Surya stepped into the dimly lit lecture hall, digging his thumb into his temple to ease the ache there. Rows of empty seats stretched upwards, with the soft hum of the AC breaking the silence.

He flipped on the lights, and two students in the back row jolted apart with a gasp. They immediately recognised Surya without him having to say a word, and they hastily gathered their bags to flee. It wasn’t that he had a terrifying reputation, but he was well-known and liked across campus, so people avoided getting on his bad side.

Only one student remained, slumped over a desk with his head buried in his arms. His hair was a riot of dark curls, like it’d been ruffled countless times. That messy hair and his untucked collar betrayed his hurried morning.

He didn’t stir at all while Surya checked the microphone and his presentation. He was so much like a corpse, in fact, that Surya couldn’t help but be vaguely impressed. To be so dead to the world, for so long? It wasn’t even offensive at this point, only odd.

The first-year students bustled noisily into the hall, and Surya lost sight of the young man sleeping there. He instead focused on lecturing, though it felt like he was yelling at a brick wall.

Most of his audience sat with their heads lowered, except very few were actually jotting down notes. Others were noticeably doing work for a different course or scrolling through their phones. Those who made eye contact with Surya were blank-eyed, like they were functioning on one brain cell, stress, and an ungodly amount of caffeine.

Surya felt a surge of sympathy for every professor ever. His job as a TA meant he was only expected to redirect serious queries to the professor, if he couldn’t answer them himself, but his perfectionist streak had him wanting to drag them all to graduation by hand.

It was immensely satisfying when two diligent students came to speak to him after his lecture while he switched off his presentation.

“Should we memorise the researchers’ names?” Hana asked.

“The concepts are more important.” He watched her tear her eyes away to make a note. “I’ll recap a lot of what I said tomorrow. If I still haven’t clarified what’s confusing you then I’ll stay behind and we can go through it.”

She broke into a wide, relieved smile. “Thanks, Surya-tov.”

He fixed his own smile in place, fighting the urge to check the time. “My pleasure.”

Hana’s friend turned ten shades redder, staring wide-eyed at him, and managed to stammer out, “Will you, uh, sorry, will the lecture end early tomorrow because of the Little Bears’ match?”

“I’ll try,” he said, without much feeling. He wasn’t the least bit interested in basketball.

“Oh, you’re also a fan!” Hana brightened, starting to ramble about the latest news. “They announced the line-up just this morning, and he’s here – Akira Malay, the boy who brought down the Hanseol team! A lot of us are going to cheer for him.”

The basketball team’s mascot was the Tasmanian devil, hence their nickname ‘the Little Bears’. It captured the irritating noises they made while playing, the grunting and snapping, but not their towering height. The Tasmanian devil was no larger than a house-cat, and it was all sharp teeth and strong jaws, consuming every bit of a meal, including the bones.

If Surya was being generous, he’d say the team shared the same muscular build, pungent odour, and ferocity when eating as the Tasmanian devil. They were aggressive, often nipping at their opponent’s heels, and hadn’t won a clean game in over two years. It was ridiculous how much the college adored them, spoiling them rotten when they weren’t very good.

“The girls on the team are saying that Malay is even cuter in person,” Hana continued, oblivious to Surya’s lack of attention.

Her friend agreed. “He and I went to the same middle-school and he’d say the most random things. He once muttered, ‘Friendship is only one awkward moment away’ and tried to approach another classmate’s table, but hit his hip on my desk and fell.” She cracked a grin at the memory. “Then he went to Hanseol, and…” Her grin faded.

“Hanseol?” Surya echoed.

“Ah, didn’t you also go there?” Hana clapped her hands together in surprised delight. “Then Malay was your junior!”

“I can’t seem to remember him.”

“Akira Malay? He’s pretty famous, you know.”

Surya gave an apologetic half-smile that lacked sincerity. “It just doesn’t ring a bell.”

He pointedly started to pack up his lecture notes, and they took the hint, waving goodbye at the door. He double-checked that the hall was empty by walking through the aisles, discovering a teal pebble on the floor where the sleeping boy had sat. He tossed it in the bin on his way out and locked the doors behind him.

He knew better than most that the locks did little to keep students out. He and Daichi had repeatedly broken into these empty rooms to pull pranks and nap between lectures. Daichi would crack one of his infuriating, lopsided grins whenever they got away with it. He always toed the line between charming and insufferable, as though he thrived on testing people’s patience.

Surya exited the office he shared with Professor Masami, taking out his phone to message Daichi. His phone immediately started ringing, and he held it up to his ear, feeling a surge of pleasure. He sorely wished that Daichi was here, right in front of him, so he could tangle his fingers through his hair and complain about responsibility.

“Hi,” Surya greeted with a smile.

A hoarse, drowsy voice enquired, “How’d it go?”

“Did you just wake up?” Surya’s accusation was made on a sigh. He was more disappointed about missing Daichi stretch awake than Daichi sleeping in so late. “It went well, but I think I preferred being a part of the masses. They’re a swarm of stress and hormones, like a pack of apathetic sponges. I’m drained.”

“You’re a sacrificial offering to the babies,” Daichi hummed.

“Speaking of babies, are you fetching the little rascal today?”

“No, Zeke requested my taxi services only for tomorrow. I’m a free man.” There was the rustling of sheets as Daichi turned over in bed. His voice still a low, gravelly murmur. “I’ll be in the art studio until late again, though, so dinner is on you. I want fried chicken.”

“What kind of housemate are you? We should be celebrating my first day as a TA with your money. Give me your wallet and I’ll think about ordering you a share of my fried chicken.”

Surya debated whether he could go home and have lunch with Daichi before his next lecture, but he knew he’d be cutting it too fine. He resigned himself to cafeteria lunch.

“Somehow there’s always meat in every dish,” he muttered. “And it’s always raw.”

“At least you’re getting some protein,” Daichi supplied in his lazy drawl, like he couldn’t be bothered to fully awaken.

“You said that the other day when I accidentally cut my finger slicing cucumbers for my salad.”

“One positive thought a day wouldn’t kill you.”

“I won’t risk it.”

Daichi’s laugh was laced with a teasing edge that made Surya’s toes curl. He drew as much strength as he could from it before hanging up and heading for the cafeteria. He found a seat at Leon’s table, a person from his year who was still finishing his post-grad.

Leon straightened at the sight of him, swallowing a mouthful of meat-pasta before enthusiastically greeting him. “You survived your first lecture! Am I the first person who gets to hear the details?”

“Ah, I already spoke to Daichi.”

“Oh man, then do you know what’s happening with his project? He won’t answer my texts.”

“He’d nearly finished, but his supervisor is trying to bribe him to enter another contest. He said to her, and I quote, ‘I’d rather lose you and your money than this disagreement’.”

“No wonder he’s left me on read then. I’ll have to pop by later to give him and those artists some pizza before they keel over. You should join me!” Leon paused for only a moment before inhaling to ramble on. “Marx finally has the departure date for his work. It’s the end of this term, and he’s so stressed about it that he won’t shut up. He keeps asking Harper to come with him, and she keeps laughing at him.”

Feeling tired, Surya propped his chin in his palm. “With Daichi threatening to go overseas to visit him instead of her, I bet he’ll stop bringing it up.”

“Hey, you know I’ve been friends with you longer,” Leon whined. “All you ever do is talk about Daichi. It’s like you’re an old married couple.”

“You abandoned me in favour of rooming with your girlfriend in second year. You’re lucky Daichi was assigned to our dorm or I would’ve committed murder.” Surya gave a smile that was just as chilling as it was beautiful. “Just tell me how PE went.”

Leon threw up his hands. “The first-years are a bunch of piranhas. Those who didn’t try to escape exercising were honestly out for blood. When I made them run only two laps to warm up, half the group disappeared into the bathrooms. I also found two boning behind the hut. It’s no wonder there was a request for three assistants. An army would be better.”

“They’re the worst,” Surya absently agreed. He’d pulled the same, if not more, stunts with Daichi.

Harper slid her tray onto the table, asking, “Who’s the worst?”

“The first-years,” Leon replied. “Are you helping with their orientation again?”

“Unfortunately,” she groaned. “They were shorthanded, so they pulled me from History to help run their curriculum. We just finished registering the late ones today, and I’m begging you, please be a mentor. The more mentors we have, the smaller our assigned groups. You’d be saving me a great many headaches.”

Surya stared across at her, aghast. “You want us to spend more time with them?”

“They’re not that bad.”

“They’re worse,” he argued.

Leon nodded solemnly. “They’re so horny. I don’t remember ever being as horny as them.”

“That’s because you were too busy chasing after Cass,” Harper reminded him. “Come on, you two, you’d be great mentors! And you’d be saving my sanity. Think of my sanity.”

“Oh, you know what that sounds like?” Surya asked.

She gave a tentative, hopeful smile. “What?”

“A you problem.”

She dramatically groaned into her hands. She was a year their senior and desperate to stop being at the bottom of Kaoru’s pecking order, but time and time again, she was roped into managing the first-years. A job straight from hell.

“You’d be my hero if you became a mentor. My guardian angel. I’ll sing your praises for years to come,” she pressed.

Leon started to say something, but a loud clattering across the cafeteria interrupted him. Surya curiously lifted his head, wondering what had caused the sudden ruckus, but his attention snagged on Harper’s dark look.

“Not again,” she growled, causing Surya to tense.

She’d never looked so angry before, and it made him nervous.

Just what was happening on the other side of the cafeteria?