Somewhere We Belong (BL)

Chapter 1: Welcome to IIM City

Getting into IIM Ahmedabad is a dream for most people.

Parents cry tears of joy, throw lavish parties, and brag to every unfortunate soul who accidentally steps foot in their house. The neighbor who came over to borrow sugar? Now trapped for hours, hearing the full tale of their child’s academic brilliance. The distant aunt who called to ask about health issues? Bombarded with entrance exam statistics and lecture schedules.

My parents? They didn’t even blink.

No emotional speeches. No proud pats on the back. Not even the slightest flicker of excitement. Just a casual, “Okay,” as if I’d told them I was stepping out to buy groceries instead of joining India’s most prestigious business school.

I should’ve been used to it by then.

But it still stung.

Back then, I told myself that this was exactly what I wanted — to cut ties, leave the past behind, and start fresh. But now, dragging my suitcase across the sprawling campus under the sweltering Ahmedabad sun, I wonder if maybe I made a mistake.

Maybe I should’ve thought it through a little more.

But there’s no turning back now.

The campus is enormous, like a self-contained city. Towering red-brick buildings stretch toward the sky, their modern design somehow blending perfectly with sprawling green lawns and winding pathways. The library is a fortress of knowledge, and students bustle in and out with purpose, clutching books, laptops, and their hopes of someday running billion-dollar companies.

The air hums with ambition.

This is where my new life begins.

Where late-night case studies and overpriced coffee become survival essentials. Where group projects test friendships, and networking turns into an extreme sport.

And maybe — just maybe — where I can finally outrun my past.

I pull out my phone, glancing at the dorm assignment email one more time. Block C, Room 204.

I finally spot the building and climb the stairs, my heart pounding a little harder than it should. I tell myself it’s just exhaustion, that I’m not nervous about meeting my roommate or starting over. That this is just another step forward, nothing more.

The receptionist hands me my key with a strange smile.

“You’ll be sharing with Aarav,” she says, her voice dripping with something I can’t quite place. “If you ever want to swap rooms, I’m open to trading my apartment for your dorm.”

I laugh awkwardly, assuming she’s joking.

She’s not.

I lug my suitcase to the door of Room 204, shove the key into the lock, and push it open.

The dorm is... small.

Two single beds are crammed against opposite walls, separated by a narrow aisle. A single desk sits against the far wall, already cluttered with books, notebooks, and an empty coffee mug. The closet is barely big enough for one person’s clothes, let alone two people sharing a space.

I toss my bag onto the bed closest to the window and start unpacking, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. The whole room smells faintly of citrus and something sharper, like cologne.

I’m halfway through stacking my textbooks when a knock on the door makes me jump.

I wipe my palms on my jeans, trying to squash the anxiety knotting in my stomach, and pull the door open.

And that’s the moment everything shifts.

Standing in the doorway is a guy who looks like he stepped straight out of a fashion ad.

Tall, lean, and effortlessly confident, he leans against the doorframe like he owns the place. His shirt — black, buttoned just enough to show a sliver of collarbone — clings to him in a way that feels almost intentional. His jeans are perfectly fitted, hugging his legs like a second skin.

But it’s his face that makes my brain short-circuit.

Sharp jawline. High cheekbones. A slightly crooked smile that screams trouble.

And his eyes — striking, electric blue, so vivid they feel unnatural.

I swear, for a split second, even a straight guy like me could reconsider everything.

He tilts his head, his smile widening. “You must be Rohan.”

I swallow hard, throat suddenly dry. “Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

He steps inside without waiting for an invitation, dropping his duffel bag onto the other bed with a careless thud.

“I’m Aarav,” he says, turning to face me fully. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

I nod, feeling uncomfortably aware of how stiff I probably look. Aarav, on the other hand, flops onto his bed like he’s been living here for years. He stretches out, arms behind his head, and watches me with an amused glint in his eyes — like he can feel how tense I am.

“So,” he drawls, “why IIM?”

The question punches me harder than it should.

I scramble for an answer — something light, something harmless. But all I can think about is the truth, the mess I left behind, and how this place is supposed to be my escape.

Instead, I lie.

“Just wanted a good B-school,” I mutter, shoving clothes into the tiny closet.

Aarav hums like he doesn’t believe me, but doesn’t push.

“Well, you picked the right place. If you survive the professors, the projects, and the three-hour lectures on economic models, you might even make it out sane.”

I snort despite myself. “That bad?”

“Worse.” Aarav’s grin is all teeth. “But don’t worry, roomie. I’ll make sure you don’t die.”

He winks, and for some reason, my chest tightens.

I turn back to my suitcase, pretending to focus on organizing my stuff, but my mind is a hurricane.

Because Aarav is dangerous.

Not in the obvious, bad-boy way.

But because I can already tell he’s the kind of person who digs under your skin. The kind of person you can’t help but get close to.

And I can’t afford close.

I can’t afford anything that might make my past resurface.

But as I steal another glance at Aarav, who’s now scrolling through his phone like he hasn’t completely shattered my composure, I get the sinking feeling that avoiding him might not be an option.

I tell myself it’s just nerves.

I tell myself this is just the beginning of a new chapter.

But I have no idea how much this guy is about to change everything.