My friends tell me that I have everything required to win over girls, but my hormones have a mind of their own. "My cards are not for the ladies, they are for the gents," I often tell them. I am gay. But then my high-profile celebrity life has denied me the option to come out of the closet. Years of practice, and I have mastered the art of suppression; suppression of myself, and my innate emotions.

"Arav, that girl near the bar has the hots for you," chimed my friend. "She is attractive," I exclaimed loudly, and looked at her for a few seconds to keep up the straight act. Suddenly, the girl looks at me, smiles, and waves towards me. I look at her and smile. “Darling, if only you were a cute looking guy, I would have given you a chance," I think.

"So," my friend starts again. "Is that girl getting lucky tonight?" He looks at me and unceremoniously points towards the girl. I look at my friend, and his peevish glare at the girl irritates me. "Why do men act like pimps?' I think.

My friend is waiting for an answer. So, I clear my throat and say. "I would love to, but then I have to prep-up for a TV interview tomorrow."

I could sense the frustration on my friend’s face. "You should try your luck. It seems you are the one who can't control the urge. But then, remember, everything is to do with consent," I smile. My friend looks flabbergasted by my rejection, shakes my hands and walks out of the bar.

I look at my watch. In half-an-hour, I will be taking the biggest leap of my life. I had found someone. A person who made me complete, the love of my life. He made me realise that my life was not only limited to the silver screen, and that I was a person with a beating heart, capable of love. I look around me. People looked at me in acknowledgement. They recognise me from my movies. I close my eyes. "Life is like a beautiful novel. The thrills and the conflict. I have survived for so long and will continue to do so. But this time, I am going to be true to myself, no fictions," I tell myself.

I call the waiter, and order a glass of wine. I drum my fingers on the table and wait for the person who had embraced me, and my heart.

****

"So, here's the script. You need to focus on these highlighted words," he points his manicured fingers on the script, and gently highlights some lines. "Empowerment, awareness, inspire. Is there any confusion?" he asks. I lower my Louis Vuitton sunglasses and look at him. "He is cute," opines my mind. Innocence reflects in his amber-shaped eyes.

"Is there any confusion?" he repeats again. I recollect my lust-filled thoughts and answer, "Confusion? There's no confusion. These scripts evoke no desire for action. It's plain and boring." I exclaim in frustration.

My reaction surprises him. "I will smile, wave and act, and make sure these dumb words breathe,” I say. He looks at me bemused, "But sir, why will you smile and wave? This film is about the Sustainable Development Goals. It doesn't require all that jazz." I was about to rebuttal when I realised something. This script boy was unperturbed by my name and fame. "How dare he dictate a star like me?" I mentally shout to myself. People worshipped me, but this lanky guy with his Superman t-shirt was giving me shade. "Do let me know if you have any confusion?" he states and starts collecting the script from the table.

Suddenly, I burst out, "Do you even watch movies?"

He looks at me amused and murmurs, "Of course I watch movies … that's why …" I cut him short and attack him, "So, you don't know who I am?" I felt like a child. He could sense that he had bruised my ego. He looked straight in my eyes, and smiled, "Everyone in this country knows who you are, sir." He pauses and whispers, "You are Arav, the superstar!" Suddenly his vampire white skin blushes, "I am a big fan of yours."

I look at him dumbfounded. I am usually surrounded by fans who adore me, but this boy in front me made me realise that the world is not all praises. The world recognises humble beings. "Thank you," I mutter. He looks at me and smiles.

*****

The documentary shoot was finally over. The crew members were celebrating around the splendid bonfire, singing and dancing around it. I look at them with boredom and excuse myself from the celebration. "It's a beautiful night," I tell myself, as I walk towards the nearby woods.

"Out for a walk sir?" I halt, look back. "Oh, hello again". It was the script boy. "Do you drink?" he asks. I nod my head. "It’s local," he hands me a flask. I sniff and wriggle my nose. "This is strong!" He looks at me and laughs, "It's strong, even for a strong person like you?"

I looked at him irritated. "What do you mean?" He looked at me, and his cheeks blush like spring.

"I'm Jiten, sir," he says, breaking the awkward silence. He gives me his hand, and I give him mine. His hands are soft. "I have a request, Jiten," I start. "Stop calling me sir. That word makes me sound like a botox session gone wrong!" He laughs out loud. His laughter was musical. I don't know what happened next, but my fingers were caressing his hands. We both looked at each other, and there was a spark. I wanted him, and I knew that he wanted me too. This want was not sexual. It was the ultimate answer to our existence. Looking at him felt like being hit by the first drops of monsoon. It was euphoric. Jiten looks at me and smiles. "He is me, he is like me," I think and hold his hands tight.

Jiten breaks the silence, "Do you want to go out for a walk?" I look up to him and nod in obedience. Far from gazes, stares and whispers. I hold his hand once again and whisper without hesitation, "Can I kiss you?" to which he nods. That night I unfolded all my secrets, revealed the hidden emotions, and embraced the real me. Brief kisses turned into strong fierce ones, and we surrendered to each other without a second thought. For the first time in my life, I felt complete. I looked at Jiten, drew circles in his bare chest and smiled. “Heaven found us,” I say.

*****

"Sir, can I have your autograph," a voice startles me. I abandon the train of nostalgia. A teenage girl with light makeup and straight hair was idolising me with her gaze. "Sure, what's your name?" I ask her. "It’s Deena". I quickly write, "With love to Deena, from Arav." I hand over the paper to the girl. She quickly takes the paper from me, and looks at me with doting admiration.

"I am a huge fan of yours. I love you!" she says these lines at such speed that I was sure that she had practiced these lines a zillion times. I smile at her, and watch her dance her way out of the restaurant in excitement. "There's so much love from people. They respect me, adore me, but will they accept me if they knew my secret," I wonder. A chill runs down my spine, as I knew the answer.

"Being gay is acceptable now, but being a gay actor?" A thought strikes me, "As an actor I have to embody many characters. But what will happen if people stigmatise me for who I am?" My head gets bogged with newspaper headlines, "Gay actor plays Romeo—film a flop", "King of romance is all for the guys", "Arav is gay—and film producers aren't happy!"

Beads of sweat forms on my forehead. My mental self-shouts at me, "What are you doing Arav? Your sexuality is your reality, but for others, the reality is what they see onscreen. Your gay declaration is your doom."

Nausea hits me, I feel weak. "What was I doing? I can't reveal myself; I can't do that," I mentally scream.

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice interrupts my thoughts. I looked startled. It was Jiten. I could sense concern in his voice. "Are you okay?"

He sits down in the chair opposite to me. He had a manila folder in his hands. He places the folder on the table and holds my hands tight. "Your hands are sweaty. Is everything okay?" he repeats. I look at him. "Jiten, we can't see each other again. It's too risky for me and my career. I'm sorry I don't think this will work," I exclaim.

Jiten looks at me; I could sense the tension rising inside him. He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a sharp deep breath, opens his eyes and looks at me. His eyes pierce through me as he utters, "I should have realised that you are an actor and will always be one. There's no reality for you. You'll always embrace the illusion you have created to please the world. I cannot live in a bubble house like you, Arav. I want my love to understand reality. Unfortunately, you can't do that."

He stands up, smiles at me and walks out of the door. I rub my hands in frustration, and spot the manila folder that Jiten has left on the table. I open the envelope, and slowly toss the content on the table. Two rings, two tickets and one white a4 size paper with the words, "Will you marry me?"

Teary eyes, I held the rings in my hand. White gold, decorated with the words, "Heaven found us." I could feel the guilt stab like a sharp knife on my heart. These were the words that came out of my mouth when we made love for the first time as real men. I stare at the empty chair, where only a moment ago, the love of life was sitting.

As I collect myself and walk out of the restaurant, I hear people chant my name. "Arav, Arav." The press goes crazy with my mere sight and flashlights blind me. Click … Click … Click. I pose, I fake a smile, and I walk towards a life of deception.