Zlatan is tense as you sit beside him and talk to the other students in the same college. You were trying to get the advantage of knowing people but Zlatan's stare is scaring everyone off. He's your best friend and he tends to not like anyone else around you.

"Why bother? We have each other," Zlatan tells you, his expression softening when the people leave and it's just you and him at the table of the pub.

He rolls his eyes and sits back in his seat when you glare at him. He acts like he did nothing wrong, crossing his arms over his chest. His sleeves are rolled up, his tattoos making him even more intimidating.