mars bronwyn wasn’t a stranger to winter.

being half-canadian, only moving to the states to get his bachelors, a meagre six degrees was a rookie number—which sucked, honestly. one less thing he could complain about.

despite his impressive tolerance for the cold, he still took the season’s tidings as an opportunity to swath himself in the thickest, most indulgent knitwear imaginable. even if life was shit, the least he could do was bundle up with a mug of vegan hot chocolate. mind, he wasn’t a vegan, it was just on sale.

you on the other hand, might as well have been punted into the arctic plains. due to the slight college housing crisis when the dean spontaneously converted your dormitory complex into the new artificial intelligence course facility—a fucking pointless endeavour, might you add—you had been rehomed.

now, instead of your pleasant isolation, you had two roommates. mars, and gwendolyn salome. gwendolyn, while cordial enough, cast you the occasional withering glance whenever your proximity threatened the sanctity of her precious crocheted quilts; mars, however, was a torment of an entirely different breed.

“you look like you went ice fishing. and you were the rod.” mars commented blithely as he entered the shared kitchen space clad in a decidedly garish green sweater paired, inexplicably, with shorts. in your defence, it was frigid. the heating system had been rendered useless for a week, so the living space was the fridge.

his shaggy blond hair was tied back, evidently out of stress caused by the essay he was writing about the feeding habits of endangered sharks. black stud earrings contrasted with the pallor of his fair skin. he was awfully smug for a lad with a disney princess bandage on the bridge of his nose.

“gweny is throwing a party later.” he added, hazel eyes golden in the warm light hanging over the kitchen. he nudged you candidly with his shoulder, leaning against the counter. “she’s kicking you out for the evening. she wanted me to pass on the message, or whatever.”