It was already seven in the morning. The air outside the window felt fresh and calm - nothing like what was brewing inside the room.
Aveer woke to the sharp buzz of Aarav's alarm. The sound grated on his nerves, so he reached over, shut it off, and rolled back to sleep as if nothing had happened.
An hour later Aarav's phone rang. Half asleep, he fumbled for it.
Arsh's name flashed on the screen.
"Why are you calling so early, idiot?" Aarav muttered in his deep, sleepy voice.
"Early? It's eight, fool. Aren't you coming for breakfast? I'm waiting in the mess," Arsh shot back.
"What? Eight?" Aarav sat up straight. "I set my alarm for seven!
Aveer, you...." He groaned. "Son of a bitch, why the hell would you turn it off?"
Aveer rubbed his eyes, confused. "What's your problem? Why are you shouting this early? What demon bit you?"
"Not a demon...you!" Aarav snapped. "I've got class at eight-thirty and no time for your nonsense." He jumped out of bed, grabbed his towel, and made for the washroom.
Aveer caught the door just as Aarav tried to pull it open.
"Who said you're going first? I need to get ready for coaching too."
"What are you talking about? I'll be late! My professor will have me standing outside on the first day!" Aarav's voice rose, edged with urgency.
"That's your problem," Aveer shot back. "It's a shared room, not your personal kingdom. I'm going first."
They glared at each other - two grown boys bickering like kittens over a bowl of milk. Neither moved.
Both of them tried to enter the washroom first, pulling at the door and pushing each other.
"You haven't changed a bit, Aveer," Aarav said, frustration cutting through his tone. "Still the same as four years ago. You still suck."
The words hit harder than Aveer expected. His hand slipped from the door handle as if the sentence itself had burned him.
Aarav, in too much of a hurry to notice, pushed the door closed behind him and disappeared into the washroom.
Aveer stayed where he was, frozen. The echo of Aarav's words hung in the air like smoke.
Four years.
He didn't want to remember - but memories have a cruel way of forcing themselves in.
Aveer sat on the bed in silence for a moment.
The boy who could argue for his rights, who never backed down, who wasn't afraid of anyone - why did a few careless words sting this much?
How dare he say that? What did he even think of himself?
Am i the one at fault? No. It had always been him. I would never forgive him for what he did.
He clenched his fists, trying to steady the anger rising in his chest.
Aveer, you need to be strong, he told himself. You did nothing wrong. You don't have to carry the weight of those worthless words. He is nothing - just… useless living junk.
Still, another thought crept in.
Did he really forget what he did to me? How could he act like none of it had happened?
He exhaled sharply and forced the thoughts away.
"Leave it, Aveer," he muttered under his breath. "This isn't the time to dig up the past. If he doesn't care, why should I?"
The sound of running water stopped. A minute later, the washroom door clicked open and Aarav walked out, towel draped around his waist, hair still dripping.
Aveer didn't look up; he stayed seated, pretending to scroll through his phone. The air in the room felt thick again, the kind of silence that felt like something was left unsaid.
Aarav hesitated for a second, as if he was about to say something, but then sighed.
"You can use it now," he said quietly, trying to sound casual.
"I wasn't waiting for your permission," Aveer said flatly.
As he brushed past Aarav toward the bathroom, he pulled the towel off Aarav's waist.
"And don't use my towel next time, idiot."
Aarav blinked, startled,"It was the same colour....I got confused," he muttered.
"Whatever," Aveer said, slamming the door of washroom.
Aarav left for college soon after, bag slung over his shoulder and earbuds already in place.
Aveer stepped out of the washroom a few minutes later, running a towel through his damp hair. The faint scent of lotion filled the room as he dressed, his movements quick but unhurried. His frame was lean, his skin still flushed from the warm water.
"I need to hurry or I'll be late for the admission process," he muttered, checking his reflection once before gathering his documents.
He locked the room behind him and hurried down the stairs, the sound of his footsteps fading into the morning noise of the corridor.
Outside, the morning noise of Lucknow hit him - rickshaws honking, vendors calling, a patchy sun pushing through the clouds.
He found the auto-stand crowded, drivers bargaining over fare, the usual chaos of a city that never slowed down.
The air smelled of dust and rain, and for a while the city blurred around him. Every so often, Aarav's voice from that morning echoed in his head, and he shook it off like a song he didn't want stuck there.
The coaching centre was even louder: students everywhere, parents waiting outside, the buzz of new beginnings.
At the coaching centre;
Aveer stood in line for the admission process, filling forms, handing over documents, trying to look composed while his mind drifted back to the room he'd just left.
You didn't change a bit, Aveer.
The words slipped back in, unwanted.
He forced himself to focus, signed the last form, collected his ID card. When he stepped out, the rain had started again - soft, almost polite.
For the first time that morning, Aveer smiled faintly. "New city, new start," he whispered, as if saying it aloud might make it true.
It was already noon, and the rain showed no sign of stopping. People huddled under the shade of tea stalls and parked scooters, waiting for a break in the downpour.
"Don't you have an umbrella?"
The voice came from behind him, soft, lilting. Aveer turned to see a girl standing there, a stack of documents pressed to her chest, her hair loose and dark from the drizzle.
"I'm asking you," she said again, smiling a little.
"No, I don't," Aveer admitted. "I didn't think it would rain today."
She tilted her head, thoughtfully. "You can take mine then. My dad's on his way to pick me up, so I won't need it. Return it tomorrow, okay? What's your classroom...show me your ID."
Aveer fished it out, and she leaned closer to read it.
"Oh, Aveer. I'm Shivi. We're in the same batch."
She handed him the umbrella before he could reply. "See you tomorrow."
And just like that, she was gone, disappearing into the blur of rain and traffic.
Aveer stood there for a second, blinking. Was that real? It felt like a scene pulled from someone else's life.
He looked down at the umbrella in his hand and let out a quiet laugh. "An angel with perfect timing," he murmured.
The rain grew heavier, forcing him to move. He flagged down an auto and headed back to the PG, the city glistening under a curtain of water.
By the time he reached, it was already 2 pm.
Aveer sat on the bed, towel still around his neck, the sound of rain whispering against the window.
The thought of that girl kept circling back in his mind - her smile, the way she spoke, how unreal the whole moment had felt. For the first time in days, something had actually made him feel lighter.
He was lost in the memory when the door opened.
Aarav stepped in, shaking the rain from his hair, his bag slung over one shoulder. The air between them shifted instantly - soft thoughts replaced by the sharp reminder of reality.
Aveer straightened up, pretending to check his phone.
"Back already?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
"Yeah," Aarav said shortly, dropping his bag on the chair. "College ended early. Guess you made it through the storm too."
The small talk hung awkwardly between them, like the last thing Aveer wanted but couldn't avoid.
Aarav's gaze shifted to the faint smile at Aveer's lips and the umbrella leaning against the bedframe.
He smirked. "Didn't know rain makes you this happy, or did someone gift you that umbrella?"
Aveer's head snapped up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Aarav said, stretching lazily. "Just that you looked like someone who saw a rainbow for the first time. Must've been a special umbrella."
"Keep your comments to yourself," Aveer shot back, tossing his phone aside. "Not everyone spends their time flirting in the name of music."
"Oh? So there is someone." Aarav's grin widened, his tone laced with mock curiosity.
"Who's the lucky one who managed to make the great Aveer smile?"
Aveer clenched his jaw, trying to ignore him.
"It's none of your business," he muttered, standing up to put the umbrella away.
Aarav chuckled. "Right. Just make sure she knows you're a real delight to live with."
Aveer turned to him, glare sharp enough to cut through the drizzle outside. "And you make sure your mouth doesn't get you in trouble again."
The room fell quiet for a few seconds, thunder rolled somewhere in the distance, echoing the tension between them.
Two storms, one inside the room and one outside, waiting to see which would break first.
The silence stretched between them until Aarav broke it, rummaging through his bag.
He pulled out a wrapped chocolate bar, frowning.
"Ughh. Arsh must've dumped this in my bag again," he muttered under his breath. "He knows I don't eat this junk."
He looked at the bar for a second before tossing it toward Aveer.
"Here. Maybe it's better to give someone in need than let it rot in my bag."
Aveer caught it midair, startled.
"What the hell is this supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Aarav said casually, pulling off his hoodie. "You look like you could use a little sugar rush. Might sweeten your attitude."
Aveer glared at him, gripping the chocolate tighter than necessary. "Keep your pity to yourself. I'm not your charity case."
Aarav smirked, unbothered. "Didn't say you were. Just didn't want it to go to waste."
Aveer tossed the chocolate onto the table, muttering, "You're still the same arrogant jerk."
"Good," Aarav replied, lying down on his bed. "At least I'm consistent."
Aveer stared at the chocolate for a long time before finally picking it up. He didn't eat it - just stared, as if it carried something he couldn't quite place.
Aveer's gaze drifted to the chocolate again. It was the same brand, his favourite since school.
His fingers brushed over the familiar wrapper, tracing its edges.
Did he still remember? Or was it just a coincidence?
Aveer sighed softly, shaking his head as if to chase away the thought.
Coincidence, Definitely.
The Aarav he knew wouldn't remember something that small.
Still, he placed the chocolate carefully inside his drawer instead of throwing it away.
Outside, thunder rumbled faintly, as if warning them - some storms weren't meant to pass that easily.
Aarav lay on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes, pretending to scroll through his phone.
He wasn't really watching anything; the sound of the rain outside was doing enough to fill the silence.
He had tossed that chocolate towards Aveer because he didn't need it. At least, that's what he told himself.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, he could still see a 14 year-old boy sitting on a school bench, munching that same brand with a grin that used to annoy him to hell.
Some memories just refused to fade , they stayed, lodged like thorns, even when you thought you'd bled them dry.
He turned his head slightly.
Aveer was sitting by the table, pretending to read something, but Aarav noticed how carefully he'd kept that chocolate aside instead of throwing it away.
He smirked faintly.
Still the same. Always pretending he doesn't care...but he does.
Maybe he hadn't forgotten either.
Aarav sighed and turned back toward the ceiling, letting the sound of the rain blur the edges of his thoughts.
For the first time since he'd seen him again, the anger didn't feel sharp...it felt tired.
Like something old and heavy he didn't know how to carry anymore.
He closed his eyes.
"huh," he murmured, almost to himself.
You still remember, don't you?
The rain answered in soft whispers against the window, washing the city clean while leaving both of them trapped in the mess of what still lingered.
It was evening. Aveer sat on his bed, half-dressed in a loose T-shirt, trying to finish his admission form on his phone. The coaching portal kept buffering.
"Come on," he muttered, tapping the screen. "Just load for once."
The Wi-Fi symbol blinked, then disappeared again. He restarted it. Nothing.
Two minutes later, the fan slowed down, lights flickered and everything went black.
"Great," Aveer groaned. "Perfect timing."
Aarav entered right then, dripping again from the rain, earphones around his neck and that same casual expression that made Aveer want to throw something.
"What did you do this time?" he said, tossing his bag on the chair. "Blew the fuse, trying to google yourself?"
"Funny," Aveer snapped. "Unlike you, I actually try to do something useful."
"Oh, right. Filing forms on a dead Wi-Fi. Ambitious enough."
Aveer ignored him, though the screen's reflection still lit his face. "The router's gone, duffer. Did your college teach you how to fix electricity too?"
Aarav flopped onto his bed, hands behind his head. "Nah. I usually just wait for miracles or maintenance guys. You can keep shouting till then."
"Then stop talking if you can't help," Aveer muttered.
Aarav laughed softly. "You're cute when you're frustrated, you know that?"
Aveer's head snapped up. "Say that again and I'll make sure you sleep outside tonight."
Aarav chuckled but went quiet.
The only sounds left were the rain and our uneven breathing.
It was getting hot without the fan. The air felt heavy, thick with humidity and everything unsaid.
Aveer finally gave up and went to sit near the window for some air.
Aarav followed a minute later, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He pulled out the T-shirt over his head and sat beside him, close enough for Aveer to feel the warmth of his skin even through the damp air.
The space between them felt smaller than it was supposed to.
Neither of them spoke. The silence wasn't awkward anymore - it was loud, full of something Aveer couldn't name.
Aarav was practically leaning into him, and for some reason, Aveer didn't push him away.
Outside, the rain softened to a whisper. Inside, his heartbeat didn't.
Then Aarav's phone buzzed. The screen lit up his face for a second, and Aveer caught the name before he turned it over.
Vishesh.
Aveer's throat tightened. Of course. Of all people.
He didn't say anything. Just stared at the dim street below and forced my hands to stay still. Aarav typed something quickly, smiled faintly, and locked the phone.
That smile did something sharp to his chest.
Aveer stood up, grabbed his charger, and headed for the door.
"I'm going out," I said flatly.
"Where?"
"Somewhere with working Wi-Fi."
Aarav didn't reply, and Aveer didn't look back.
He snapped the door and left.
Good. Let him leave. Maybe then I could breathe.
Still, he couldn't stop staring at that empty space he'd left behind.
Every time he saw him, it was like being dragged back to that day, the words, the silence, the look in his eyes before everything fell apart.
He kept telling himself he hated him – because he never listened, because he always had to prove he's right.
But maybe it wasn't hate. Maybe it was just guilt that never learned where to go.
Aarav sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Still the same stubborn idiot," he muttered.
But his chest felt heavier than it should.
The rain hit harder against the window, and he closed his eyes.
Whatever this thing between us was, it's far from over. Aarav sighed in silence.
Sometimes, the war between hate and longing doesn't need a battlefield - just two people trapped in the same silence, pretending they don't still feel the heat of what never really ended.
To be continued...