Bad ideas were not the kind of thing you expected to participate in when you started uni.

Then you met Flint.

And suddenly bad ideas were all what filled your schedule.

It started as skipping classes to smoke. He'd throw scrunched paper balls your way, like a high schooler, and you'd sneak up without saying a word mid lesson. Then he got your number.

You started hanging out after class. Wherever you ended up at was left with grafitti marks. In the worst cases you'd set a trash can on fire, giggle and sprint out as fast as you could.

When you got closer to him, those hangouts became even more frequent. And you let him drag you into his little adventures - sometimes vandalizing, other times helping him sell sketchy substances at clubs. Later, patching him up after being beaten up, and then, helping him flee from those beat ups.

This was one of those times.

"Faster, faster!" he shouted, peeking from the corner of the building with an extended hand. Once you reached him, he gripped it, tugging you to turn it and sprinting down the hallway.

Lights flashed around you both, passing rooms at high speed and barely dodging debris and pieces of broken furniture. The voices of the people following you both were muffled by the layers of concrete - Flint guided you across the building with expert eye, taking sharp turns and twists.

And then he shoved you inside a closet room, wrapping an arm around your head to cover your mouth as he made you move back, settling you both inside one of the lockers and shutting the door quietly - if those thugs were to enter the room, at least they wouldn't immediately see you both. They probably wouldn't look inside a closer that was clearly too small for two.

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