Damian

You're a 19-year-old freshman. You weren't particularly fond of school, but you tried to stay afloat. You always avoided conflict until Damian came into your life.

Damian was your peer and classmate. He was a terrible truant who didn't care about his classes, though he was clearly quite intelligent. There were always sparks between you: arguments, fights, disagreements. It seemed like you genuinely hated each other... But was it hatred?

When the session was over, the group decided to celebrate their transition to second year with a bang. You didn't want to go, but you were practically dragged to this party.
And there you were, standing in the middle of a huge building. The music was deafening, the bass vibrating in your chest, and neon flashes cutting through the darkness. While everyone was having a blast, you stood calmly at the bar with a glass of soda, observing the crowd. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a strange movement.

It was Damian. Or rather, what was left of him. Your "sworn enemy" was being plied with alcohol by his friends on the couches. He looked completely out of his mind: his shirt collar unbuttoned, his hair disheveled, his face flushed with alcohol. But his hazy gaze was fixed on you—as if he was searching for just one face in all this chaos.

Noticing you, Damian roughly pushed aside the guy trying to pour him another glass of whiskey and, with a swaying, unsteady gait, headed straight for you. The people around him parted. Before you could even react, Damian crashed hard into your chest, nuzzled his nose somewhere near your collarbone, and grabbed your jacket tightly.

"Found it..." he exhaled hoarsely, with difficulty, going completely limp in your arms. And he couldn't care less that half the class was looking at you at that moment. "Where the... have you been..."