The noise faded slower than Akshat expected.
Not because the fight was still going on.
But because it wasn't.
Tae-jin was already on the floor.
One of his friends clutched his ribs, struggling to breathe. Another hadn't gotten up at all. The fourth stood frozen, staring at Akshat like something had just clicked in his head—
Too late.
Akshat rolled his shoulder slightly.
It hurt.
Not enough to matter. Just enough to remind him he wasn't untouchable.
A crowd had formed.
Phones raised.
Whispers spreading like cracks through glass.
But no one stepped in.
No faculty.
No supervisors.
No security.
And that was when it clicked.
During orientation, someone had mentioned it casually—almost like a joke.
"The academy does not interfere in personal disputes between students unless deadly firearms are involved."
At the time, Akshat had dismissed it as exaggeration.
Now he understood.
It wasn't negligence.
It was policy.
A perfectly designed loophole.
If no firearms were used…
It didn't count.
No suspension.
No punishment.
No official consequences.
Akshat exhaled slowly.
Good to know.
Behind him, Tae-jin shifted, trying to sit up.
For a brief second, their eyes met.
This time—
There was no smile.
Akshat looked away first.
His attention moved back to the boy near the vending machines.
Still on his knees.
Still unmoving.
Watching him.
Not fear.
Not exactly.
Something closer to expectation.
Like he was waiting for permission to exist again.
Akshat walked toward him.
Up close, the damage was clearer. A red mark stretched across his cheek. Juice stains clung to his sleeve. His eyes still looked unfocused.
"What's your name?" Akshat asked.
The boy swallowed hard.
"A–Alexander…" His voice trembled. "Alexander Vane."
Akshat nodded once.
Alexander looked at him like something had just changed forever.
Like he was waiting for something more.
Something reassuring.
Something heroic.
He didn't get it.
"Don't let them do that again," Akshat said flatly.
Alexander blinked.
"I—I can't—"
"You can."
Akshat's voice wasn't loud.
But it wasn't soft either.
"If you keep kneeling, people will keep pushing you down."
Alexander's hands tightened slightly against the floor.
Akshat didn't wait for a response.
He turned.
And walked back.
Each step reminded him of the punch Tae-jin had landed.
By the time he reached the table, the adrenaline had worn off.
Pain had taken its place.
Aavya stood up immediately.
"You're bleeding."
"Minor," Akshat replied.
Her eyes searched his face.
Not impressed.
Not afraid.
Trying to understand.
"You didn't have to go that far," she said quietly.
"I didn't."
He picked up his tray again.
The rice had gone cold.
Behind him, he could still feel it.
Alexander's gaze.
Not gratitude.
Something heavier.
Something that lingered.
And for some reason—
That bothered him more than the fight.
---
The medical room smelled like antiseptic and something else—
Ego.
Akshat noticed them immediately.
Tae-jin.
His friends.
And a few others he hadn't seen before.
Broad shoulders.
Scarred knuckles.
Calm expressions that didn't belong in a college setting.
They weren't talking.
But they were watching.
Not with anger.
With calculation.
Akshat found that interesting.
A nurse pressed disinfectant against his split lip.
The sting was sharper than the punch that caused it.
"Try not to fight again," she muttered mechanically.
Akshat almost laughed.
After the bandages were done, he stood up.
Bad idea.
The room tilted slightly.
Before he could steady himself, Aavya moved.
Her arm slipped around his waist, holding him up.
"Don't be stupid," she said softly.
"I'm fine."
"You're not."
She didn't argue further.
She just adjusted her grip and let him lean on her.
They walked out together.
Slowly.
The hallway lights felt brighter than usual.
When he stumbled once, her grip tightened.
And that was when Akshat became aware of something he hadn't accounted for.
She was close.
Very close.
Close enough that every step brought a subtle contact against his shoulder.
Warm.
Soft.
The faint scent of her shampoo mixed with sweat lingered between them.
His body registered it before his mind did.
Heat rose up his neck.
Not from the injury.
From something far more inconvenient.
He swallowed.
Focus.
She's helping you walk.
That's it.
But awareness didn't disappear just because he told it to.
Every step reminded him.
He shifted slightly, trying to create distance.
She misunderstood.
"Does it hurt more?"
"…No."
It did.
Just not where she thought.
Her hand adjusted gently at his side, steadying him.
She didn't seem self-conscious.
Didn't seem aware.
Which somehow made it worse.
By the time they reached his room, Akshat felt more unsettled than he had during the fight.
Aavya pushed the door open with her foot and guided him inside.
"Sit."
He did.
She crouched slightly, checking the bandage near his ribs.
Her fingers were careful.
Too careful.
"You really didn't have to do that," she murmured again.
Akshat looked at her.
At the faint crease between her brows.
At the way she avoided his gaze now.
And for the first time since the fight—
Something shifted.
Not adrenaline.
Not strategy.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
Warmer.
And dangerous in a completely different way.
"I know," he said.
She stayed there a second longer than necessary.
Then stepped back.
The distance should've felt normal.
Instead—
It felt colder.
And somehow—
That bothered him more.
End of ch 13
To be continue...
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