Anuj slipped back into his room after their earlier conversation, the weight of the evening still lingering on his shoulders. The corridor had been quiet, the usual chatter of students replaced by the hum of distant ceiling fans. When he pushed open the door, though, the room was empty. Nikhil wasn't there. His neatly done bed was undisturbed, his shoes lined up perfectly by the door — all painfully still. Anuj frowned, checking the clock on the wall. It had been hours since sunset. He hadn't seen Nikhil on his way either. Where the hell had he gone?
He sat on the edge of the bed, drumming his fingers against his knee, half-worried, half-annoyed. With every minute, his imagination grew worse. Maybe Nikhil had gone to pick a fight with some other senior now. Maybe he'd run into trouble. Or maybe — the most terrifying thought — he'd simply decided to switch rooms.
An hour crawled by before the door finally clicked open.
Nikhil walked in. His expression wasn't foul, but there was a stiffness to his shoulders, and his fists were clenched just a little too tightly — like he was still holding onto the remnants of a conversation that hadn't gone his way.
Anuj was on his feet immediately, his concern bursting out all at once. "Where were you?!" he demanded, his tone a mix of panic and relief.
Nikhil blinked, taken aback by the sheer urgency in the question. He'd been delayed at the administrative building, cornered into an unpleasant chat with the dean. The words still echoed in his head, leaving behind a bitter taste. He had chosen this college precisely because he wanted anonymity — a place where no one whispered about his father's name. But of course, even here, the ghost of influence followed him like a shadow.
"Had to pick something up," he lied smoothly, shrugging off the question as if it were nothing more than a grocery errand.
Anuj didn't press further. His mind was already spiralling toward something else — something far more alarming. "There was a senior who stopped me," he began, his voice breathless. "He was describing you! Said you were a giant — and that your face looked like an egg! Then he changed it and said not an egg, but like... like a golden retriever who learned to walk on its hind legs. I prayed he was talking about someone else, but the description matched you perfectly. You're the only giant golden retriever I know!" He ended miserably, his hands flailing. "What did you do?"
Realisation dawned on Nikhil's face like a dull thud. "...Puddle guy."
Anuj blinked. "What puddle guy?" He grabbed Nikhil by the shoulders, shaking him slightly, as if the physical motion would rattle out the truth. "What did you do?!"
"I didn't do anything!" Nikhil snapped, rolling his eyes. Normally, he'd indulge Anuj's dramatics — the boy had a flair for panic that bordered on theatrical — but right now, his patience was thin. The dean's lecture had already scraped his nerves raw. "It was an accident. We bumped into each other, he fell, I apologised."
"He... fell?" Anuj froze. An image flickered through his mind — that same senior, sitting on a bench earlier, one ankle propped up. At the time, he hadn't paid much attention. Now, the dots connected with horrifying clarity.
"Is that how he twisted his ankle?!"
Nikhil winced slightly. He'd known the fall hadn't looked pleasant, but he'd assumed the guy was fine. Still, his irritation quickly overrode any flicker of guilt. "His ankle's twisted?" he muttered, running a hand down his face. "Great. What's next, he wants a compensation letter? What did he want, anyway — a dry cleaning bill?"
Anuj shook his head, wringing his hands. "No. He asked for your name! Told me to find out and meet him at 7:50 tomorrow morning. He's searching for you, Nikhil. And looking at him — oh, he looked furious! Said your eyes looked like an ill-kept lawn that's been trampled by muddy boots and peed on by stray dogs!"
Nikhil's jaw tightened. Up till now, he'd only been irritated — but this? This was personal. He'd said sorry. It was an accident. Yet this random senior thought he could launch a manhunt and insult his eyes? His eyes?
"It was an accident," Nikhil said evenly, his voice low but seething underneath. "I said I was sorry. What's that bastard's problem?"
"I don't know!" Anuj was nearly hyperventilating, pacing the small space between the beds. "But he's after you. He's definitely after you. I'll—I'll tell him I couldn't find out your name. I'll make something up!" His expression softened, eyes wide and shining with an odd kind of loyalty — like they were two soldiers about to face certain doom together. "But Nikhil, please. Keep your head down. Don't let him see you. Just... avoid him until this blows over."
Nikhil looked at Anuj's terrified face, then turned toward the window, his reflection caught faintly in the glass. Somewhere out there, that infuriating senior — with his perfect hair and exaggerated insults — was probably still ranting about him, maybe even poking pins into a little straw doll with curly hair and "peed-on lawn" eyes.
A slow, dangerous smile spread across Nikhil's face. It wasn't his usual sunny grin — the one that made people forgive him too easily — nor the polite, restrained one he wore when he was irritated. This one had sharp edges. Challenge gleamed in it.
"No need for that," Nikhil said finally, clapping Anuj on the shoulder.
Anuj's stomach dropped. That smile was not good. That was the kind of smile villains wore right before the second half of a revenge arc. "W-what do you mean, 'no need'?" he stammered.
"I mean," Nikhil said lazily, running a hand through his curls, "there's no need for you to lie. You can tell him my name. Or better yet—" he paused, a spark of reckless amusement lighting his tone— "since he's so desperate to find me, I'll save him some trouble. I'll introduce myself in person tomorrow."
He grinned wider, the expression equal parts mischief and defiance. "Instead of a name... he'll get the whole person."
Anuj could only gape at him, horror dawning like slow sunlight. "You're insane," he whispered.
Maybe he was. But Nikhil had never been one to back down from trouble. The beehive had been identified. And Nikhil — being Nikhil — couldn't resist the urge to give it a good, solid whack, just to see what happened next.
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