The morning light felt heavier than usual - soft, golden, but it carried the kind of silence that made you think too much.
Aarav sat on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair. The room still smelled faintly of rain and Aveer's cologne. It shouldn't have bothered him. But it did.
Last night's argument replayed like a broken loop - the look in Aveer's eyes before he turned away, that sting in his voice when he spoke his name. It shouldn't matter. He shouldn't matter.
And yet, something in the way Aveer shut down, not angry this time, just tired, gnawed at him. Aarav tried to shake it off, opened his notes, and failed to read a single line.
"Why does this feel so… wrong?" he muttered. "He's the one who started it."
Aveer was still asleep, face half-buried in the pillow, the same blanket Aarav had left on him last night curled around his frame.
For a moment, Aarav watched quietly, the rise and fall of Aveer's breathing, the tiny frown between his brows, the peace that didn't belong to him anymore. He looked away before the thought could go further.
"Get a grip, Aarav," he whispered to himself. "You don't care."
But care had a strange way of slipping through the cracks.
Later that day, during break, Aarav spotted Arsh near the campus canteen, laughing with Aman. Something in him snapped.
"Arsh!" Aarav called out, his tone sharper than intended.
Arsh turned, startled. "What's up, bro?"
"What was that yesterday?" Aarav asked, stepping closer. "That nonsense with Aveer in the mess. Who asked you to drag his name?"
Arsh blinked. "Dude, chill. It was just a joke. You told me the guy was a bit full of himself, so i...."
"I never told you to start a fight." Aarav's voice dropped, low and cold now. "You think you're funny, but you don't know what you're messing with."
Arsh scoffed. "You defending him now? The same guy you hated? What's this, sympathy arc?"
Aarav's jaw clenched. He wanted to say it wasn't that - that it wasn't pity, just… something else. But the words wouldn't come.
"Just don't do that again," Aarav said instead, turning away. "He's not like that anymore."
Arsh raised an eyebrow. "You sure you're talking about him or yourself?"
Aarav didn't respond. He walked off, heart beating faster than it should have. He hated this - this weird tension, this uninvited guilt.
And he didn't realize that a few steps away, someone had heard every word.
Aveer had come to return a borrowed file to Aman and stopped short when he saw Aarav speaking with Arsh.
He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But when he heard his name - "don't do that again… he's not like that anymore" - something inside him twisted.
He should've felt angry. But all he felt was confusion.
Why would Aarav defend him? Why now, after all these years?
Aveer left quietly, the weight in his chest both heavier and lighter at once.
Classes ended early, the sky already heavy with clouds again. Aarav stood near the gate, scrolling through his phone, when he noticed a familiar umbrella leaning against the wall in the room earlier that morning , Aveer's.
He groaned. "Idiot forgot it again."
Something in him clicked before he could stop himself - he grabbed it.
It wasn't concern, at least that's what he told himself.
He just didn't want the guy to come back drenched and get sick.
That would only mean more drama, more tension.
That's all. Practical reasoning.
The wind had already started to pick up as Aarav stepped out of the PG. The roads were crowded, the sky grey, a drizzle starting to fall.
He spotted him not too far ahead - Aveer, walking fast, holding a few books under his arm, his hair already wet.
Aarav picked up his pace, planning to call out.
Then Aveer stopped.
A girl was standing there under a shade, long hair, light smile, eyes that lit up when she saw him. Shivi. Aarav had seen her once before in the corridor of the coaching building.
Aveer smiled - not the sarcastic kind, not the one he used for defense. A real one
She said something, he laughed softly, and they both turned toward a nearby cafe.
Aarav froze mid-step.
The umbrella suddenly felt heavier in his hand.
He could've called out. He could've walked over. But his feet wouldn't move.
What was this?
Why did something about that smile , that ease , twist something inside his chest?
He didn't even like the guy.
He shouldn't care who he met, who he smiled at, who made him laugh like that.
And yet…
He exhaled sharply.
"Pathetic. He can laugh with anyone he wants. None of my damn business."
He turned around and started walking back. The drizzle thickened into rain, cold drops hitting his face.
By the time he reached the PG, his shirt was half soaked, and the umbrella he'd carried for someone else hung uselessly at his side.
He dropped it near the door and sat on his bed, staring blankly at the window.
The city outside blurred into streaks of rain and passing headlights.
"Why does it bother me?" he muttered under his breath. "What the hell is wrong with me?"
But no answer came - just the steady rhythm of rain against the glass and a name he couldn't shake from his mind.
It was close to midnight when I got back.
The streets were quiet, slick with rain, and for the first time in years, I actually felt… light.
Shivi was easy to talk to, her laughter didn't come with judgment, her questions didn't feel like traps.
I hadn't realized how much I'd missed feeling normal until today.
But the smile faded the moment I opened the door to the room.
The lights were off. The air felt heavier than usual.
And there he was - Aarav - sitting on the edge of his bed, head bent low, the faint glow of his phone lighting half his face.
He didn't even look up when I entered.
I flicked on the dim lamp near my side of the bed and froze for a second, the umbrella.
Mine. Leaning neatly near the door.
"You went out?" I asked, frowning.
Aarav's tone was flat, defensive. "You forgot this. I thought you'd need it."
"You… came to give me my umbrella?" I tried not to sound surprised, but it came out anyway.
"Yeah," he said, a little too quickly. "Don't read into it. I just didn't want you coming back drenched and whining about it later."
His voice was calm, but something in it cracked halfway through, like he was talking to himself more than me.
I took a few steps forward. "You waited here?"
"No," he said, though his eyes betrayed the truth. "Just got back a while ago."
I caught a strange stiffness in his movements, his hand trembling slightly as he set his phone down.
"Are you okay?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"I'm fine."
He clearly wasn't. I reached out before I could stop myself, my palm brushed against his forehead.
He flinched.
"Aarav, you're burning up."
"I said I'm fine, Aveer," he muttered, voice rougher now. "Go… go to sleep."
I didn't listen. I grabbed the water bottle from the table and soaked a hand towel, pressing it against his forehead.
He tried to push my hand away, but his body had already given up on strength.
"Don't be stubborn for once," I muttered, adjusting the towel. "You look like you'll pass out any second."
He gave a tired chuckle. "Didn't know you cared."
"I don't," I said quickly, though my hand didn't move. "I just don't want a dead roommate."
The silence that followed was strangely heavy. The kind that carried everything neither of us dared to say.
He was half-conscious when he whispered, "You shouldn't have stayed out so late… with her."
It caught me off guard. "Excuse me?"
"Nothing," he said faintly, eyes closing. "Forget I said that."
I stared at him for a long time. His breathing slowed, his face softening under the dim light.
The anger I'd carried since the day we met again suddenly felt too small, too useless.
I sat beside his bed - telling myself I'd move in a minute, that I'd just make sure he was okay.
But the minute turned into an hour.
Somewhere in the quiet hum of the fan and the distant thunder outside, I realized I hadn't looked away from him once.
He looked peaceful.
Almost like the Aarav I used to know before everything went wrong.
The faint hum of birds pulled me out of half-sleep. For a second, I forgot where I was.
Then I saw him.
Aarav, lying there under the blanket I'd thrown over him sometime before dawn, his face calm, the flush on his cheeks fading.
He looked… human again.
Not the arrogant boy I'd argued with, not the ghost of my past.
Just a tired man sleeping through the morning light.
I stretched, my neck stiff from spending the night on the edge of his bed. My hand still rested near his, close enough to feel the warmth radiating through the blanket.
How long had I been sitting here like this?
The room felt different today.
Quieter. Softer.
Aarav stirred, groaning low. His eyes blinked open slowly, still hazy from fever but clear enough to see me beside him.
"You—" he croaked. "You stayed?"
I shrugged, pretending it was nothing. "Someone had to make sure you didn't die in your sleep."
He gave a weak laugh that slipped into a cough. "You're bad at pretending you don't care, you know that?"
"Shut up," I muttered, looking away. "I just didn't want the PG owner finding a corpse in our room."
"Sure," he said softly, smiling, this small, genuine thing that didn't reach his eyes but somehow still felt warm.
The silence that followed wasn't sharp anymore.
It was… bearable.
I reached for the glass of water, held it out.
He took it, his fingers brushing mine by accident. Just a second, nothing more. But it sent something flickering through my chest that I didn't have a name for.
He noticed it too.
Neither of us spoke.
The morning light slipped through the half-drawn curtains, painting the room gold. The air smelled faintly of damp air, tea brewing somewhere downstairs, and the smallest hint of calm.
Aarav cleared his throat. "You should… get ready. You'll be late for coaching."
"I know," I said, standing up. "Try not to faint again while I'm gone."
He smiled faintly. "Noted."
I turned toward the door, but before stepping out, I paused.
For the first time since we'd met again, I didn't feel angry when I looked at him.
Just… something I couldn't push away.
Aveer left the room.
A knock echoed on the door, breaking the fragile calm.
Aarav looked up, still sitting on the bed, when the door creaked open.
Arsh and Aman stepped in, balancing a tray between them - a flask of tea, toast, and a small bowl of fruits.
"Morning, sick boy," Arsh said with a grin. "Got you breakfast delivery, courtesy of your roommate."
Aarav frowned. "What?"
Aman chuckled, setting the tray on the table. "Yeah, Aveer came down before leaving for coaching. Asked us to bring this up for you."
"He said you wouldn't eat if someone didn't make you," Arsh added, tone softer now. "Guess he knows you better than you think."
Aarav blinked, words caught in his throat. "He—he asked you to do this?"
Arsh nodded. "Yeah. And before you say it, no, he didn't threaten us. He actually said please."
The word hung in the air like something impossible.
Aarav stared at the tray - the steam rising from the tea, the neat way the food was set, as if Aveer had cared enough to make sure it was done right.
"He really said please?" Aarav asked again, half to himself.
"Yep," Aman replied, smiling faintly. "Didn't look like he wanted to, though."
They both laughed lightly before heading out, leaving Aarav alone with his disbelief.
The room felt quiet again, but this time it wasn't empty, it was full of something he couldn't explain.
He stared at the tray for a long time, running a hand through his hair, still trying to understand what this was.
Yesterday, Aveer had called him a jerk.
This morning, he'd stayed up taking care of him.
Now, he'd sent breakfast.
Aarav let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the wall.
His heart felt too full for a reason that had nothing to do with fever.
The coaching building buzzed with the usual morning chaos when I walked in - students hurrying down the hall, the air thick with the smell of wet notebooks and instant coffee.
I glanced at the clock above the door.
9:10 a.m.
Great. Late again.
Shivi spotted me first, waving from the back row. "Look who finally decided to show up!"
Beside her, Reyansh smirked, spinning his pen between his fingers. "What happened, lover boy? Missed your alarm or someone kept you up all night?"
I dropped my bag onto the desk. "Someone had fever. I had to take care of him."
Reyansh raised an eyebrow. "Him? As in your mysterious roommate? The one you keep calling a jerk?"
"Yeah," I muttered, flipping through my notes. "Don't read too much into it. He would've died if I didn't help."
Shivi leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Aveer Singh playing Florence Nightingale for his enemy? That's a first."
"It wasn't like that," I said quickly, though my voice cracked just enough for them to notice.
Reyansh laughed. "Sure, sure. You only stayed up all night for a guy you 'don't care about.' Sounds completely logical."
"Exactly," Shivi teased. "Next thing you'll tell us you made him soup and tucked him in."
"Can you both shut up and let me study?" I said, half-smiling despite myself.
Shivi leaned back with a grin. "We're just saying, Aveer. People don't lose sleep over someone unless they feel something."
I rolled my eyes. "You two seriously need new hobbies."
But even as I said it, my mind flicked back to last night - the heat of his skin under my hand, the way his voice had gone quiet when I'd told him to rest.
I shook the thought off, pretending to focus on the whiteboard.
Reyansh elbowed me lightly. "See? You're blushing."
"I'm not," I said too fast.
Shivi laughed softly. "Whatever you say, Mr. Denial."
The lecture started, voices dimming around me, but I barely heard a word.
Their jokes shouldn't have mattered. They were ridiculous.
And yet, for reasons I couldn't explain, the sound of his voice kept echoing in my head.
The evening sky was pale gold when classes ended.
I'd picked up a few medicines from the pharmacy nearby, stuffed them in my bag along with a small parcel of food. Shivi and Reyansh walked beside me, chatting about random things, how boring the lecture was, how the canteen samosas were getting smaller every day.
"You're taking food for your roommate again?" Reyansh asked, smirking.
"He's still a little sick," I said, keeping my tone neutral.
Shivi grinned. "And you say you don't care about him."
"Can we not start again?" I muttered, though I couldn't hide the faint smile that slipped out.
When we reached the PG, the corridor was quiet except for the hum of a ceiling fan somewhere.
I unlocked the room - Aarav was sitting on the bed, reading through his notes, his hair still damp from a shower.
He looked up, surprise flickering across his face when he saw who was with me.
"You brought guests?" Aarav asked dryly.
"Brought dinner," I replied, holding up the packet. "You didn't eat lunch."
Shivi smiled politely. "Hi, I'm Shivi, his classmate."
Aarav nodded stiffly. "Oh, so you're the one from the coffee shop."
The words were calm, but the tone… wasn't.
Reyansh chuckled awkwardly. "We just dropped by. He insisted on buying you this, by the way."
"Did he?" Aarav said, glancing at me. "That's… new."Before I could respond, Shivi chimed in, oblivious to the tension. "He's been taking care of everyone lately. Did you know he can't drink tea without two spoons of sugar? And he gets headaches if he skips breakfast."
Aarav's jaw tightened. "No, I didn't," he said, voice clipped. "Guess you know him better than I do."
The air shifted. Reyansh caught it instantly. "Okay, okay, time to leave before this turns into a family drama."
Shivi laughed softly, then turned to me. "You can drop me home, right? It's getting late".
"Yeah, of course," I said without thinking.
Aarav didn't say anything, but his silence was louder than a thousand words.
Later That Night
The room was dim when I came back, streetlights bleeding through the curtains.
Aarav sat by the window, arms crossed, staring out like the city owed him answers.
"You didn't have to wait up," I said, setting my bag down.
He didn't turn around. "Didn't plan to. Couldn't sleep."
I sighed. "What's your problem now?"
"My problem?" He turned, eyes sharp. "Maybe the fact that you suddenly turned into the Florence Nightingale of Lucknow. Running around with your new friends, playing caretaker. Didn't know you had so much free time."
I blinked. "You're jealous?"
He laughed - short, humorless. "Don't flatter yourself."
"Then what is it?" I shot back, voice rising. "You hate me for caring, you hate me for ignoring, you hate me for breathing. Pick one."
"I don't..." He stopped mid-sentence, fists clenched. "You wouldn't get it."
"Try me," I said quietly.
He met my eyes for a heartbeat, and for the first time, there was no anger there - just something raw, almost desperate.
But before either of us could speak again, he turned away.
"Forget it," he muttered. "Just go to sleep."
I wanted to argue, to demand an explanation, but the weight in his voice stopped me.
The room went still - the kind of silence that hides everything you're too scared to say.
Aarav's POV:
He says I hate him, maybe I do. But if hate feels this heavy, this restless, then why does it sound so much like longing?
Aveer's POV:
He can't even look me in the eye, yet somehow his silence burns louder than words ever could. Maybe the past isn't the only thing we're both afraid of anymore.
"Maybe hate was easier to say aloud, because admitting it was jealousy would make it too real."
To be continued....