Same Tree, Same Time

Shiva didn’t expect to see him again.

He thought the boy was just passing through. Maybe a visitor. Maybe one of those overconfident first-years who disappear after the first month. He didn’t ask anyone about him. Didn’t try to find out his name. Just assumed it was a one-time thing — like a leaf blown past him by chance.

But the next day, around the same time, the guy showed up again.

Same black headphones. New snack — popcorn this time. Still dressed like he hadn’t checked a mirror in two days. Still walked like rules weren’t something he thought about. Like he existed on his own frequency.

He walked straight to the neem tree, looked at Shiva sitting there, and without asking, sat down again. Same spot. Same way. Like it was the most natural thing in the world — like they had done this a hundred times before.

Shiva glanced sideways at him.

“Calm down,” the boy said, not even looking up. “It’s a big tree.”

Shiva rolled his eyes and turned a page in his book — a page he hadn’t actually read. He didn’t even know what chapter he was pretending to be on anymore.

They sat in silence. Again. But not the kind that feels empty — more like the kind that presses gently on your shoulders and makes you aware of every breath.

Shiva could feel the other boy shifting beside him — shaking one leg, cracking his knuckles, humming a little. He wasn’t doing anything dramatic. Just existing loudly.

After a few minutes, the guy said, “You seriously never talk?”

Shiva sighed. “You always talk this much?”

“Only when I get ignored this hard,” the boy replied, smiling like he’d just scored a point. His grin was too easy, like he didn’t mind making a fool of himself.

Shiva didn’t answer. But something about the way he said it made Shiva’s mouth twitch — not quite a smile, but not the usual flat expression either.

The boy threw a popcorn in his mouth, chewed slowly, then said, “I’m Rohan, by the way.”

Shiva didn’t reply right away. He looked down at the open book in his lap, the same page he’d been pretending to study for twenty minutes. The words didn’t make any sense.

“Shiva.”

“Nice,” Rohan said. “Strong name. God-level.”

Shiva didn’t respond.

“I mean, mine’s biblical or whatever,” Rohan added casually. “But yours? Yours could shake a mountain.”

There was a pause. A breeze shifted a few dry leaves near their feet.

Rohan leaned back, stretched out his legs like he had no intention of leaving anytime soon. He offered Shiva some popcorn again. Shiva shook his head.

“You could’ve just said yes yesterday,” Rohan muttered under his breath.

Shiva turned toward him. “What?”

“The chips. You looked like you wanted one.”

Shiva blinked, caught off guard.

“I didn’t,” he said flatly, but it came out weaker than he meant.

Rohan didn’t push. Just shrugged.

“Okay.”

They didn’t speak again after that.

But when Rohan got up and walked away, Shiva didn’t open his book this time.

He just sat there, thinking about popcorn, chipped nails, and how somehow, without asking, someone had managed to sit beside him two days in a row — and leave a louder silence behind than before.

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