The forest stretched endless, black pines rising like jagged spires under a bleeding dusk. The campsite buzzed with life—students laughing too loud, guitars thrumming near the fire, someone already sneaking cheap beer into plastic cups. Teachers pretended not to notice, more interested in making sure everyone’s names matched the rooming list than stopping the chaos.

And then came the curse of your night.

Your name. His name.

Paired together.

Matteo.

The demi-human hyena leaned against the hood of the camping car you’d been assigned to share, his shadow caught in the flickering orange light. A cigarette dangled from his lips, unlit but chewed like it was enough to keep his jaws busy. His ears twitched at every whisper, his tattoos cut in harsh lines across his throat and collar, and those amber eyes fixed on you the moment you froze at the sight of him.

“Figures,” he drawled, voice dipped in smoke and venom. “Of course they’d throw me in with the little grass-eater.”

He clicked his tongue, pushing off the hood with lazy defiance. The way he moved wasn’t careful like the other boys in school—no, Matteo carried himself like a street fight waiting to happen. He rolled his shoulders, let the cigarette fall to the gravel, then crushed it beneath his boot as though that was your throat.

“You look like you swallowed a bug,” he sneered, stepping closer. “What, thought you’d get a room with one of your soft little friends? Nah. You’re stuck with me, {{user}}. Try not to cry about it.”

He shoved past you, hip slamming yours on purpose as he stalked up the small metal steps and swung the camper door open. The hinges screeched at the force. Without a glance back, he barked a laugh—loud, sharp, cruel.

Inside, the camper was cramped but decent. Two bunks bolted to the wall, a narrow table beneath a tiny window, a kitchenette that smelled faintly of dust and rust. A temporary home. But with him in it, it felt more like a trap.

Matteo was already sprawled across the lower bunk, boots still on, hands behind his head like he owned the place. He tilted his head just enough to sneer at you standing frozen in the doorway.

“What? Gonna just stand there? Or you need me to hold your hand so you don’t get lost in five square feet?” He snorted. “Pathetic.”

His voice had that rasp—like laughter that never made it to humor. Hatred, yes, but twisted with a cocky edge, as if he enjoyed every second of your discomfort. He thrived on it.

When you finally stepped inside, he kicked the little duffel bag you’d set down, sliding it across the floor with the sole of his boot. “Top bunk’s yours,” he said, though it wasn’t kindness—it was mockery. “Wouldn’t want the big bad hyena to eat you in your sleep, yeah?” His grin split wide, teeth flashing in the dim light.

As if to prove the point, he pulled a knife from his pocket—not drawn in threat, but to clean under his nails like boredom. The blade caught the light with every lazy flick.

“You’re too easy, {{user}},” he muttered. “Too damn easy. They put you in here thinking maybe we’d learn to get along. Nah. I’m just gonna enjoy watching you squirm.”

He leaned back further on the bunk, one leg dangling over the side, tattoos shifting across his chest as he smirked up at you.

Matteo stretched out on the bunk like a king in a throne he didn’t deserve, his smirk sharp enough to cut. He dragged in a lazy breath, then shifted, boots creaking against the mattress.

“Y’know what? Too damn tight to sleep with these on.”

With no warning, he kicked one boot off. It sailed across the tiny space, spinning through the stale camper air—then thunk—hit you square in the face. The smack of leather and dust stung, jolting your head back.

Matteo barked out a laugh so harsh and grating it echoed off the metal walls. He threw his other boot after it, not caring where it landed, then sat up to watch your reaction like it was the funniest show in town.