The one day he stayed

The studio was chaos in motion.

Cardboard dust, pins on the floor, scale models half-collapsing, and the smell of Fevicol in the air. Vanya stood by the model table, brows furrowed, holding a piece of thermocol like it was a sword.

“I swear to God, if someone touches this again—” she threatened the entire group.

“Relax, it’s not the Taj Mahal,” Vedant quipped from across the table.

Yuvi, who was cutting balsa wood nearby, chuckled under his breath.

Vanya turned to glare. “Did you just laugh?”

Yuvi didn’t look up. “Who, me? I’m the most innocent one here.”

“You broke my staircase yesterday!”

“I enhanced your circulation experience,” he said, now smirking.

Vanya grabbed a sketch roll tube and pointed it at him. “You want war?”

Yuvi dropped his cutter and raised both hands, taking slow exaggerated steps toward her. “Oh no. She's going rogue again.”

Before she could react, he lunged—grabbed the cardboard from her hand, and ran across the studio with it.

“YUVI!”

Everyone turned to look as she chased him down the corridor outside, laughter echoing. She finally caught up to him near the lockers, grabbing the back of his hoodie.

“Give. It. Back!”

He turned suddenly, backing her into the wall. The cardboard fell somewhere between them, forgotten.

Her chest heaved. His palm rested right beside her head.

“You’re always so dramatic,” he whispered, grinning.

“You like it,” she snapped back.

His eyes flickered down—briefly—then back to her face. “More than I should.”

Their breath caught between the inches of distance. Then—

“GUYS! Sir’s coming!”

They jolted apart. Vanya grabbed the cardboard and darted in. Yuvi followed a second later, adjusting his hoodie, grinning like he’d won something.

Back inside, she dropped the piece on the table and muttered to Anitta, “I hate him.”

Anitta only laughed. “Sure. That’s exactly what your face is saying.”

And across the table, Yuvi caught her eye, winked once—and turned back to his model like nothing ever happened.

Studio – Afternoon Chaos, Mild Drooling

Vanya leaned back on her stool, her chin resting in her palm as her eyes trailed the new AD faculty walking across the studio. Tall, lean, slight stubble, and a cool black kurta that definitely didn't help.

Yuvi looked up from his side, frowning. “You’ve been staring at him for five minutes.”

“He’s so hot,” Vanya sighed dreamily. “Like—he could yell at me for not doing my sheets and I’d still be smiling.”

Yuvi dropped his pencil.

“He’s not that hot,” he muttered, not looking at her.

Vanya smirked, propping her elbows on the table, eyes sparkling. “Are you… jealous?”