Taren had long stopped drinking; he was completely sober as he watched Autumn vanishing into the hall of residence where she lived. It had been a long night and the chilly, slightly moist air told him that dawn was near.

Colton and Leander had hooked up with some girls, so Taren was alone, enjoying the quiet atmosphere. But unsteady footsteps behind him disturbed the peace of the not-yet awakened campus. Turning around, he was surprised to see Ryvan. 

He was such a strange person and oddly familiar. Taren couldn’t shake the feeling that they had met before at some point in the twenty-three years he had been alive. His first thought was that the kid had followed him from his gang in London but it had turned out he was just some wealthy eccentric from the neighbourhood.

“Your shirt,” the other student said clumsily, obviously having had too many drinks. 

Taren raised an eyebrow. The item in Ryvan’s hand was a tea towel, not a shirt. “Go home, you’re fu- I mean drunk,” he corrected himself quickly, wondering why he even remembered that Ryvan didn't like strong language, having noticed him flinch every time when a curse word escaped his lips. “Seriously, go back to your friends.”

At that moment, the two idiots he had seen with him before staggered down the path from the student union. Both were singing with half-empty bottles in their hands. Evidently, they were in no condition to take care of anyone. 

Taren sighed while he fished for his phone to call a taxi for the drunk student. “I’m not your dam- I’m not your babysitter.” Seriously, Ryvan acted all polite and proper but in reality, rudely relied on strangers to take care of him. But for reasons unknown, Taren felt that he couldn't abandon him. Perhaps it was because of the odd familiarity that he couldn't quite make sense of. 

“I’m fiiine.” But his unstable stance told Taren otherwise. 

“Sure, totally fine…” Suddenly Taren’s finger, already on the call button, paused. If Ryvan’s parents would have made a drama out of a small bloodstain, how would they react when their son turned up drunk? Wealthy families were not his expertise, but Taren could imagine that it would not end well. 

“You think just because I helped you once, I'll help you again, do you?” He moved one of Ryvan’s arms over his shoulder to stabilise the other student. Then, he carefully manoeuvred him down the path towards his place. Even though Ryvan was slightly taller than him, he didn't seem to weigh much and fully complied with Taren's actions. Taren could only shake his head, it was a miracle how someone as trusting as him had survived thus far, especially with the rich-kid aura he emitted.

“Do you like your girlfriend?”

The question came out of nowhere. In his surprise, Taren almost dropped Ryvan. Should he even bother replying to that? Taren looked at the other student who was staring back at him expectantly. “Of course, what guy doesn’t like fucking?” 

Was Ryvan serious with his question or was the alcohol to blame for his weird words? The black-haired student concluded that it must be the latter for the sake of his sanity.

However, as they reached the hall of residence, the inappropriate questions continued, confirming his suspicion that Ryvan was far from being the well-mannered guy he pretended to be. “What about other girls?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Taren led Ryvan into his room so he could sit down on the bed. Without daylight, his room was dark, no brighter than the corridor that other students—not him—would describe as ghostly at night. “Are you jealous? I’ll sort you out with some girls later, give me your number.” 

While Taren reached for the other student's phone, Ryvan laid down, not bothering to take his shoes or jacket off. “I just didn’t like seeing you with Autumn.” 

It was nothing more than a faint whisper but the sincerity in his voice didn’t fail to reach Taren’s ears. He didn’t know what to make of it and faintly remembered someone saying something similar with the same intense sincerity a long time ago.

However, as he finished keying in the number displayed on Ryvan's phone, the feeling of familiarity was gone and the drunk student fast asleep.

Taren sighed. He certainly hadn’t planned to treat Ryvan like royalty and sacrifice his bed to him. But as it was nearly 6 AM, the Crow was too tired to care. Some space at the edge of the bed would suffice for the few hours until morning. 

Yet as soon as he had made himself comfortable, Taren regretted his choice. In the first light of dawn, Ryvan’s skin looked pale and flawless, like a puppet made of porcelain. His dark-brown eyes, now closed, were hidden behind black eyelashes almost as if he wore mascara. 

Fascinated, the Crow moved closer. His heartbeat accelerated when Ryvan moved, his hand now touching Taren’s arms. A hand that was innocent and pure, probably never having hurt anyone or done anything unjust. 

He felt Ryvan’s warm and rhythmic breath on his neck, smelling of booze and vanilla. Perhaps confusing the guy next to him with his girlfriend, Taren’s body reacted with a throbbing between his legs.

Evidently, sleeping in the same bed was not a good idea. Failing to understand his own body, Taren tried to get up. It would be better to wake up one of his flatmates and claim their bed for the remainder of the night. 

But leaving wasn’t as easy as he thought. Ryvan’s hand tightened around his arm as if he was its prisoner. Taren surrendered, he didn’t wholly dislike the feeling and it would only be for a short time. Or so he thought.