AN: Yall if anyone was actually following this or waiting for a chapter, I am so sorry. Things just got hectic reaaly fast with uni. I swear im more consistent than this. Anyways, on with the chater-
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The opportunity soon presented itself to Nikhil — convincing the boy that this had to be fate itself. Or maybe not fate, exactly… maybe just the natural consequence of his ridiculous, stupidly consistent persistence to be at the right place at the right time and poke the beehive again. If anyone could bend destiny with sheer audacity, it was Nikhil Goyal.
Classes ended around 4, as they usually did. The last one was the usual DH — the never-ending dissection hours — where a handful of overzealous students got the *feel* of being surgeons while they were simply doing scrub work, peeling fascia off a limb like it was some mystical rite and always up in the cadaver's ass. Nikhil usually ignored the dramatics, preferring instead to sit to the side and zone out. Today was no different.
He was lost in thought again, every train of thought circling back to the same thing — or rather, the same senior.
That annoying, pretty, storm-eyed senior.
For the love of god, he could *not* get him out of his head.
And god knows he tried.
When he returned to the hostel, the first thing he did was change. It wasn't even 4:30 when he stepped out again, hair still slightly damp, shirt fresh, and face glowing with the unmistakable, terrifying glint of someone about to do something extremely stupid.
An anxious Anuj trailed after him like an overworked babysitter. That glint — that infamous 'I'm about to do something very reckless, watch me' glint — had never once led to anything peaceful.
"Where are we going?" Anuj squeaked, wringing his hands together like a worried grandmother. He scrambled to fill their names in the outgoing register — something first years were *required* to do before leaving the hostel premises after class. Of course, Nikhil couldn't be bothered. He didn't even glance at the register.
"Just—out. For a walk," Nikhil replied, casual as anything.
If there was one thing Anuj had learned while living with this reckless, golden-retriever-with-a-deathwish, it was that whenever Nikhil said that tone of "walk," it meant they were absolutely, definitely not going for a simple walk.
"Nikhil, seriously." Anuj tried again, voice trembling. "Where are we going?"
"Relax." Nikhil said, his grin already spreading, full and bright and utterly irresponsible. "As I said — just a walk."
He strode ahead without looking back to see if Anuj was following, which was classic Nikhil. He took a left, heading through the path that led to the grounds and recreational courts, walking with the confidence of a man who believed the universe was contractually obligated to obey him.
"You're going there for a walk?" Anuj exclaimed, scandalised, scrambling to keep up with Nikhil's purposeful stride. "Why can't we just go to the central park if you just want to walk—"
Nikhil didn't even dignify that with a response.
He knew Anuj didn't believe the "walk" excuse. The central park was one of the allowed areas for first years — safe, harmless, consequence-free. But Nikhil wasn't seeking safety. Or peacefulness. Or air.
What he wanted…
It could only be obtained in the so-called restricted areas — the territory seniors claimed, guarded, and enjoyed.
They reached the area with various sport courts and open grounds. By now, Anuj was pale — practically transparent — looking like a man walking into his own funeral procession.
Nikhil ignored him, eyes scanning the grounds with a hunter's focus.
And then — jackpot.
On one of the badminton courts, a group of senior girls was gathered near the net. Two of them still held rackets, laughing with flushed cheeks, probably in the middle of a break.
Perfect.
The stars had aligned. Fate was real. Or maybe fate had just learned to run faster when it saw Nikhil approaching.
He began walking toward them.
Anuj lagged behind, hissing frantically as he realised — with horror and slow, dawning clarity — exactly what his reckless roommate was about to do.
"Nikhil, no."
He looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. His shoulders hunched as if he were trying to melt into the scenery and disappear from every senior's eyesight. "What are you doing? They're seniors! We're not supposed to be here, we're not supposed to just… talk to them! Senior girls, especially!"
"I'm just being friendly," Nikhil replied, and oh, that charming grin was already settling in place like a weapon being unsheathed. He ran a hand through his hair, fluffing the light brown curls.
The evening light caught in his hazel-green eyes, making them shine a golden shade — warm, bright, and dangerously distracting.
He approached them with all the confidence of a Bollywood hero making an entrance, except less dramatic music and more reckless stupidity.
"Evening," he greeted easily.
His voice was warm, low, and disarming — a tone that had no business coming from a fresher. He didn't bow his head or act meek. He wasn't disrespectful either. He was just… charming.
Effortlessly, unfairly charming.
The girls' conversation faltered.
They turned toward him, surprise written clearly in their eyes. It wasn't difficult to guess he was a first year — they hadn't seen him before, and with his height and face, he wasn't exactly someone you forget.
"…Evening," one of them finally managed to reply.
Nikhil didn't falter. He didn't even blink. This reaction was expected. And it only amused him further.
One of the girls — long curly hair thrown into a messy ponytail, sweat still glistening on her forehead — raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a fresher? Lost, maybe?" she asked. Her tone wasn't rude, just curious, a little teasing.
It was rhetorical, of course.
They all knew a first year boy wasn't supposed to stroll up like this. Tradition discouraged it — especially with senior girls.
But then again…
The said first year boy was tall, easy on the eyes, ridiculously confident, and smiling straight at them.
Rules felt suddenly flexible.
"Nope, not lost. Just enjoying the evening, like you," Nikhil said easily. He leaned against the fence post with the relaxed grace of someone who belonged everywhere he stepped. His voice dropped slightly, conspiratorial but clearly meant for the group. "I'm trying to find a senior I… bumped into last week."
Anuj had finally gathered enough courage to shuffle closer — though he looked like he was watching a train wreck happen in slow motion. His expression said 'I'm witnessing my own death', but his body refused to flee.
He stared fixedly at the ground, as if his downcast gaze could somehow compensate for every single rule Nikhil was currently steamrolling.
Unfortunately for him, Nikhil wasn't done steamrolling anything. He was only just getting started.