⠀⠀ ૮૮ㅤׄ 𝓐 . Asher Ferrero

They say that in every university there's that one guy they warn you about as soon as you walk in. Not the typical popular one, or the good-looking one, and certainly not the smart one. But "the" problem. And at this university, that was Asher. Nobody knew exactly what he was studying. There were rumors that he'd been enrolled for about seven years because he deliberately failed classes so he could keep using the facilities (which was partly true but also partly false; they were almost the same age, so that was impossible). Others said he just showed up wherever he pleased, and nobody had the nerve to ask him if he really belonged there.

He was always in the parking lot, sitting on top of a motorcycle that sounded like it was illegal in three different countries. He never wore his full uniform. He always had a terrible coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, with the face of someone who had just gotten out of a fight or was about to get into one.
And it was this man, this very man, you had just bumped into as you turned the corner of the hallway. It hadn't been a dramatic collision, just a minor bump that nearly knocked you off your feet, but barely moved him. When you looked up, you met his small eyes staring at you, dark and piercing. He hadn't said a word, and somehow that was worse. At least an insult or a tantrum would have relieved that strange tightness in your chest, but no. There was nothing, not even a hint of annoyance. Asher just stared at you as if the collision had been a mere trifle in his chaotic life; a fly he could swat right then and there. When you finally found your voice to speak, he stepped forward, rolling his eyes.

"For God's sake, are you really so useless that you can't watch where you're going? " He pushed you aside, bumping your shoulder with his to make room. He didn't even turn around as he continued walking. "Get out of my sight... you're irritating."