The day concluded as evening slowly settled over the campus, the sky dipping into that soft orange-grey that made everything look a little calmer than it actually was. The trio walked out of their last scheduled academic torture for the day—a pharmacology lecture where, frankly, half the drug names sounded less like medicines and more like spells someone in Harry Potter would shout before accidentally blowing up a classroom.
Honestly, if someone said "Levocetirizine!" with enough conviction, Aarav was convinced something would levitate.
They reached the familiar intersection- PMC- where the path split—one leading toward the girls' hostel, the other toward the boys'. It had become such a routine pause point that their steps slowed almost automatically.
Navya stopped first.
"Well," she said, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder, "I guess that's my cue. Library plan still on?"
Karan shook his head, hands casually shoved into his pockets. "Nah. We're going to meet the room children today, remember?"
Recognition flickered across Navya's face. "Ah. Right. That thing." She made a face that was half amusement, half pity—for the poor first years who had no idea what was about to hit them. "Almost slipped my mind. I'll go with Priya then."
Her gaze flickered, just for a second, toward Aarav—who, as expected, was already looking down at his phone, fully immersed in his daily Anki ritual like a man clinging to structure for dear life.
Something silent passed between Navya and Karan then.
It was quick. Easy. Practiced.
The kind of wordless communication that came from years of existing in the same orbit without quite colliding. Same school, same city, same social circles where they'd known of each other long before they ever actually knew each other. The kind where you'd seen the other at events, thought oh, that one, and moved on.
And then somehow, university happened—and now they were here. Talking. Walking together. Teasing each other like it had always been this way.
Navya's eyes flicked toward Aarav again, a silent question.
Is he okay?
Karan gave a small nod, lips curving into a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He's…functional.
Navya nodded back, equally subtle.
Good enough.
She turned and walked off, her stride easy, unhurried—effortless in that way that made people look twice without knowing why. The kind of girl who didn't try to be noticed, but was anyway. The kind of girl other girls looked at and thought okay wait—never mind my crush, I might have a crush on her now.
Karan watched her go for half a second longer than necessary.
Then he blinked, like he'd caught himself doing something mildly incriminating, and turned back.
Aarav, of course, noticed everything.
He just didn't say anything.
Yet.
The two resumed walking.
Aarav's gaze was still glued to his phone, his thumb moving rapidly across the screen. Karan, being Karan, leaned over without invitation, peering at the screen like personal space was a suggestion.
"Anki?" he asked.
Aarav nodded, not looking up, brows slightly furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember the answer.
Karan snorted, ruffling his hair.
"Don't stare at it so hard. You'll burn a hole through your retina."
Aarav swatted his hand away, annoyed. "I couldn't do them in the morning," he muttered. "Because of him."
The emphasis said everything.
Karan's grin widened immediately.
"Tut, tut," he said, mockingly sympathetic, before—because he had no sense of self-preservation—booping Aarav's nose.
Aarav elbowed him in the abdomen.
Hard.
"Deserved," Aarav said flatly.
Karan wheezed, recovering quickly. "You didn't even say goodbye to Navya, by the way. Oh, your mind is so preoccupied by that junior. What if she's hurt or something?"
His tone was absolute nonsense. Fully loaded with mischief. Not a single ounce of sincerity.
Aarav rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't detach. "Oh please. I didn't want to interrupt your…whatever that was. Just because I don't say anything doesn't mean I don't notice your disgustingly flirty glances."
Karan froze.
Actually froze.
For a full second, his brain visibly short-circuited. A series of emotions passed over his face so quickly it was almost impressive—shock, denial, mild panic, immediate attempt at damage control.
The tips of his ears turned suspiciously red.
"What—? We weren't being flirty," he said quickly, too quickly. "You know that. We're not like that."
Aarav finally looked up from his phone.
And smiled.
Oh, how the tables had turned.
"Oh please," he huffed. "I've seen the way you look at her when you think she's not looking."
Karan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"...I don't look at her like anything," he insisted weakly. "We have nothing like that between us. We've known each other forever."
"Exactly," Aarav said, almost gleeful now. "Same city. Same school. Same college. What a coincidence. Truly shocking. Absolutely no pattern here whatsoever."
"It's not—" Karan ran a hand through his hair, mildly exasperated now. "She—I—just forget it. She would never—"
"See you like that? Like a guy?"
Karan didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Aarav raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe she's waiting for you to say something," he added, casually.
"She's not that kind of girl," Karan said immediately.
There was something softer in his voice now. Quieter.
"She's not the type to sit around waiting because 'the guy should make the first move' or whatever. If she likes someone, she'd just…do something about it. Probably out of spite." A faint, almost fond smile tugged at his lips before he caught it. "And anyway, this whole conversation is irrelevant because there is nothing like that between us."
Aarav snorted.
"Mhm. Of course. Absolutely nothing."
He paused for dramatic effect.
Then, very innocently—
"Let me just say something completely unrelated. Hypothetically. Just because someone is wired a certain way doesn't mean they act that way in every situation. Maybe the tall, confident girl is waiting to be approached. Maybe she's just as stupid as you. Just a thought. I'm not saying anything—"
He raised both hands in surrender before Karan could launch into a defensive monologue.
"—but I'm also not not saying anything."
Karan stared at him.
"You're insufferable," he said finally. "A shortcake with anger issues and a tendency to hallucinate entire narratives that do not exist."
Aarav gasped.
"Did you just—"
"I did. Shortcake."
Aarav smacked him.
Karan dodged, laughing.
"Get faster if you want to hit me, shortcake."
Aarav rolled his eyes again, but there was no real bite to it this time.
Somewhere between the teasing and the bickering, the earlier tension had loosened just enough to breathe.
And for now, at least, that was enough.