Back on his bike, out for the ride, our dear Rudra is swerving through the night. Good thing he only discarded his gloves and nothing else because as soon as the marriage talk was over, he ascended his bike and left for some fresh air and much-needed friendly talk. More like a drink and a babbling baboon.

"Kya?"

Vyom had just finished eating his dinner and was about to plop on his bed when suddenly his phone rang. He let out a deep sigh on seeing the contact's name.

"Niche aa."

and he hung up. Rudra was not a small talker, but he had a bad boy tough guy image to maintain, even in front of his bestie since college days, Vyom Wadhwa. He groaned and off with his ass got changed.

Vyom was wearing a white t-shirt, styling it with a pair of black jeans and a pair of combat boots with a silver watch, shining under the moonlight, on his left wrist as he stood outside of his complex waiting for his dear friend who hung up on him after uttering two words. Not like Vyom minded it but still, he had an office to reach the next morning, unlike Rudra.

Rudra stopped his bike for two minutes, enough for his friend to sit behind him, as he pulled back on streets. The two didn't talk until they were in their favorite club, the neon light shining 'MIDNIGHT LOVERS'. They sat on their usual seat at the bar counter having a drink in their hand.

Rudra went first and downed the drink in a go before he spoke up

"Shadi ki baat hori hai meri."

He felt a spray of cold whiskey on the right side of his face as he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, telling himself that hiding a friend's dead body is a laborious task. Rudra turned in the direction of whiskey-spray and looked at the dumbfounded friend of his, whose half drink was in the glass while half he had jet sprayed via his mouth onto his biker friend's face.

His eyes were wide open and was frozen for the next five minutes.

The club was booming with loud music and the howling of drunks and dancers. He blinked a few times, grabbed onto the whiskey-drenched guy's shoulders and shook him a little as he yelled out

"Mazak mat kar Rudra. Shaadi? Halwa hai kya?"

The soon-to-be-groom took a tissue from the bartender, wiping his face off, while Vyom just laid back on his seat with his mouth slightly open and eyebrows furrowed like he had the shock of his life. 

Well, it was. 

Rudra propped his left elbow on the bar counter, his thumb under his chin and the index finger on the curve of it, gently rubbing his stubble with a refilled glass of whiskey in his right as he saw his friend still in a daze. He was less shocked than the guy in front of him.

"Bhai teri kaise shaddi ho sakti hai? Mana terpe looks hai and family rich hai but at the end of the day tu hai to berozgaar na?"

Vyom was trying his best to convince himself that his jobless, rich, and handsome friend with a messed-up personality was getting married.

Try harder Vyom.

"Vyom, tu ek lauta dost hai varna tera khoon karne ka plan to maine teen saal pehle hi bana lia tha."

He growled a little and rubbed down his face with his left palm resting it over his mouth, letting her glare highlight prominently.

"To bhai jhoot kya bola? Tu nalla hai to hai, khatam baat. Dekh hum dost hai iska matlab ye thodi hai ki tera dil rakhne ke liye main jhoot bolna shuru kar dunga."

He reasoned but was totally scared of the biker's glare.

"Is topic ko maar goli and ye bata ki ab kya karega?" 

"Shaadi,"

Rudra said and sipped his drink nonchalantly.

Vyom looked at him in disbelief,

"Kyu? Naa bolde. Kyu karni hai shaadi? Tujhe pta hai hai ki tu most desirable bachelor hai but eligible nahi."

"Itna sach bolna jaroori hai? No wait, sara sach aaj hi bolna jaroori hai?"

Rudra says in a cold and slightly irritated tone.

"Bhai best friends honest hote hai na?"

Vyom cooed in a sweet voice acting like he was dealing with a grumpy baby. He leaned forward to place a hand on his bestie's shoulder and all Rudra did in return was sip his drink.

"Maine bola tha ki us bechari ladki ki zindagi kharab mat karo, but Rudra to pagal hain na? Koi meri sun lega to unke shares gir jayenge."

He hissed.

Vyom sat back straight and looked at his drink before speaking

"Cocktail mein kya pehnu?"

his eyes were still on his drink, but Rudra's eyes were on him. He patted Vyom's back gently, consoling him. 

He knew what was about to come. The whining Vyom. 'Khud ka dukhda bhi nahi ro sakta. Is chutiye ka rona shuru ho jata hai.' Rudra thought clicking his tongue in a tch.

"Bhai kyu?"

There it goes.

"Mujhme kya burai hai? Handsome hu, cute hu, ladkio ko izzat vali nazro se dekhta hu. Maana tere jitni acchi body nahi hai but fir main kaam karne vala insaan hu. Tere jitna faltu time hota to tere jaisi sexy chocolate boy type body bana leta."

He whined.

Meanwhile, Rudra's consolation was slowly turning into conspiracy; on how to kill Vyom Wadha without being suspected as the murderer.

"Sala apna rona ro raha hai ya mujhe nanga kar raha hai?"

he thought in his head as his eyes twitched, but he continued patting his lamenting friend's back. 

Such a kind soul is my Rudra.

Vyom continued and had now rested his head down on the bar's counter, his arms crossed over acting as a pillow for his fragile head against the hard glass,

"Bhai main kya karu? Girlfriend tak nahi hai, jo thi usne chaar batein sunai and chali gayi. But mujhe dekh, maine kabhi saari ladkio ko ek samaan nahi samjha."

"To chutiye behen samaan bhi kyu samjha? Ab khudki girlfriend kiss mangegi aur tu sharmake bolega ki 'ye sab shaadi ke baad karte hain' to akela hi marega na? Sale tere to hoth bhi virgin hai, theek hua us ladki ne himmat dikhai and tera haath pakad lia varna tere haath bhi virgin reh jaate."

Rudra mumbled in a cold mocking tone, his eyes rolling so back into his head that he could have seen the insides of his brain.

Vyom jerked up and was about to grab Rudra's collar to shake him in a friendly way, but he halted, knowing very well that this friendship has its limits.

Vyom sat facing Rudra and tried to divert the topic from his sad dating life back to Rudra's about-to-be-married life. 

"Ladki ki photo dekhi?" 

"Nahi."

"Kyu?"

"Meeting vale din dekhunga."

"Kyu?"

Rudra sipped his drink, his torso leaning against the glass slab. The elbows rested on the counter top with the glass swirling in his grip with the ice condensing, forming little beads of water on the surface of the crystal-clear tumbler holding liquid amber.

"Bas. Hit chahiye."

"Cockroach maarne vala ya mosquito vala?"

A hit landed on the interrogator's head.

"Bandar ki akal ke saath paida huye mere dost, hit in the sense it should be a surprise. Something intense. A wait, a rush of adrenaline. You know I live for it."

Vyom rubbed the back of his head to soothe the pain from the impact and hummed a yes. 

"To naam pata hai?" 

"Nope." 

"Bhai ladki hai bas itna pata hai?" 

"Han." 

Now, Vyom had his head resting in his palms with his elbows propped on the glass counter, his eyes squeezed shut and a deep breath let out. He told himself – 'Control Vyom. Control!'

"To koi idea nahi hai ki ladki kaisi hai? Kaisi dikhti hai? Naam kya hai? Hmmm..."

The now frustrated friend looked at his leather jacket-adorned friend who was no more drinking but sitting with his back leaning against the counter, elbows resting behind him, his shoulders shrugged just a little and his thighs bulging out of his black jeans. He relaxed with his legs spread and predatory gaze on the girls dancing under the dim bouncing club lights.

"What do you expect her to be like?"

He questioned the dazed Pratap.

Rudra was silent for a moment before he started speaking in his low, grave voice

"Aisi ladki who loves me for me, no matter how bad or spoiled I am. A girl who is capable of looking through me and reading me like an open book like Maa does to Papa and Bhabhi does to Bhai. Bhaad mein jaye cooking skills, bas vo aisi ho ki uske sath ek sukoon ka nivala nigal pau. I don't give a damn vo height mein choti hai ya lambi, gori hai ya kali, patli hai ya thick, bas insaan honi chahiye jo mere andar ka insaan dekh sake. I want someone jisko spoiled and sexy Rudra Pratap na dikhe but vo Rudra dikhe who-"

he stopped before he got a lot more emotional and changed his tone to more fun and mischievous.

"To be honest silent honi chahiye but not too timid, shy honi chahiye for me. Meri har baat sune, age mein younger hogi to maza ayega. 'Ji', 'sunte ho', 'aji suniye' bolegi to kya baat hai. Someone sweet innocent pyari like a pink aesthetic vali ladki. You know what I mean? Matlab jiske saath khelne mein maza aaye and aise hi maze maze mein married life nikal jayegi."

He turned to look at Vyom, catching his reaction.

"Axa. Matlab teri adrenaline se bhari life mein tujhe calmness lane vali ladki chahiye?"

Vyom spoke.

"Totally. Matlab main bike race se vapis aau to vo mera mere haatho ko kiss kare. Mere gloves utare aur bole ki thak gaye honge na aap? Abhi aapki thakaan mitati hu. Uff. Vyom mere bhai, what a life it would be!"

Rudra spoke with a smug smile, eyes sparkling with glint under the multicoloured club lights.

That's when a girl in a tight red dress walked her way up and stood between Rudra's spread-up legs, placing her hands on his thighs, making him pull her closer by the waist. His left elbow still resting behind him on the bar countertop. 

He looked at the girl with an effortless sly smirk moistening his lips with his whiskey-laced tongue and stated the terms and conditions,

"Shaadi hone vali hai meri, still up for the fun?"

The girl wrapped her left arm around his neck, sliding her right hand up his chest.

"Hui to nahi na?"

She smirked before smashing her lips on his.

The two started making out without a second thought - grabbing, groping and grinding against each other without the care of the crowd around. His hands pulled the girl on his lap, crawling up under her dress as the girl's hands found their way up under his shirt.

A whimper left her mouth when she felt the curves and ridges of his abdomen, moving up to his chest. And she was about to go south towards his belt when a yelp escaped for, she was in the air over Rudra's shoulder, hanging like a sack of potatoes, being carried away to somewhere more private.

Vyom looked at the bartender, turning away from the steamy scene. He was too used to this now.

Sipping his drink, he muttered under his breath thinking about Rudra's future wife

"Bechari."