rematch | ishman

CH: 17

Yashasvi shifted on his feet uneasily. “Do you wanna get suspended?” he hissed, glancing around for cameras.

Ishan gasped. “Rishabh beat me to it!”

Only Rishabh could be faster than Ishan in these raids. They had been partners in crime many times before, but this time, Rishabh decided to be a betrayer.

“I think we should get out of here,” Yashasvi muttered, hearing footsteps in the distance.

“Can you believe Rishabh took my stock of Mogu Mogu?” Ishan turned to him, pouting.

Yashasvi grabbed his arm. “Seriously, you are so strange.”

Somehow, Ishan led them towards Rishabh’s room. “Listen here, you little tsundere, we are going to reclaim our rightful Mogu Mogu!”

“Rightful? You mean rightfully stolen?”

“I don't care about semantics,” Ishan muttered, as he attempted to quietly turn the doorknob.

“This is so creepy,” Yashasvi mumbled. What was he even doing here, being an accomplice to Meridian's biggest rival captain in some cheap, midnight tomfoolery? He was going to get caught and bring shame to his uni. These Summit brats could afford to waste their time like this, but Yashasvi couldn't.

As Ishan pushed the door open, Yashasvi gaped at the scene. “Dhruv?!”

“Oh, Yashu! Check this out, they’ve got the Passion Fruit flavor,” Dhruv beamed, showing off the two packs he had managed to get, most probably for Yashasvi.

A very pleased Rishabh, sitting next to him, smirked at Ishan. Ishan gasped as he watched Rishabh down the last pack of Mango flavor.

Yashasvi shook his head with a sigh. “Let's go, Dhruv. We have to leave early tomorrow.”

“What a party pooper,” Ishan scoffed. “Let the boy have his dose of happiness.”

Yashasvi ignored him, focusing on Dhruv. “You know, your disciplinary points would have been cut off if you pulled this at Meridian.”

Rishabh barked a laugh at that. “Ish, they have a disciplinary point system! What are you, kindergarteners?”

“Geez, what a bunch of stuck-ups,” Ishan chuckled, picking up a pack for himself.

Dhruv’s shoulders slumped a little as his grip tightened around the drink. “We’ll have to live in that hellhole from tomorrow anyway, can't you let me be for once?” he mumbled.

Yashasvi stared at him. “Hell- what? Dhruv, do you realize how that sounds? You want to talk like that about our home in front of them?”

“Kya galat bola usne?” Rishabh interjected, sensing Dhruv’s discomfort. “It's no secret the torture your so-called elite uni puts their recruits through.”

“Stop brainwashing him,” Yashasvi snapped. “That is the cost of winning. If you don't give, you can't take–”

“I did give my best!” Dhruv protested, his voice cracking slightly. “And we still lost.”

“That's because I played like shit,” Yashasvi muttered, clenching his fists.

“I’m already sad, Yashasvi. Don't make me sadder,” Dhruv replied.

Yashasvi winced at the use of his full name. “Okay, I’ll go.”

Ishan sighed and smacked Yashasvi on the back of his head. “Go and sit down.”

“I’m not taking orders from you.”

Ishan shot him a flat look. “Your body is dehydrated after all that working out. Have a fucking drink before I drag your sorry ass to the third years and leave you there for a wonderful night of ragging.”