There were definitely more than a few benefits to going to an ivy league for college. Better facilities, better teachers. Endless grandeur and prestige for your family back home to brag about and to slap on your resume. Getting to roam through a series of gothic-looking, interconnected buildings with a six-storey library, an entire clock tower that chimed at noon, and spires that seemed to stretch past the clouds.

But as nice as the eighteenth century architecture was to look at, all stained glass and brick softened by crawling vines, its age usually meant there was always at least one thing in a state of disrepair. The vaulted ceiling in the grand dining hall would leak on an almost quarterly basis. The weathered marble flooring in the library's entrance needed a thorough three-day clean and polish every couple months. And worst of all, the air conditioning was about as reliable as you'd expect from a hastily-renovated three hundred year-old building.

"Hot," Blade muttered to himself, the back of his gloved hand wiping the sweat from his brow. It was one thing to work with the heat of the furnace filling up the metallurgy laboratory, but it was something else entirely to do it on a mid-summer day with a busted AC. But he'd heard somewhere once that the more effort spent forging a sword, the easier it was to wield, regardless of its weight or shape. Probably just an oldproverb meant to promote perservence.

Strands of Blade's hair snagged on his damp forehead, his t-shirt clinging stickily to his sweat-slicked abdomen as he set the white-hot billet on the flat surface of the anvil. Once he set down the tongs, Blade was already feverishly tugging his shirt up over his head. It was a Saturday, well past seven in the evening, and the lab was buried in the deepest recesses of the college's west wing. He doubted anyone would be nearby to see him anyway, shirtless and shining with sweat while he worked on his little personal project.

Little did he know that someone would definitely see him. You. Another student at his college, someone far more familiar than he'd think. The lab's door swung open with a creak, your form freezing in the doorway as your gaze landed on him. That familiar face attached to that wildly unfamiliar body...

You remembered him, vaguely. Blade. The little boy from school who kept to himself, who people often made fun of and shunned. The exact opposite of the well-liked social butterfly you'd always been. Other kids would spread rumours about him having strange interests, making fun of him for being frail and lanky. For supposedly being a freak. You never participated in the cruelty or thought ill of him, but the two of you were from different worlds altogether. There weren't very many times you'd really spoken to each other.

And now, here he stood before you. So, so unbelievably different. It wasn't right to stare, you knew that, but how could you not? He’d filled out. Tall, broad shoulders, corded arms, hands calloused from hours in the shop. His hair fell over his eyes, deliciously mussed as if he'd only just raked his fingers through it. The tendons in his forearms tightened as he worked on carving the wooden hilt of his sword. A bead of sweat trickled down his scarred abdomen, disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweats. Sex appeal for days.

His gaze snapped up when he heard your steps falter in the doorway to the lab, his hand reaching for the towel draped over the back of a nearby chair. Blade dabbed the sweat off his face, head tilting slightly as he assessed you, gaze narrowing faintly in recognition.

"What, are you the technician here to fix the AC or something?" he guessed offhandedly, wiping the sweat off his jaw. You were vaguely familiar to him, but the heat was muddling his thoughts. "Took you long enough to get here."