The evening sun dipped low, staining the sky in soft amber. Shadows stretched long across the university ground, where the scent of damp grass mixed with the distant echo of whistles from the training field.
Abhi sat on a bench, his posture loose, one arm resting on the backrest, yet his gaze was unfocused—drifting somewhere far beyond the chatter around him.
Beside him, Vihan leaned forward, phone glowing in his hand, a wide grin tugging at his boyish face.
"Brother must be so happy, living with his love… enjoying the semester break."
Dino smirked, stretching his legs lazily. "You should be happy for them… or are you jealous?"
Vihan wrinkled his nose, shoving the thought away. "I'm not the jealous type. I just want a break from this practice." He turned, tugging at Karan's sleeve. "Right, Senior?"
Karan only chuckled, his calm smile warm as his hand ruffled through Vihan's hair.
Dino rolled his eyes, unimpressed. His gaze slid toward Abhi, who hadn't spoken a word. A mischievous grin curled across his lips.
"Doesn't this boy have a lover too?"
The words landed like a pebble in still water. Conversations stilled, eyes turned.
Abhi didn't move. Didn't answer. His lashes lowered, expression unreadable.
Dino, unwilling to let silence win, stepped closer. He crouched slightly and cupped Abhi's face between both palms, squeezing lightly as if teasing a younger brother.
"Don't tell me you're hiding someone from us?"
Abhi jolted at the touch, shoulders stiffening. The dazed, startled look in his eyes made the others soften, smiles tugging at their lips.
But then—the air shifted.
A weight fell over the ground, unseen but undeniable. Laughter caught in throats. Jokes died. Even the wind seemed to still.
Dino's palms dropped from Abhi's face instinctively, like prey retreating at the scent of a predator.
Abhi blinked, following the silence. His eyes widened when he saw.
There—Arun stood a short distance away. Tall. Still. His sharp form carved against the setting sun, every line of his posture unyielding. The kind of presence that silenced a crowd without saying a word.
Abhi's lips parted before he could stop himself. "Young—"
But Arun's eyes locked onto his, dark and unwavering, and the word faltered.
His voice cut through the quiet, low and certain. "We can leave if you're done playing."
It wasn't a suggestion.
Abhi's pulse quickened, heat rising to his face. He forced his voice steady, though it caught at the edges.
"I… I'm going with Vihan and Dino. We have to discuss the syllabus for next semester."
The excuse was flimsy even to his own ears.
Arun didn't blink. Didn't break eye contact. He stepped forward, measured and slow, until the distance dissolved. Then his hand closed around Abhi's wrist—firm, steady, unyielding but never cruel.
Leaning down, his breath brushed close to Abhi's ear, his words meant for him alone.
"Next time, pick an excuse that suits you."
The low timbre of his voice. The heat of his grip. Abhi's heart stumbled, pounding against his ribs.
Before resistance could even form, Arun straightened and turned, guiding him forward. His hold wasn't a drag. Wasn't a command. Yet it left no space to stay behind.
The others stayed frozen in place. They all knew Abhi—if he didn't want to go, no one could move him.
And yet, he went. This wasn't force. It was something else. Something only the two of them understood.
...
[Later—Singh Mansion]
The door creaked open.
Silence pressed in, heavy and unmoving—an unnatural stillness that only amplified the strain etched into Arun's features. His usual mask of composure was gone. He wasn't restless, but the rigid set of his shoulders, the tight line of his jaw, made it look like he was bracing himself against something inevitable.
Abhi followed behind, confusion flickering in his dark eyes. Arun's grip had been firm when dragging him here, but now, in the tense quiet, uncertainty clawed at his chest.
"…What's wrong?" His voice was steady, but his fingers twitched against his sides, betraying the unease gnawing at him.
Arun turned at the sound. His sharp profile caught the light, stillness shifting into something resolute. His gaze fixed on Abhi—steady, unblinking, unreadable.
Without a word, he stepped forward.
Abhi instinctively retreated, each step back matching Arun's advance. His breath caught when he searched Arun's eyes, but found no answers there—only that intensity, heavy and consuming.
"Se… Senior…" His voice was little more than a whisper, lips trembling slightly as he spoke.
Arun didn't stop.
For the first time, Abhi's confidence cracked. That gaze unsettled him, stripped him of the calm front he always wore. The wall pressed cold against his back—thud—and there was nowhere left to go.
Arun stopped close. Too close. His breath fanned against Abhi's cheek, warm and steady. One hand lifted and pressed against the wall by Abhi's head, caging him in with quiet dominance.
"Why did you suddenly start calling me 'Senior'?" His voice was calm, but the weight beneath it made Abhi's chest tighten.
Abhi swallowed hard, throat bobbing. The vague memory of a kiss—half dream, half reality—surged through him, heat pooling at his cheeks.
He turned his face away, fist clenching at his side as if to anchor himself.
"I… I'm…" The words trembled, fragile, searching for escape.
Arun leaned closer, the last sliver of space dissolving between them. His lips brushed the air beside Abhi's ear. "You came to my room last night?"
Abhi froze. His heartbeat thundered, drumming loud enough to drown the silence.
"I didn't," he whispered, though the denial wavered, brittle.
Arun studied him for a long moment. His eyes softened—not weak, but weighted with something quiet and vulnerable. When he spoke again, his voice dropped lower, almost gentle.
"If you feel disgusted… you can go back to your house." A pause. "I'll bring Ayan back."
The word disgust struck like a blade. Abhi's expression twisted, discomfort rippling through his features. The thought of Arun believing that of him—of them—made his chest ache. Yet Ayan's name pulled at him too, a reminder of his brother's happiness.
Something inside him snapped.
Before his doubts could drag him back, he reached forward, hands trembling as they caught Arun's face. And then—he kissed him. Quick. Unplanned. A desperate collision of warmth.
Arun froze.
Time fractured. His breath caught, heat rushing through him in a way he couldn't suppress. He had been prepared for rejection, for denial, for cold refusal—anything but this. Slowly, his shoulders eased, the sharp line of his eyes softening into something raw, something unguarded.
He didn't pull away. Not at once.
When he finally did, it was only to see Abhi clearly, gaze lingering on his flushed cheeks and parted lips.
"…Abhi." His name slipped out low, almost tender.
The sound jolted Abhi like lightning. Panic surged, scrambling his thoughts. It was too much. Too close.
He tore himself free, avoiding Arun's gaze, heart racing wildly.
"I'm… I'm sorry!"
And then he fled, footsteps echoing through the hall before silence swallowed the room again.
Arun remained motionless, rooted to the spot. His hand drifted upward, fingers brushing his lips where the ghost of the kiss lingered. A soft, almost embarrassed smile tugged at his mouth. Amusement flickered in his eyes.
Abhi had never looked so shaken. And Arun… couldn't help but be charmed by it.
---
[Abhi's Room]
The door slammed shut. Abhi leaned against it, chest heaving, his pulse thundering out of rhythm. His hands shook as he pressed them against his face.
"Idiot… stupid… I should've stayed in my room last night…" he muttered, pacing across the floor, steps unsteady.
The memory of Arun's warmth returned with every heartbeat. His lips tingled, his chest tightened. He stopped mid-pace, burying his face in his hands. Why did I do that?
He dropped onto the bed with a heavy thump, gripping the sheets as though they could ground him. Staring blankly at the ceiling, he exhaled a shaky sigh.
Rustle.
A faint whisper of dry leaves stirred against the balcony doors.
Abhi stiffened. His head snapped toward the sound.
Outside, darkness pressed against the glass. Distant streetlights traced the vague outlines of trees, unmoving. The night was still—unnaturally so.
Goosebumps rose along his arms. He swallowed hard, dragging the blanket over himself like a shield. Curling under its weight, he whispered into the fabric—
"Facing a ghost would be easier than facing him."