I stopped outside the gates of St. Xavier’s, my black SUV catching the eyes of almost everyone around. The engine hummed beneath me as I turned it off. As I stepped out of my car, I caught the familiar buzz which was nothing but a mix of whispers, hushed giggles and stolen glances.

Girls were leaning on their friends, exchanging comments they probably thought I couldn’t hear, but their voices reached perfectly to me. "Oh my god, that's Yuvaan," one of them whispered, her voice all giddy. Another one added, "He’s looking even hotter today." They were so loud that my ears hurt from their shrill, high-pitched tone. But it's been years, and I've become used to all this.

I ran a hand through my hair and ignored the stares. None of it mattered. My focus was somewhere else today. I had plans that didn’t involve indulging in their fantasies or appearing in their dreams.

As I walked past them, a familiar face jogged towards me with a basketball in his hand. Agastya. My best friend since school, the one who always had my back. We've been through enough together to have a bond stronger than real brothers.

“Yuvaan!” he called out, tossing the ball towards me.

I caught it easily. “Are you ready to lose?” I asked with a faint smirk, spinning the ball on my index finger.

Agastya chuckled. “You wish.”

We headed straight to the court, cutting through the crowd without a second glance. I could still feel someone's eyes on me, but the only thing that mattered now was the game. The court was already busy, but we found our spot and started shooting. The thud of the ball, the squeak of sneakers against the ground—it was all I needed to zone out. It was my therapy. My kind of therapy.

After a few minutes of playing, I was halfway through a shot when I noticed a girl hovering by the edge of the court. She looked nervous, standing there with her phone in hand, clearly waiting to step forward, as it seemed so. I ignored her, but before I could get back into the rhythm of the game, she spoke up.

“Yuvaan?” her voice was shaky but loud enough to stop us mid-game.

I turned towards her, raising an eyebrow. Agastya grinned, clearly enjoying the situation. Fucker knew I was about to get proposed for the tenth time this week. Eleventh, maybe. Who cared?

“I—I just wanted to say,” she stammered, looking down at her phone, then back at me, “I really like you. I know it's unexpected but will you go out with me?”

I could feel Agastya nudging me with his elbow, trying to hold back his laughter. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but it still caught me off guard every time. It all felt so weird. I didn't like humiliating anyone, but what could I do when they want to get humiliated by choice?

I looked at her with a blank expression. “No, I won't. Get lost.” I said, trying to maintain my calm as much as possible.

Her face flushed, and I could see the disappointment written all over her. She was about to cry. She gave a small nod before turning away quickly, and running away. I let out a sigh, shaking my head.

“Damn, man!” Agastya laughed, hitting me on the back. “You could’ve let her down a little softer.”

“I wasn’t rude, and a clear rejection is better than keeping someone hanging.” I shrugged, knowing damn well that he'd be going to give that girl his shoulder to cry on later.

We finished the game, and headed towards the canteen with the rest of the guys. As we walked in, the smell of food and coffee filled the air. The tables were packed with students, all deep in conversation, but we found our usual corner and settled down.

“Guess what day it is tomorrow?,” Agastya said, leaning back in his chair with a grin.

I glanced at him. “The first day of classes for first year students?”

“Yeah,” he replied, looking around as if the thought itself gave him some kind of thrill. “BBA freshers. You know what that means.”

I knew exactly what he was getting at. Freshers' Day meant a new batch of clueless students wandering into college life with bright eyes and big dreams, unaware of what awaited them.

“We’re not going to bully them, are we?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Come on, Yuvaan,” one of the other guys at the table chirped up. “It’s a tradition. We got to show them what college life actually feels like. Besides, it’s harmless. We'll make them dance, sing or workout, nothing else.”

I leaned back in my chair, weighing the idea. I wasn’t ready to be a part of this bullying shit, but a part of me understood the excitement. The whole senior-fresher dynamic was a part of the college experience after all.

"Alright,” I said, after a moment of thinking. “But nothing too serious.”

Agastya laughed, raising his cup of coffee as if he had just won some unspoken bet. “We’ll keep it light, captain.”

Tomorrow would be interesting, no doubt. But as I stared out of the canteen window, watching the campus buzz with life, a part of me wondered if this year would turn out to be more than just academics and games. What could even happen in my fucked up life anyways? Not like a rainbow would appear in my dull, dark life.