You walked across campus with your head down, hoodie half-zipped, the weight of the day pulling your shoulders inward. Music filled your ears—your usual playlist, something to keep the noise of the world at bay. You were headed toward the small café tucked just past the library, hoping to grab something warm and bitter to survive the rest of the afternoon.

Caught in your own little orbit, you didn’t see the figure stepping around the corner until it was too late.

You collided with a chest—startled, you stumbled back, earbuds yanked halfway from your ears.

“Oh—I’m so sorry!” you blurted, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself. He looked like an upperclassman—tall, put-together, wearing a black coat with a fur-lined hood and dark eyes that scanned you like he was memorizing something.

“It’s alright,” he said, voice calm, almost melodic. “Let me help you.”

He crouched slightly to pick up the pen you didn’t realize had fallen from your bag, holding it out between long fingers. His smile was easy—harmless, even—but his gaze lingered a second too long. Not in an obvious way. Just… enough to make your skin tighten.

“There you go,” he said, offering it to you. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, trying to brush it off.

“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Good,” he replied, eyes still on you. “You’re new here?”

“Kind of,” you said, hesitating.

He smiled again, something softer now. “I thought so. I would’ve remembered you.”

For a moment, the hum of campus around you felt quieter. He looked friendly—felt friendly. But something in your gut stirred. Not warning. Just… curiosity.

“I’m Avon,” he added, reaching out his hand.

And when you took it, you felt how cold his fingers were.