US IN THE U.S

3.THE ACCUSE

Yodha Viswanath:

The next morning, I awaken with a sense of disquiet, the remnants of last night’s confrontation with Agastya still weighing heavily on my mind.

The intensity of that moment lingers, a palpable reminder of the tension that brewed when we stood toe to toe. I had thought—hoped, even—that something between us would shift, that we might finally address the invisible line we had crossed.

Yet, to my surprise, as the day unfolds, everything remains disturbingly unchanged.

Sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, I find myself staring at the door, waiting for Agastya to emerge.

A part of me wonders if he’ll mention last night, perhaps acknowledge the unspoken tension that thickened the air between us. But when he finally appears, his expression is as cold and indifferent as always.

There’s no flicker of recognition, no acknowledgment of the confrontation. It’s as though nothing has altered.

"Morning," he mutters, his voice devoid of warmth, as he reaches for a glass of water. His gaze doesn’t even meet mine, his attention fixated on his phone, his face betraying no emotion.

I watch him, waiting, hoping for something more, but silence stretches like a chasm between us, punctuated only by the soft clink of his glass against the counter.

Frustration simmers inside me, the silence more infuriating than any argument.

"Morning," I finally reply, my tone carefully neutral, though inside, I’m seething. Maybe this is his way of maintaining those invisible boundaries, of pretending nothing significant transpired.

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play it, I’ll match his energy.

The day drags on in awkward silence, neither of us speaking unless absolutely necessary. Every time I glance at him, he seems perfectly unbothered, as if last night meant nothing. It’s maddening—how can he be so unaffected?

By mid-afternoon, my patience wears thin. Perhaps this is just who he is, and I misread everything. Yet, the nagging feeling that there’s more beneath the surface refuses to leave me. Still, I have bigger issues to deal with—specifically, Austin.

After the way things unfolded last night, I know it’s time to confront him. I’ve delayed the inevitable long enough, and last night was the breaking point. I can’t let him keep pushing boundaries without consequence.

Later that day, I finally pull Austin aside. He’s lounging outside the library, scrolling through his phone. When he spots me, he flashes that familiar, easy smile—the one that used to make me feel like we were close friends, but now fills me with unease.

“Hey, Yodha,” he greets, patting the seat beside him. “Got time? Come sit.”

I hesitate but sit down, maintaining a deliberate distance. “We need to talk,” I say, keeping my voice steady.

Austin’s smile falters, sensing the shift. “Sure, what’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, I choose my words carefully. “Lately, I’ve been feeling uncomfortable with how close you’ve been getting.”

His brow furrows, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you’ve been getting too close,” I clarify, my heart pounding. “It’s making me uneasy. Like last night—you were sitting way too close on my bed, and that’s not okay.”

Austin’s face pales slightly before he quickly recovers. “Whoa, Yodha, you never said anything.”

“I know. I didn’t realize it bothered me until now. But there’s a line, Austin, and you’ve been crossing it.”