Yeh Dil ♥️ - Love Like This

1

Rudra lounged in the plush armchair of the college library, bored out of his skull. His designer sunglasses did little to hide the yawn that stretched across his face. Texting his usual Friday night fling had gotten him nowhere - she was "busy."  Just then, a flurry of movement caught his eye. A slender boy with dark brown hair, his nose buried in a hefty textbook, stumbled past Rudra, nearly tripping over his own untied shoelaces.

Rudra, never one to miss a chance for amusement, smirked.  "Whoa there, Einstein," he drawled, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Looks like those formulas are about to trip you up."

The boy looked up, startled.  He had kind brown eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses, and a flush crept up his cheeks.  "I, uh, I apologize," he stammered, fumbling to tie his shoelace.

Rudra's smirk faltered.  There was something about this boy, something genuine and unaffected by the usual college glitterati.  "New around here?" he asked, a hint of curiosity replacing his boredom.

"First semester," the boy said, tucking the textbook under his arm.  "Rohit.  And you are...?"

"Rudra," he replied, extending a hand.  Rohit's handshake was firm but calloused, a stark contrast to the smooth, manicured hands Rudra was used to.  "So, Rohit, what brings you to this esteemed library on a Friday night?"

Rohit chuckled, a nervous sound.  "Esteemed? It's just a library, Mr. Rudra.  I'm here to study. Scholarship kid, you see, can't afford late-night cafes."

Rudra felt a flicker of something unfamiliar.  Was it shame? Embarrassment?  Certainly not something he'd experienced before.  He cleared his throat.  "Scholarship, huh? Must be a genius then." 

Rohit's smile widened.  "Just good with books," he said modestly.  There was a comfortable silence between them, something Rudra had never experienced with his preening, designer-clad dates.  He found himself wanting to know more about this Rohit, this boy who valued knowledge over conspicuous consumption. 

"So, Rohit," he started again, a hesitant note in his voice, "what kind of books are you into?" 

Rohit's eyes lit up.  "Anything by Neil Gaiman," he enthused, launching into a passionate discussion about graphic novels.  As the hours slipped past, Rudra found himself captivated.  Conversations with his usual crowd had usually revolved around parties, gossip, and the latest luxury car.  This was...different. Refreshing.  He felt a strange lightness in his chest, a feeling he couldn't quite define.

The library began to close, and Rudra reluctantly rose.  "Well, Rohit," he said, a hint of regret in his voice.  "See you around?"

Rohit smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes.  "Sure, Rudra.  Maybe you can borrow some actual literature sometime."

Rudra chuckled, a real laugh that surprised even himself.  "Maybe I will."  As Rohit walked away, Rudra felt a pang of longing he couldn't explain.  He wasn't used to this.  He wasn't used to wanting more. But for the first time, Rudra was intrigued, not by a person's wealth or name, but by their mind and spirit.  And that, he realized with a jolt, was a whole new kind of experience.
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One day, the tension in the air crackled louder than the usual pre-ragging excitement. Rudra, perched on a table, surveyed the freshmen like a predator sizing up prey. His usual swagger seemed muted, a shadow lingering in his eyes. His friends, sensing his unusual mood, exchanged nervous glances.

"Alright, newbies," Rudra began, his voice flat. "Tonight's 'entertainment' is a classic: Truth or Dare."

A collective groan rose from the freshmen.  Rudra smirked, a hint of his usual amusement flickering back.  "Don't worry, it won't be too bad...unless," he added, his gaze flicking to Rohit, who stood stiffly in the back corner, "you choose dare."

Rohit felt a prickle of apprehension crawl up his spine.  Rudra's attention, once a novelty, now felt suffocating. Ever since their encounter in the library, Rudra had taken a strange interest in him. He'd single him out during ragging, the "dares" increasingly personal and humiliating. It was clear Rudra's friends noticed, their usual bravado replaced by a wary silence.

The "game" started harmlessly enough.  A freshman spilled his soda, another blurted out his crush's name. Then came Rohit's turn.  He braced himself, hoping for a mundane dare.

"Rohit," Rudra drawled, his eyes glinting, "truth or dare?"

The air hung heavy.  Rohit looked around, his gaze landing on Rudra's friends, their faces a mix of curiosity and unease.  He knew a refusal would only escalate things.  Taking a deep breath, he met Rudra's gaze.

"Truth," he said, his voice steady.

A slow smile spread across Rudra's face.  "Interesting choice," he said, leaning forward.  "Then tell us,  who's your biggest crush in this entire college?"

A hush fell over the room.  Rohit's cheeks burned.  He couldn't lie, not in front of everyone.  But confessing the truth, especially to Rudra, felt terrifying.   His heart pounded in his chest as he looked at Rudra, a silent battle raging within him.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. Rohit felt all eyes on him, a mixture of fear and morbid curiosity.

He could almost hear his own heartbeat echoing in his ears. Glancing at Rudra, he saw a smirk playing on his lips, a challenge gleaming in his eyes. Rudra wasn't just interested in a name; he wanted a reaction, a spectacle.

But something had shifted within Rohit. The fear was still there, but a flicker of defiance sparked alongside it. He wouldn't be a pawn in Rudra's game.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back and met Rudra's gaze head-on.

"Actually," he said, his voice surprisingly firm, "I don't have a crush on anyone in this college."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. Rudra's smirk faltered for a second, replaced by a flicker of surprise. His friends exchanged confused glances. 

"Oh?" Rudra drawled, trying to regain his composure. "Then who? Spill it."

"That's the truth," Rohit continued, his voice gaining strength.  "I don't believe in crushes based on popularity or appearances. I'm looking for something more...genuine."

The tension in the room shifted.  A few freshmen exchanged hesitant smiles.  There was a quiet murmur of agreement, a subtle rebellion against Rudra's usual dominance.

Rudra's face darkened.  He wasn't used to being defied, especially not in such a public way.  He opened his mouth to retort, but Rohit cut him off.

"Look," he said, his voice calm but firm, "I'm not here to play your games.  If you have nothing else for me, I'd like to leave."

The room held its breath.  No one had ever spoken to Rudra like that.  For a moment, it seemed like the air itself crackled with anticipation. Then, to everyone's surprise, Rudra backed down.

"Fine," he said with a scoff, his voice laced with a hint of irritation. "Go on then. But this isn't over, Sharma."

Rohit met his gaze for another beat, then turned and walked away.  As he left the room, he could feel the weight of a hundred eyes on him, but he held his head high.  For the first time, he wasn't afraid.  He had stood up for himself, and in doing so, he had challenged the power dynamic in the room. 

Later that night, lying awake in his dorm room, Rohit couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was a turning point. 

He didn't know what the future held, but he knew he wouldn't back down anymore. 

He had a voice, and he intended to use it.

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