The next morning.
The alarm clock blared at 7:00 a.m., loud enough to qualify as a public nuisance. Anuj, who had stayed up half the night trying to force biochemistry into his brain through sheer willpower, blinked awake blearily. For a moment, he just stared at the ceiling, questioning every life choice that had led him here.
His hand came up to rub his eyes, vision still blurry, head heavy. Out of habit, his gaze drifted to the opposite bed—expecting, as usual, to find Nikhil sprawled there, unconscious and unbothered by the concept of mornings.
He froze.
Nikhil was awake.
Not just awake— upright, dressed, and functioning. Which, in itself, was alarming.
"What… happened?" Anuj asked slowly, suspicion immediately creeping into his tone. "You're ready. At 7:00. You wake up at 7, usually."
He sniffed the air, nose scrunching. "And what is that smell— cologne? That's not your usual one."
Nikhil stood in front of the mirror, calmly buttoning the cuffs of his shirt like this was a perfectly normal occurrence. His curls were still damp at the ends, water clinging to the strands, but the roots had already started doing their usual thing—fluffing up like they had a personality of their own.
There was a look in his eyes. A dangerous one. Confident. Bright. The kind that said I'm about to do something and I'm going to enjoy every second of it.
"Just felt like an early start," Nikhil replied easily, adjusting his collar so it sat just right against his neck. His movements were unhurried, deliberate—like he had all the time in the world and a plan to go with it.
"About the cologne—thought I'd switch things up a bit," he added, glancing at Anuj through the mirror. "Is it nice?"
Anuj swung his legs off the bed with a yawn, still eyeing him like he was a ticking bomb.
"Mhm. It's… well," he paused, searching for the word, "it's more subtle? But spicier. If that makes sense."
Nikhil chuckled under his breath, the sound warm and faintly pleased—like that answer had confirmed something for him.
It did not give Anuj a good feeling.
Before Anuj could question it further, Nikhil had already grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder with practiced ease.
By 7:40, Nikhil was done with breakfast and seated.
Not in class. Of course not.
He was seated at a very strategically chosen spot near the hostel entrance, leaning back like he owned the place, one leg stretched out, the other bent, gaze casually fixed on nothing in particular—except it absolutely was fixed on something.
Him.
He had asked around—subtly, of course. Not obvious enough to raise suspicion, just enough to gather crumbs. And by the power of questionable deduction and too much free time, he had come to a conclusion.
That senior left early.
Nikhil usually left at 8. He had never seen him then. Second years had an 8 a.m. lecture too. Therefore—basic logic—the senior must leave before 8.
And today, Nikhil was here to test that theory.
The minutes ticked by slowly. The morning was still quiet, the campus not fully awake yet. A few students trickled out here and there, but nothing of interest.
Then—
Footsteps.
At around 7:47.
Nikhil's attention sharpened instantly, though his posture didn't change.
Two figures stepped out.
And there he was.
That senior.
Beside him was another boy—taller, also clearly a senior, laughing about something. His arm was slung casually over Aarav's shoulders like it belonged there.
Something unpleasant twisted in Nikhil's chest.
His gaze locked, not on Aarav's face—but on that arm.
That hand.
Resting there.
His fingers twitched, an odd, instinctive urge to just—push it off his senior.
He blinked, snapping out of it.
His senior?
What the hell.
The shorter boy wasn't his anything.
It wasn't jealousy. Obviously.
He didn't like the catty senior. Not like that.
It was just… irritation.
Territorial irritation.
Yes. That made sense.
He was annoyed because up till now, he had been the one getting reactions out of him. Big reactions. Quality reactions. And now this random guy was casually earning that same scowl?
Unacceptable.
Aarav, who had been scowling because Karan had once again used him as an armrest, finally noticed the figure leaning against the pillar.
For a split second, something flickered in his eyes— surprise, irritation, maybe a hint of 'oh, for god's sake not again'.
He quickly tried to smooth it over, forcing his expression into something neutral. Like he hadn't seen him. Like Nikhil was just another piece of background furniture.
He wasn't nearly as successful as he thought.
Nikhil saw everything.
The tension. The avoidance. The very deliberate not-looking.
Oh no.
That wouldn't do at all.
As they walked past him, Nikhil didn't greet either of them. He never really did.
He didn't go for an outright insult either.
But silence?
Silence was boring.
A slow, charming smile curled onto his lips, perfectly timed.
His voice, when he spoke, was light. Almost innocent. Loud enough to carry in the otherwise quiet morning.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Karan stumbled mid-step.
Whatever he had been saying died instantly, his head snapping toward Nikhil with wide eyes that held pure, unfiltered shock— which, within seconds, shifted into something far more dangerous.
Delight.
Oh, this was good.
This was very good.
The boy had guts.
Aarav, however—
Aarav did not stop.
He kept walking.
But his steps? Noticeably tighter.
His shoulders shot up, back ramrod straight.
Oh, he'd heard it.
He had absolutely heard it.
And he was furious.
Nikhil had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning like an idiot.
This— this was better than any direct insult.
This was subtle. Annoying. Impossible to react to without looking ridiculous.
A perfect hit.
Bullseye.
The next day, Nikhil was there again at 7:45.
Because if Aarav thought that had been a one-time thing—some random act of audacity—he was very, very wrong.
No.
Nikhil didn't do one-time things.
He did patterns. Routines.
"Looking cute today, meow!"
Karan choked.
The sound that came out of him was somewhere between a laugh and a near-death experience.
Aarav's pace quickened immediately, hands clenching at his sides, jaw tightening so hard it was a miracle his teeth didn't crack.
He did not turn or respond.
But the sheer violence in his posture said enough.
And behind him, leaning casually against the pillar like he hadn't just committed verbal arson at 7:45 in the morning—
Nikhil smiled.
Bright. Shameless. Completely unrepentant.
The routine had begun.