll ask my parents to let you stay with us."

Aditya laughed and shook his head. "That's sweet but I will be fine."

Vikram scowled and looked around. There wasn't anything, at all. Aditya's clothes lied in a pile on a small table in the corner of the room and his used clothes hung on what seemed like a nail on the door.

Vikram turned his attention to the shopping bags. "Try the new clothes." he said. "I want to see if they fit."

"There is no need for that."

"You refused to try at the store, saying you'll try them at home." Vikram said, getting up and handing the bags of clothes to Aditya. "So go."

Aditya sighed and took the bags from him before walking to the washroom and closing the door behind him.

Vikram casually flopped himself on the bed with his hands behind his head.

"Can I ask you something?" Aditya's voice came through the door.

"Yeah."

"Did your dad not like me coming to your house?"

Vikram got up and faced the washroom door. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't know." Aditya called back. "When I came to your house in the morning, he didn't really seem to like me at all."

"That's not..." Vikram began, wondering if he should tell Vikram. Aditya had already known so much about him, maybe Vikram could tell him about his father too. He shook his head. Maybe some other time. "It's nothing like that." Vikram said. "He just has a lot on his mind these days."

The door to the washroom opened and Aditya walked out in a brand new pair of t-shirt and jeans. He held his hand up and took a swirl.

"Perfect." Vikram said, "Now try the other one."

Aditya didn't fight him this time and quietly went in to change again.

Vikram got up from the bed and walked to Aditya's desk. There wasn't much on it either. A few books lay scattered along with some basic stationery. The light in the room hardly fell on the table and there was no lamp on it in case Aditya wanted to study here. There were a few novels stacked towards the back and a flip calendar right next to them. There were highlighters of various colours beside them in a holder and then Vikram's eyes fell on a small photo frame.

Vikram picked it up. It was Aditya's photo from when he was probably fifteen as he stood next to his dad. His father had his arms around Aditya's neck in a playful chokehold and Aditya was smiling brighter than Vikram had ever seen him smile.

The only memory Vikram had of Aditya's father was of him showing up at school during the finals of the football matches Aditya played and cheering for him. He also remembered seeing him at school on the day when the final results came out every winter. As far as Vikram could remember, Aditya's dad hadn't missed a single one. And now, Aditya was turning eighteen soon and he would move into his house soon and would leave to study in Paris, hopefully and his father would not be able to see any of that happen.

A weird form of grief struck Vikram when these thoughts weirdly took him to his own father. He did not know how long people with Alzheimer's lived, all he knew that it wasn't fatal. He wondered what he would feel if he woke up one day, to find out that his father is no more?

Would he grieve? Or would he stay strong? Vikram didn't know many things but he knew that despite the fact that sometimes he hated his father, he would still like to have him around for as long as possible. And he could only imagine how Aditya managed to survive all this.

Vikram was still holding the frame when Aditya walked out of the washroom. This time, he wore a black t-shirt that was a little smaller for his size and it stuck to his biceps and his chest and his waist and his abs and it was so tight that Vikram could count each pack clearly.

He let out a laugh. "That needs to be returned ASAP." he said and leaned back against the desk.

Aditya looked at his own body, feeling a little shy. "You think?" he asked and Vikram laughed.

Aditya looked at the photo frame in Vikram's hand walked closer to him until he too was leaned against the desk, right next to Vikram.

"That's my dad."

Vikram looked at the photo and smiled. "I know. I've seen him at school a couple of times."

This surprised Aditya a little, wondering how Vikram remembered him at all. "He used to come to the football finals every year."

Vikram nodded. "And on the day of the final results"

"Yeah." Aditya laughed. "I used to tell him I can go on my own but he insisted. He liked being told how exemplary I was at studies..." and then quickly added "every year."

Vikram let out a laugh. "Cocky, huh?"

Aditya joined him in the laughter and then suddenly turned quiet. "I miss him." he said in a low voice. "When I was a kid, I spent a summer at my grandmother's place which was four hours' drive from here." Aditya continued. "I had never been without my dad but I somehow managed to stay for about ten days. On the eleventh day, I started feeling that he had left me here and I was so scared, thinking he'd leave me like my mom did. The next day I called him after dinner, asking if I am to stay with grandma forever. He drove down to my grandmother's place and came barging in at 2 in the morning. He woke me up and said, 'Come on, let's go home'. I leapt at him even when I was dead sleepy. I don't remember being that happy, ever."

He took the photo from Vikram's hand and stared at it. "Sometimes I wake up thinking he'd walk through the door and say 'Get up Aditya, it's time to go back home.'"

Vikram had no word for the ache he felt inside his heart when he heard this. For someone who was just seventeen, life had very unfair.

"I can see that he loved you a lot." Vikram said softly.

"He was my best friend." Aditya said and turned around to keep the frame back. "I'll change and be right out." he said and walked back into the washroom.

Vikram wanted to stop him. He wanted to tell him that it was okay. That he wasn't alone, even after his dad was gone. He wanted to assure him that he had Vikram now, and Ruvee, even Shruti and that he could lean on them when things got too difficult to handle but none of that came out.

When Aditya returned, the air had shifted and the words that hung in the air, ready for Vikram to be caught and said, disappeared.

A rustling noise outside disturbed them when Aditya opened his door slightly to check what it was. He found his uncle talking to someone at the door. Someone handed him an envelope, he peeked inside it and immediately rushed out of the house.

"Is someone out there?" Vikram suddenly asked and Aditya turned around.

"Hmm? Oh, no just my uncle. He went out"

"Now?" Vikram said, looking at his watch and realizing that he'd miss dinner with his family if he stayed any longer. "Shit, I've to get going."

Aditya nodded and Vikram packed all his stuff.

"See you at school?" Vikram asked as he was halfway through the door.

"Yes." Aditya replied fondly. "See you."

Aditya was about to lie down on his bed when he heard sounds coming from outside again.

He opened his door, only to find his uncle with new bottles of whiskey and cans of beer.

"Where did all that come from?" Aditya asked, approaching him.

Sailesh laughed. "You think you can hide your secrets from me?" he asked, pulling an envelope out of his pocket.

"What is that?" Aditya asked, trying to snatch it away from Sailesh but couldn't.

Sailesh stacked the envelope back into his pocket and smiled at Aditya in his all drunk state. "A guy called Mohit dropped this by, and asked me to tell you something."

Shit, Aditya thought. This was not good.

"What did he say?"

"He asked me to tell you..." Sailesh said and leaned, "'I am sure you know what you have to do.'"

Aditya's hands formed into tight fists. He reached for his uncle's collar and yanked him by it. "Give me the money back"

"You think you can have it all for yourself?" he asked and then laughed again. "I knew you'd give me nothing so I spent it all."

He reached in and pulled the envelope out. "Here, take it." he said, handing it to Aditya. "It's empty."

Saying this, Sailesh freed himself from Aditya and walked to the sofa, making himself a drink, leaving Aditya to detest ever choosing to live in the house.