The next morning, Nikhil was in the mess at 7:15.
That in itself was suspicious behaviour.
He grabbed breakfast quickly—too quickly for someone who usually treated mornings like a personal attack—and by 7:30, he was ready and stationed at his designated post. Leaning against the same pillar like it was his throne, he checked his watch.
Again.
And again.
The sole of his shoe tapped rapidly against the floor, a steady, impatient rhythm. His gaze kept flicking to the entrance like a watchdog who had been promised a treat and was now waiting for delivery.
He was practically buzzing.
The 'daddy' bit had been a work of art.
No—more than that.
A masterpiece.
The more he replayed it in his head, the more satisfied he felt. The timing, the delivery, the absolute psychological damage—it had been perfect. Flawless. Picasso would've wept.
Nikhil felt like an artist.
And an artist does not abandon his canvas halfway through.
He was absolutely not about to let his favourite—and currently only—canvas escape him this morning.
He knew there would be a reaction.
Last evening, the senior had been too stunned. System crash. Brain error. Soul exit.
But now?
Now he'd had time to process.
Maybe he would rage. Maybe his face would go that beautiful shade of red again—God, Nikhil hadn't realised how much he liked that until recently. Maybe his voice would pitch up, sharp and furious, snapping like a wire pulled too tight.
It would be fresh.
It would be explosive.
It would be magnificent.
It was bound to be magnificent.
…But that senior never showed.
7:45 came.
7:45 went.
Nikhil's grin slowly…slid off his face.
First, his own batchmates started pouring out, loud and chaotic as usual. Then a done-with-life Anuj shuffled past, looking like a man who had already accepted his tragic fate.
Then seniors passed by—though Nikhil couldn't be bothered to identify which year. Irrelevant. Background characters.
But not him.
Not that senior.
Nikhil frowned.
Checked his watch again.
Looked up.
Nothing.
The anticipatory high drained out of him, replaced by something weirdly…annoying. Like having your favourite snack snatched away right before you take a bite.
It felt like betrayal.
From the universe itself.
The entire day felt off-kilter after that.
Like someone had replaced his daily caffeine with decaf and expected him to function normally.
He did not.
Lectures dragged. The professor's voice sounded like white noise mixed with mild suffering. Everything felt too loud, too irritating, too—
Not that senior.
The food tasted bland. Even the DH—which he very heroically bunked with a few classmates—felt boring, and that was saying something because bunking DH usually felt like winning a small but meaningful war.
Even later, at 3 AM, in a brightly lit arcade in the mall with people laughing and shouting around him, Nikhil couldn't bring himself to join in.
He just…wasn't in it.
Which was ridiculous.
Actually ridiculous.
Nikhil exhaled slowly, running a hand through his curls as he stepped out of the arcade. He paused near a glass door, catching his reflection.
He looked like someone who was waiting.
He stared at himself.
"…No," he muttered under his breath.
And then immediately—
Yeah. He was.
Irritatingly enough.
It was absurd. Nikhil Goyal did not wait for people. Ever.
And yet here he was, mentally pacing like a cat denied attention.
Preposterous.
Unacceptable.
And yet—true.
It wasn't until late evening, when he was out for a run to clear his head, that he finally got his fix.
He didn't even realise when his jog had taken him toward the library side, near the CRI building. His steps slowed.
And then—
There.
Him.
That senior.
Aarav stood a little ahead, walking slowly, gaze down at his phone. Still in uniform, apron unbuttoned, revealing the dress shirt and grey pants underneath. The late evening light softened everything, turning his skin into this warm, golden-brown that Nikhil noticed immediately—unfortunately immediately.
Time…did something weird.
Slowed, maybe.
A breeze passed through, carrying fallen purple flowers from some tree Nikhil didn't know the name of. They scattered lightly across the path between them.
For a brief, cinematic second—
Even Nikhil paused.
If this was a movie, he thought vaguely, this would be the moment the background music changes and the camera zooms in.
And then he blinked.
Right.
Focus.
Gremlin mode.
Aarav, meanwhile, was completely unaware that his personal menace had just locked onto him like a missile.
His eyes were on his phone—of course. Flashcards. Always flashcards. Earbuds in, some song playing that he wasn't even listening to.
He didn't notice when Nikhil came closer.
Didn't hear when Nikhil called out.
So naturally—
He startled when he felt a poke on his shoulder.
He turned, mildly alarmed, pulling one earbud out.
And there he was.
"—Well, look who's been avoiding me," Nikhil said, already standing beside him, that familiar, infuriating smirk firmly in place.
Aarav's heart did a small, traitorous stutter.
This guy was a walking jumpscare.
He didn't reply.
Of course he didn't.
Instead, he shoved the earbud into his apron pocket and resumed walking, gaze fixed straight ahead with the determination of a man pretending a problem doesn't exist.
Tree. Path. Building. Air molecules.
Everything except him.
Nikhil didn't look even slightly fazed.
If anything, his smirk widened.
He fell into step beside Aarav easily, like this was the most natural thing in the world.
Aarav still didn't reply.
Nikhil's grin turned sharper.
He didn't go for the old nicknames.
No.
Those felt…childish now.
Outdated.
He had upgraded.
He leaned in—close. Very close. Close enough that his mouth was right by Aarav's ear, his voice dropping into that low, deliberate drawl.
"Missed greeting you in the morning, daddy."
The effect was immediate.
And glorious.
Aarav physically recoiled like he'd been electrocuted. He stumbled to a stop, entire system glitching in real time.
Slowly—
Very slowly—
He turned.
There was no anger on his face.
Not even rage.
That would've been too easy.
Instead, his expression looked…pained.
Genuinely pained.
Brows drawn, face slightly pale, like his soul had just taken psychic damage. This wasn't just irritation anymore. This was deep, second-hand embarrassment, existential cringe, and a complete system shutdown of his nervous system.
Possibly endocrine system too.
At this point, Nikhil wasn't ruling anything out.
Aarav stared at him.
And somewhere, deep inside his mind, a very calm, very rational thought surfaced—
What is the minimum amount of force required to shove a 6'2 body into the nearest bush and run?
Nikhil watched the entire emotional breakdown unfold, eyes practically sparkling.
Oh.
Oh, this was better.
So much better than he'd imagined.
He hadn't just annoyed him.
He hadn't just gotten under his skin.
He had transcended.
This was cosmic-level torment.
No one—no one—had this kind of effect on Aarav.
Not even that friend of his.
This was new territory.
Uncharted.
And Nikhil was thriving.
With his job for the day successfully completed—and also maybe a tiny, tiny part of him acknowledging that if he pushed any further, Aarav might actually commit a crime—he leaned back and gave a cheerful two-finger salute.
"See you later."
He turned to leave.
Paused.
Because of course he did.
"-Daddy. Don't avoid me again," he added casually. "That's junior neglect."
He even made a mock crying motion near his eyes, just to really drive it home.
And then he sauntered off, hands in his pockets, like he hadn't just committed psychological warfare in broad daylight.
Behind him—
Aarav stood there.
Still.
Silent.
Utterly defeated.
Somewhere on campus, a 6'2 bodybag was on the brink of being discovered.
But unfortunately for Aarav—
The body in question was alive.
And thriving.