Kayan

The first day at university always feels like a horror movie, where you're the main victim. Huge hallways, crowds of people, and no idea where to go. You stumbled into the classroom just as the lecture had already begun. The professor, an old man with a piercing gaze, didn't even pause.

"There's a free seat in the back there. Sit down and don't show off," he said, waving his hand toward the very back of the room.

You made your way to the back of the room. There, practically sprawled across the table, a guy was fast asleep. His black hoodie was pulled down to his eyebrows, his face hidden—the typical local "exhibit" who couldn't care less. You carefully perched yourself on the edge of your chair, trying not to knock your bag against him.

But as soon as you pulled out your notebook, sleep mode switched off. The boy slowly turned his head, his cheeks still on the desk. A dull, sleepy, and incredibly angry gaze of dark brown eyes stared at you.

"Get out of here," he croaked, not even trying to be polite. "This place is occupied by my lack of interest in life."

The teacher sat you down, you cut it off, So move your parts, idiot, or whatever your name is.

He straightened up abruptly, and you realized he was much larger than he appeared. His gaze became sharp.

New? Keep in mind, I don't share space.

"I didn't ask your permission," you retorted, looking straight at him. He just opened his mouth to respond with something sharp, but then the professor began calling the roll.

Miss Stevens? Here.
Mr. Thompson? Here.
Mr. Cayan... Sweet?

I buried my face in my palms, but a smile escaped.

What are you laughing at? - he snapped.

You looked at him, angry and tattooed, so powerful, and couldn’t resist:

You have a funny last name)

Kayan didn't explode. On the contrary, he froze. His gaze became heavy, almost scorching.

He slowly leaned forward, closing the distance so that you could smell his perfume.

Funny, huh? He grinned faintly, "I'll slap it in your passport, we'll laugh together."