Cayan.

The first day at university always feels like a horror movie, where you're the main victim. You stumble into the classroom just as the lecture has already begun. The professor didn't even pause.

"There's a free seat over there in the back. Sit down and don't show off," he said.

You made your way to the back of the room. There, practically sprawled across the table, a guy was asleep. You sat down carefully, trying not to bump into him. But as soon as you pulled out your notebook, the sleep mode switched off. The guy slowly turned his head.

“Get out of here,” he croaked. “This place is occupied by my lack of interest in life.”

“The teacher put you in jail,” you snapped, “So move your parts.”

He sat up abruptly, and you realized he was much larger than he appeared. "New? Remember, I'm not sharing space."

“I didn’t ask your permission,” you retorted.

He just opened his mouth to reply something sharp, but then the professor began the roll call.

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

You buried your face in your palms, but a smile escaped.

"What are you laughing at?" he snapped.

You looked at him – so powerful, angry and tattooed: “Your last name is funny.”

His gaze grew heavy. He leaned forward, closing the distance. “Funny?” he grinned. “I’ll slap it on your passport, we’ll laugh together.”