You let out a hum of agreement and turn back to your laptop, ready to close it when your phone loudly buzzes against the desk. Picking it up, you glance down at the screen, seeing a notification from your friend.

Tanselle: I’m waiting outside. Hurry up 

Quietly letting out an amused huff, you tilt your phone towards Kiera who excitedly grins, immediately starting to gather her things. You both leave the lecture ten minutes early, blaming nothing but Professor Ashford's monotone. Before slipping out the room, your gaze lingers on the crimson red dragon emblem etched into the wall. 

“You coming?” Kiera calls, which pulls you out of your daze and you shake your head freeing yourself from distraction. 

Searching for your tall friend in the vast hallway, when your gaze lands on Tanselle you shoot her a small smile, to which she returns with an eye-roll feigning annoyance. “Missed me that much, huh? I’ve only been gone an hour.” You tease her, practically grinning. 

In return, she wraps her arm around Kiera’s shoulders and playfully replies. “Nice try, but I missed Kiera way more.” 

“Eager much?” Kiera shakes her head, delicately fixing her light pink sweater. Glancing between both of you, she catches the lingering grin on your lips and rolls her eyes in an affectionate yet annoyed manner. 

“Wow. Replaced already? I see how it is, Tan.” You raise your eyebrow, crossing your arms as you take a step closer. 

“Stop flirting and start walking, please. Now move!” Kiera untangles herself from Tanselle’s arms and grabs you, hooking her arms through yours, clearly attempting to flee the building.

Walking through the hall, you felt comforted in the presence of your friends, quietly listening to them chat about anything and everything. Kiera and Tanselle were your closest friends, having met them at the start of the semester you three had grown almost inseparable. 

You had met Tanselle at a crowded and sweaty bar in freshers week, and you were immediately drawn to her effortless style, existing in her own orbit. Hitting it off, you found out she was studying Liberal Arts and Culture. You admired her courage to pursue things she loved, unlike you who decided to retreat into the stable field of law. Often, you envied her for being brave. 

Kiera had been a whole different story, you had met her in your first week of classes and sat next to her a few times before actually talking to her. Completely polished and composed her pencil case and laptop comedically matched her light pink hair. After a few lessons and many stolen glances, you had worked up the courage to ask if she wanted to get lunch sometime. After that, you had come to the realization that the intimidatingly beautiful girl was dragging you by your sleeve to her new “favorite” spot. 

Stepping into the crisp autumn air, the cold wind nipped at your face, yet you found warmth in the familiar rhythm of your friends. Soon enough, you found yourself at Kiera’s “new” favorite spot. Finding a quiet corner in the cafe, you sunk into your chair, as the cafe bustled around you. 

Kiera’s perfectly manicured nails tapped the wooden surface of the table, the sound blending seamlessly into the low chatter and clicking of laptops. Catching the sly glint in her eyes, you knew this was a sign she was bursting with excitement to tell you both something. 

“I know that look.” You groan, slumping in the chair you cross your arms, tilting your head towards her with a knowing look. 

“What look?” She leans forward, trying to conceal the excitement in her tone. 

“That one── That exact one, right now.” Your voice drops into a low and cautious grumble. Eyeing Tanselle in a questioning manner, silently interrogating her as if she's already an accomplice in whatever's happening. 

“Hey, I have no part in this.” She denies, simply meeting your gaze and offering you a helpless shrug, suggesting she's just as unaware as you are. 

Warily your gaze lands on Kiera again, whose grinning now, clearly delighted by your cautiousness. “Oh stop. I promise it’s not even bad,” she insists, laughing as she waves her hand dismissively. 

“Mhm,” you hum, tone dripping with sarcasm. “That look usually results in me getting no sleep and awake until dawn. Oh my god, I'm gonna end up face-down in a ditch. I know it.” You reply, fighting the urge to bang your head against the table in protest to her. 

“It’ll be fun!” Kiera adds, expression feigning offense. 

“As long as it’s not me.” Tanselle mutters, finding your hopeless figure amusing. 

Kiera’s laughter dies down as she gives Tanselle a sharp look, suggesting there was no way of escaping her plans, “You’re not getting out of it either.” Clamping her mouth shut, Tanselle’s shoulders go stiff, to which you muffle a quiet laugh. She didn’t dare speak another word, but her “help me” expression said everything. 

You sigh, and furrow your eyebrows, “Okay…” you say, leaning back in the chair. “So what’s this fun you’re so excited about?”

Kiera’s expression brightens dramatically, as if she was waiting for you to ask her. Sitting up straight, her eyes move towards you, she lets out a giggle.

“So,” she starts, “Lyonel is hosting a house party tonight.”

“Nope.” Tanselle immediately replies, heavy with exasperation.

“Is it a rager?” You ask, though not completely sold on the idea. Tanselle snorts at your question. 

“Well, yes!” Keira replies, showing no signs of shame at all. “And before you guys try and say anything── I got invited yesterday, and I thought we could all go together.” 

“We?” You bark out, narrowing your eyes at her. Sure, you didn’t mind a house party once in a while, and often indulged in them. However, hearing it would be a rager hosted by Lyonel Baratheon did rattle you a little. His parties were known for being insane, and that meant that half the campus would show up── resulting in someone fighting for their life or the cops parked outside.

“Yes, we!” She says in a sweetly sick tone, to which Tanselle can only grunt at. Shaking your head at the idea you already feel overstimulated over thinking about it. “Kiera, you know those parties are like── insane.”

She completely dismisses your worries, waving her hand in front of your face. “Come on, relax. Besides, Lyonel will be absolutely delighted you’re coming.” 

Tanselle casts a knowing glance at you, immediately letting out a laugh. “Uh-huh. He’ll be over the moon,” she sang, letting your name roll off her tongue, her gaze lingering a second too long to be anything other than blatant tease. 

“Don’t.” You groan, dragging your hands over your face in pure embarrassment. 

“You know,” Kiera leans forward on the table in an attempt to catch your attention despite your miserable slump. “Whenever he sees me, he keeps asking me if his ‘favorite girl’ is coming to the next big party.”

“She danced with him once.” Kiera snorts, clearly amused by Kiera’s teasing and your embarrassment. When she notices that you are ignoring her teasing, she continues, “Must’ve been a damn good dance, right?”

“Apparently the best.” Kiera adds on, far too amused for her own good. 

You whine in annoyance and inhale, trying to ground yourself. “Please tell me he doesn’t actually call me that.” 

The memory made you wince. You had been at one of Lyonel’s parties earlier in the semester and had gotten far more drunk than you had intended.

Despite not remembering much of that night, you vaguely remember Lyonel appearing in front of you on the dance floor. He had extended his hand towards you, wearing a stupidly charming grin. And somehow, without thinking twice, you had taken it. You call it foolish, Kiera liked to call it liquid courage. 

Dancing without a care in the world, Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face” had been thumping through the room. It was a complete blur of sweaty bodies pressing shoulder to shoulder and the bright flashing lights gleaming through the light. You vaguely remember laughing, spinning, and holding onto Lyonel’s shoulders as he pulled you closer. He leaned close to whisper into your ear loud enough to hear over the loud music. 

“I think you’re my favorite dance partner tonight,” he grinned with a slightly crooked smile, “Trouble, aren't you?”

After that night you tried your absolute best to avoid Lyonel whenever you spotted him around campus. 

Purely out of embarrassment.

Upon this embarrassing memory resurfacing you sit there for a moment, weighing the idea in your head. 

Sure, partying like crazy wasn’t the usual for you, especially at parties Lyonel hosted. However, you hadn’t gone out to a house party in a while, and you couldn’t bring yourself to flake on your best friend. She would simply never forgive you. So, maybe letting loose for a night wouldn’t be a terrible idea, though the thought of seeing Lyonel again deeply shook you. 

You nod with a small sigh, “Alright, one party. 

Kiera’s face lights up in absolute joy, on the other hand Tanselle’s expression drops. You give her a knowing smile, which she can’t help but smile back at despite not wanting to go. 

“Awhh, I knew you’d say yes── eventually!” She jokes, a satisfied smile tugging on her lips.

Soon after agreeing to go to the party, the three of you gather your things and make your way out of the cozy cafe. Once outside, the familiar autumn bite found you again, wrapping around your shoulders like a cold you had not invited. 

Standing next to the door, you pause. 

“Go on ahead without me,” you tell them, reaching into your warm jacket pocket, fumbling to find your lighter.

Kiera narrows her eyes at you bitterly. “Are you serious?” 

You hum, “Mhm.” and pull out your pack of cigarettes, pulling one out of the pack you hold it between your fingers. “I’ll catch up in a bit.” You casually mention.

“It’s bad for your teeth.” Tanselle dryly replies, although you can tell she's just trying to make fun of your bad habit. You can only flash her an annoyingly innocent smile. 

“Smoking kills, you know.” Kiera adds, crosses her arms in disapproval.

You only wink at her tauntingly as you slowly lift the cigarette to your lips.

“Is that so?”

She just shakes her head, turning around to walk off with Tanselle, muttering something under her breath about its health risks. However, she quickly turns around and calls out your name, “We’ll come to your apartment around 8 to get ready!” she yells, and turns back around before you can even manage to give her answer. 

Leaving you lingering behind with a fond smile, you light the cigarette between your lips and take a long drag. 

Just as you flick the growing ash of the cigarette, the low hum of an engine pulls your attention towards the street. A car pulls up too smoothly to belong to a student, yet you recognise it straight away. The sleek black shape of the Porsche 911 glides through your field of vision, and you already know who it is. 

The door of the car opens, and Valarr Targaryen steps out, the cold air catching onto the edge of his navy blue Ralph Lauren sweater. Stepping out like he belongs everywhere he goes, you suddenly become very aware of the cigarette between your fingers. 

Golden Boy, you had liked to call him in private. 

He certainly had radiated that, always looking impossibly put together, and today was no different. His sweater had sat crisply against his shoulders over a button-up blouse── collar peeking out deliberately, tailored perfectly to his exact preferences. His black slacks fall over his Loro Piana loafers in precision, which makes you feel severely underdressed in comparison to him. To put it simply, he looked sumptuous. 

Smoke curls lazily in the air around you, smelling faintly of nicotine. His eyes find you immediately, as if he had been looking for you, which makes you straighten up without noticing. Then, he smiles. Feeling slightly awkward under his charming smile, you lift your hand to wave at him. 

Instead of waving back, he crosses over the street and strides over towards you, hands tucked in his pockets. When he approaches, his gaze lingers over you, his polite smile remaining in place, though it seems too warm just to be polite. You probably shouldn’t stare too much. 

“Hey.” he says, his voice warm and smooth. It seems measured, though you suppose it is. He’s most likely been raised to measure every single word. 

“Hi,” you reply, mentally trying to stop yourself from stammering in front of him. Swallowing, you tilt your head up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing here?”

“Kiera said you’d be here.” He answered blatantly, almost too easily. 

Right. 

Of course, you had forgotten that they knew each other. Their families had been business partners for years, long before any of you had ended up at university. However, there's something about the next words he says that has you pausing completely. 

“I thought I might run into you. I hoped I would.”

For a moment you just stare at him, not completely sure what to say. Your eyes remain on him longer than they should, yet he doesn’t look away either── mismatched eyes seemingly taking you in, entirely. Ash falls onto the pavement and you consider putting the cigarette out, you don't. 

You hate how nervous you feel, standing next to him makes you feel unfinished. He looks like the kind of person who has everything figured out, he’s smart and composed, the type of person people naturally gravitate towards. You couldn’t feel any further from that. Your chest tightens a little. Though, you’re not sure whether it's the stark contrast between the two of you, or the way his gaze seems to linger on you. 

Despite everything, you find it hard to look away. 

Valarr was in your course, a law student just like you. In your seminars he had been nothing but kind, always giving you gentle smiles or walking you to your next lecture if your classes lined up. Often he had asked if you wanted to grab coffee in between seminars. You figured he was just being polite, it was in his nature. Yet, his smiles had lingered, your conversations had become more honest and you had found yourself wondering if── no. It seemed a bit too extreme, Valarr Targaryen liking you was unlikely at best. Too good to be true.

But here you are, still watching him. 

“So you were looking for me?” You break the silence, a coy smile growing on your lips.

“I was actually.” He says, untucking his hands from his pockets he rolls up the sleeve of his sweater. Your stomach does something strange at that. “You weren’t in yesterday.”

“Mhm,” You nod at him, taking a final drag of your cigarette you threw it on the ground and stepped on it. “I skipped.” You both don’t say anything, and he simply looks at you, like really looks at you.

“I can give you the notes on the seminar if you want.” He offers kindly, to which you let out a soft laugh. The Golden Boy, you remembered, always prepared, ever so helpful. “Wait── Professor Arlan? His class was actually good enough that you managed to take notes?”

Valarr laughs, quietly amused by you. His smile lingers a little longer, as if he doesn’t mind being the subject of your attention. “Well… I thought you might want them.” He looks down briefly, before running his hand through his hair, glancing at the cigarette your shoes crushed on the floor, but says nothing. 

Your mind drifts to the house party tonight, so you bring it up casually── almost absentmindedly. “You’ve been to one of Lyonel’s ragers right?”

Valarr stills at the name, smile fading slightly. “Rager?” He asks, gaze drifting towards you feigning confusion, suddenly seeming more careful. 

“You know like…I mean one of those massive house parties.” You answer like it's not important, looking down as you answer, trying to avoid his piercing gaze. 

“No.” He answers, his jaw tightening slightly. “Not really. I’ve heard about them.” His tone sounds guarded, like he’s treading carefully around the topic, like he’s choosing his words. As if he knows exactly what types of people go to these parties, and who in particular shows up every single time. 

You hum in response, “Well, I’m supposed to be going tonight.” As the words leave your mouth, you glance up, checking his reaction. Maybe you're looking for something, though you're not sure what exactly it is. 

For a split second, his expression tightens. It’s hardly noticeable, subtle, but certainly there. There’s a faint pause of his breath, paired with a quiet and cautious look.

“Oh.” 

He looks affected, as if the idea of you going matters. You try to not read into it too much, but you feel an unexpected flicker of satisfaction, a strange and warm feeling in your chest. His hands tighten as he carries on talking, “I have a gala with my parents tonight. Otherwise I would’ve offered to go with you.” He strangely mentions, which makes you assume he was concerned for you. He almost says something, but stops himself.

You brush off his concerns, “It’s just a party. I’ll survive.” 

Just as he’s about to answer, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Giving you an apologetic smile he reaches for it and scans the screen, brows furrowing in slight annoyance. He sighs, “I should go, my father’s waiting for me.” 

Standing opposite of him you nod understandingly, not pushing for any details. His troubled expression shifts as he turns his attention to you again, “Do you want me to drop you off home?” he offers, eyes fixed on you insistingly. 

“It’s not far, I’ll walk. But thank you anyway.” You decline, and wave goodbye as you begin to walk, feeling the slight breeze brush against your face. 

You come to a quick halt when you feel a much larger hand wrap around your wrist, the pad of a thumb brushing softly against your skin. Valarr holds your wrist, not tightly, but just enough to stop you. Swallowing in hopes to calm your nerves, you glance over your shoulder to look at him. And  you notice the serious expression painting his face, concern obviously there. 

“Be careful tonight, please.” He says quietly, almost too softly. 

You don’t ask why or question him, instead you just nod. For a moment, his soft touch lingers, his hand remaining on your wrist. Letting go, he steps back without peeling his eyes off you. Then you watch him walk back to his car as you stand there, still feeling his lingering touch. 

──

“Do you think this looks cute?” 

“I liked the first dress more.” Tanselle hums at Kiera, applying foundation with great precision as she sits at your vanity, finishing her makeup. The afternoon glint was long gone, replaced with a dark blanket covering the sky. The three of you were getting ready, Fleetwood Mac playing softly on the speaker while you all chatted, drowning out the music. 

“Wait, really?” Kiera says in surprise, quickly grabbing the other dress that was folded neatly on your chair near the desk. 

“Yeah── is this too much?” Tanselle turned around, tilting her head as she questioned whether she went overboard with her makeup.

“Just perfect,” You replied as you walked out of your bathroom wearing a cute outfit you had put together, feeling a particular surge of confidence. 

Your best friends gaped, showering you with compliments, which made you shy away. Tanselle attempted to whistle, chiding as she wriggled her eyebrows. “I’m kinda jealous of Lyonel now.”

Kiera chuckled as you groaned, casting a glance at your best friend you raised your eyebrow. “Kiera, don’t encourage her.” 

“I’m sorry,” she stifles her laughter, but you could tell she was enjoying it. “But what are you going to do if he spots you this time?”

“Which he will!” Tanselle teases, and you can’t even bring yourself to think about it, growing anxious from imagining it. 

“I’m gonna have to be black-out drunk before I dance with him again.” You reply, retrieving your lip gloss from your bedside, applying it as Tanselle moves to sit on the bed beside you. 

“I think… You actually enjoyed it!” She suggests, laughing when you shoot a look at her. 

“Tan, stop with the teasing. She might run away before we get there.” Kiera said calmly, deciding on which heels she’s gonna wear. 

Despite the relentless teasing, you were actually looking forward to the party tonight. Getting ready with your two favorite people in the world was something you hadn’t done in a while, and you quickly came to realize you missed this── a lot. 

However, you had kept rethinking Valarr’s words pleading you to be careful tonight. You still couldn’t tell what his concern was exactly for, it seemed like he was thinking of something in particular, or perhaps someone. You shook the thoughts away as you turned to your girl friends, who seemed ready to leave.

“Ready?” Tanselle asked with a smile, striding towards you as she adjusted her necklace in the mirror one last time. Grabbing your small leather shoulder bag you slung it around your arm, nodding as you all headed out your apartment. 

──

You make it outside the party as the cold air brushes against your face, but you hardly take notice of it anymore. All you can think of is how large Lyonel’s place is, colossal in comparison to your small apartment. Flashing lights gleam through the windows and the music pulses so loudly that you can feel the bass vibrating through the floor beneath you. 

The front lawn is crowded with people, making you question how many people will actually be inside. Groups of friends linger, laughing with drinks in their hands, some overly drunk leaning on their friends for support. 

It all feels so chaotic, and it all feels so alive.

You grow excited, despite the cold air you feel the anticipation growing in your chest. Leading your friends inside, you come to the realization that here, it’s even louder than expected. The music hits you in full force and the shimmering lights flash across your eyes. Kiera takes it upon herself to grab your hand tightly, unwilling to let go so she doesn’t lose you in the busy crowd. Tanselle moves through the crowd in front of you, tall enough that you won’t be able to lose her in the sea of people. 

People dance on each other, pressed together beneath the dark, some kissing and some grinding on each other with no shame whatsoever. 

Weaving through the crowd, you make it to the kitchen where it seems a lot calmer, the loud music and chattering dying out. Tanselle searches through the cupboards and reaches for three shot glasses while you grab a bottle from the counter, filling the glasses generously. She tilts her head excitedly, motioning for you and Kiera to pick up your shot glasses. 

“Well, welcome to Lyonel’s party!” She says in an almost sarcastic tone, clutching her drink as you all tilt your heads and knock your shots back.

“Eugh── Oh my god! That’s disgusting…” Kiera grumbles, clutching her chest as she makes a dramatic gagging sound.

“Sorry, would you prefer a champagne cosmopolitan?” You tease her, which she rolls her eyes to. 

Tanselle pours another round as you giggle at Kiera’s dramatic gags, making sure the shot glasses are filled to the brim. You and her knock back another round as Kiera silently judges you, eyes widening in disgust and mild horror. Before she can voice words of protest you giggle and grab both of your friends hands and drag them out of the kitchen, leading them to the crowd of people dancing. 

Already feeling a light buzz, you tell them both, “Come on!” as you make your way through the crowd. You clumsily begin to twirl Kiera beneath the flashing lights, making her gasp in surprise as you almost collide with someone nearby. The air smelt like sweat, perfume, alcohol, but strangely enough it's comforting to you. Nobody cares, nobody's thinking too hard about anything, they're all just having fun. 

The music thumps loudly as the bass drops loudly, and a sudden shout cuts through the chaos, catching everyone's attention. 

“Lyonel!” 

You freeze in terror, blinking in shock as he emerges through the crowd upstairs, grinning while holding an expensive bottle of whiskey in his right hand. He waves and yells back at people, greeting some girls with playful hugs and nudging his friends. He continues to move through the crowd like he owns every single inch of this room── which he does. 

Staring at faces in the crowd, and then, almost like fate, you catch his sparkling eyes. His grin widens absurdly, excitement taking over his features. 

“There’s my girl!” He shouts, his voice somehow booming over the ridiculously loud music. 

You glance back at your friends slowly, with wide eyes. They only laugh at your horror-struck expression and gently shove you towards him. Stumbling towards him, you can’t help but laugh, the horror washing away as he approaches in long and prideful strides. 

His large hands reach for your shoulders and he pulls you closer to him. “You have absolutely no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you!” His voice booms, the whiskey making him more exaggerated than usual. 

You laugh at his charming words and wrap your hands around his arms, “Me too──! I’m so glad to see you!” You lied to him, which made his grin widen nonsensically. 

Instead of responding, Lyonel twirls you around, pulling you towards him. Laughing like a storm, he wraps his hands around your back as flashing lights sweep over your bodies. Dancing along with him within the chaos of sweaty bodies you both move together on the dance floor. Perhaps he was your favorite dance partner as well, you were enjoying this immensely. 

“Whats your favorite party song?” He turns towards you, leaning close to your ear so that he wouldn’t need to shout over the music. 

“Um… I don’t know, maybe um── Sexyback!” You reply enthusiastically, giggling as his grin splits wider, if that was even possible. Throwing his arms in the air he laughs.

“Someone! Fucking play Justin Timberlake!” He yells out, winking at you as his body flails theatrically. You burst out in a fit of giggles, nearly stumbling into a drunk boy as Sexyback begins playing and Lyonel resumes dancing. 

The heat of the room creeps up on you, suddenly feeling very tipsy and hot. You pause, gesturing to Lyonel that you were going to go outside, awkwardly mimicking sliding a cigarette up to your lips using your index fingers. He understands instantly, without missing a beat of the music he gestures back, pulling a thumbs-up while still moving his body to the rhythm of the music. He yells out “Come find me later!” which you nod to, shaking your head as you stumble away, crowd slightly parting as you try to escape. Your heart thumps as you smile at the ridiculousness of the night so far. 

Pushing through the doors, you head towards the outdoors patio. Stepping outside, the cold air hits you like a shock to your system. You stand there for a brief second, breathing in the fresh air in the dark. It feels good to escape the harsh and suffocating heat of the house, the music thumping inside relentlessly. 

Moving towards the stone ledge that separates the grass from the patio you dig into your small leather bag which smells of perfume and sweat. Your hand searches blindly for your lighter, coming across lip balm, a receipt you had lost ages ago, and gum. But no cigarettes. You curse in frustration, shoes digging into the floor as you dig again, this time slowly in hopes of retrieving even one stray cigarette. 

Nothing.

“Fucking seriously?” You groan, back slumping in utter torment as you had magically hoped one would appear. Of all nights you could’ve forgotten them, it had to be tonight. 

Your eyes scan the groups of people outside in hopes to find someone smoking who would kindly give you a cigarette. Hell, you’d even be willing to give them a kiss on the cheek as a thank you. Groups of people linger, couples talking, friends laughing, a pair of men arguing about music, but nobody’s smoking. You find yourself wondering if smoking had been banned or everybody universally decided to give it up just for tonight. 

Sighing again, you push away from the ledge and squeeze through the crowd of people, scanning the patio in determination. You weren’t gonna give up just yet, you’re sure someone had to be smoking, or at least carrying a pack with them. Fuck, even iqos would do in this situation. 

That's when you spot him, standing slightly afar from everybody else, but close enough that the dim porch light barely hits him. His short silver hair is disheveled yet looks more intentional than accidental, framing his face perfectly. 

Your gaze lingers on him and then slowly drifts downwards, taking in his figure entirely. His crimson red leather jacket hangs loosely off one shoulder, the kind that looks worn out in an expensive way, fastened with metallic pyramid-shaped studs that glimmer whenever they catch the light. Underneath, a light grey mesh top clings to his lean torso, revealing his toned chest slyly. Clunky silver chains rest against his collarbone, tangled with other thinner necklaces which are connected to a distinctive orb charm, Vivienne Westwood. But what completely catches your attention is his belt, hung dangerously low against his waist. It’s impossible to miss. 

A massive silver dragon head. 

Custom, without a doubt. You narrow your eyes, you’ve heard of him, everyone has. Aerion Targaryen. Mad, bad and dangerous to know. He was nothing like his cousin Valarr, who you had a hard time believing he was somehow related to. There was a rumour that had once told someone, completely seriously, that he believed he was a dragon trapped in human form. 

A voice drifts in the air behind you, “A Targaryen’s here tonight.” A scoff follows. “Yeah. He’s a total asshole, spilt a drink on me then stared at me like it was my fault.”

Everyone laughs at the absurdity of it. “The pretty ones are always temperamental.”

Glancing back at him again, you feel like fate is playing a funny joke on you once again tonight. Of fucking course. He’s the only person outside holding a pack of cigarettes. He opens the pack and rests one against his fingers, bringing it to his lips and lights it, the burning tip faintly glows in the dark. 

You’re not completely sure if it’s the alcohol buzzing through your veins, or it's the curiosity, or it’s the simple fact you want a cigarette but you start walking toward him before you can change your mind. 

The close you get, the more details become clear, such as the numerous piercings on his face that faintly glow in the low light. There’s a small piercing that punctures his right eyebrow, a bridge piercing between his eyes and a pair of snakebite studs resting against his lower lip. All silver, cold and sharp against his pale skin. 

Stopping beside him in the cool air you can feel the faint smell of smoke drifting through the air. He doesn’t look at you, simply staring into the distance, fully ignoring your presence. He doesn’t acknowledge you, not even slightly, as though he's above everyone, above being at this party entirely. 

You consider leaving, instead you glance down briefly and say,

“Nice belt.”

His fixed gaze breaks as he slowly turns his head towards you── almost lazily, the distant focus in his eyes disappearing. His eyes drag over you, not politely, not kindly, but slowly. He deliberately stares at your shoes and rakes his eyes up your figure, from your waist to your face. Then, he lifts the cigarettes to his lips and takes a deep drag, still watching you with an unreadable expression. Then he exhales, and turns his head away from you as smoke spills into the air, the smell of nicotine curling around you. 

Asshole. 

You wait a moment, but he doesn’t respond and instead lifts the cigarette to his lips again, the ember glowing briefly in the dark. You glance at the tattoo that spreads across his skin, a dragon in ink on his collarbone curling upwards across his neck, disappearing just beneath his ear. 

“The tattoo’s interesting too.” You try again, not as determined as before. You tilt your head, eyes lingering on his neck, studying it more openly now. “I’ve always wanted one,” You admit casually, “Never been brave enough though. ‘Feel like it would hurt too much.”

“Yeah. You look the type.” That does it, glancing back at you slowly his expression doesn’t change as he exhales the cold air, idly shifting his foot in front of the other. He seems unimpressed. 

Instead of giving him the reaction he wants, you laugh softly as you shuffle on your feet absentmindedly. This seemingly irritates him more than if you had taken offense, his nose scrunches as he clenches his jaw, looking away again. 

“So it hurt then?” You ask lightly, subtly jabbing him while gesturing towards the dragon tattoo. You might as well entertain yourself. 

“No.” He scoffs in disbelief, perhaps even confused on why you hadn’t left him alone yet. He pauses, and his eyes flicker in slight amusement which catches you off-guard. “You’d probably pass out.”

You laugh again, his insult more amusing to you than anything in this particular moment. His eyes flicker over to you again, as if reassessing his earlier judgements about you. 

You toy idly with the ring on your finger as you glance at the cigarette between his lips, once again.

“You wouldn’t happen to be feeling generous tonight, would you?” 

His eyes roll, almost as if he had been predicting this since the moment you had walked over. You think he might refuse, he seems like the type that would. Instead he sighs and slips his hand into his inner pockets, retrieving a pack of Marlboro Red’s. Tapping his fingers against the box as he slides you a cigarette, holding it out to you. 

Your lips lift upwards in a slight smile as you raise your eyebrows, shocked at his sudden kindness. You didn’t really expect he’d give you one, he was rude and egotistical, not exactly the delightful type. 

You reach for it as you glance at his large hands, several rings covering his fingers, chunky pieces that look heavy enough to leave impressions on his skin. When you take the cigarette from him your hand brushes against his slender fingers donning cold rings── his cold skin against your warm fingers. 

He pulls out a lighter from his dark jeans and then steps closer, closing the distance between the two of you. Your shoulders shift tensely, you suddenly feel very cold in the darkness. You smell a mix of nicotine, violet, and leather, his cologne becoming a large presence between you both. You bring the cigarette to your lips as the soft pad of his thumb flicks the lighter. His large hand rises instinctively, cupping around the tip of the cigarette to shield it from the light wind. The flame flickers weakly. The cold breeze cuts between you and Aerion. 

Clicking his tongue in annoyance he puts the lighter back in his pocket and glances back up at you and gestures to the cigarette dangling lazily between his lips. Your face knits in confusion and you exhale slowly when you understand what he means. You lean in closer, tilting your head upwards as he moves his face closer, and you feel heat rise to your face. He connects the ends of your cigarettes, the ember faintly glowing in a shared dance of flickering flames. 

The cold is long forgotten as his violet eyes briefly glance down at your lips, inhaling before he looks back up again. Tilting his head slightly the ember burns brighter and he pulls away first removing the cigarette from his mouth as he exhales into the chilly night air. 

Smoke curls upwards as you also exhale and he studies you from a distance, as if he’s trying to figure something out. 

“Don’t say I ever did anything for you.”

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

Despite everything, you come to the conclusion he's still a complete asshole. Tapping the ash away from your cigarette you break eye contact, you suppose you should introduce yourself. You don’t want to be known as a cig stealing stranger after all. 

“I’m──”

“I know who you are.”

That was strange, you pause and look back up at him in confusion. You don’t answer him yet, trying to think of when you may have met him before or bumped into him. You draw a blank. 

“Do you?” You’re sure you’ve misheard him, the words sit heavy in the air between you. Heavier than it should be. 

He exhales slowly, like your question bores him. “I’ve seen you.” He vaguely says, but you’re not sure whether it’s intentional or not.

“You say it like it means something.” Narrowing your eyes, your boldness is shocking, even to you.

“It doesn’t.” He says flatly, like he doesn’t care. You realize he’s enjoying this, which only irritates you further. 

Watching him for a moment longer, you consider whether you should tread lightly or not. You decide on the latter. 

“People weren’t exaggerating.”

To that, he raises an eyebrow, flicking ash on the floor. “About what?”

“About your attitude.” 

Taking a final drag of your cigarette you savour it before throwing it on the floor and stepping on it, crushing it with your shoe. Before he can make a snarky response you brush past him, shoulders touching slightly. As you pass, your hand dips into his outer pocket, casually pulling out the pack of Marlboro Reds. 

He watches in silence as you walk away from him. With an annoying smile you hold up the pack of cigarettes and turn around and you see his expression change from confusion to irritation. Before he can reply you laugh,

“Consider it payment.” 

Then you walk away. 

──

After staying for a bit longer and making the most out of the night with your friends the three of you eventually decided it was time to get going. Being the most sober out of your trio you had walked Tanselle and Kiera back to their homes, lingering outside before leaving to make sure they got in safely. 

Eventually, the cold began to seep in as you made your way home. Your footsteps echoed in the quiet street as you walked through the familiar road that brought you to your apartment building. Streetlights stretched down the long road in golden pools of light as you pulled out your phone to text your friends you had made it home. The branches of trees rustle overhead, but other than that it’s silent. 

Pausing outside your apartment building, you pull out the stolen pack of cigarettes, deciding to have one final smoke before you go back in. The cardboard of the box is slightly crumpled as you shoved it in your jacket pocket earlier. You flick the lighter and the flame catches, and just as you bring your cigarette up to it, movement further down the street catches your eye. 

Squinting slightly you move the lighter away, inhaling as you notice someone walking towards you── more like stumbling and swaying towards you, they’re not entirely steady on their feet. You hesitate for a moment before considering whether you should help or not, but decide not to. However, you continue watching.

The streetlights flicker as the figure moves closer, and you notice that it’s a young man, probably around your age. He’s tall, very tall actually. Stumbling over a crack in the street he catches himself and lifts his head. His gaze meets yours. 

Noticing you standing there across the street, he changes directions slightly, now walking towards you. You glance around in confusion, wondering if there's anyone else around, and it seems you’re all alone. Pulling the cigarette out of your mouth you hold it in between your fingers, ready to stub him with it if necessary. 

Stopping a few feet away from you he moves his hands up defensively, as if he’s surrendering. “Easy,” he stumbles out, “Didn’t mean to scare you,.” He adds, almost apologetically. There's a faint sense of sarcasm in his tone, but it’s dulled by whatever alcohol or exhaustion has settled over him.

“You alright?” You ask him, relaxing slightly. 

“Yeah. Yep. I’m fine.” His words come out unevenly, his voice straining slightly. It takes him a moment to recollect his thoughts, but you can see he means no harm and doesn’t want to stir up any trouble. 

Now that he’s closer, you can see he’s dressed quite simply. A worn oversized Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretches over his broad form with a grey zip-up hoodie that hangs loosely over him, as if he’d thrown it on without thinking. His jeans are slightly wrinkled and fabric creased along his ankles. His shoes are old converses that look like they’ve been through hell and were begging to be put to rest. 

Even with the distance between you two he reeked of wine. Odd choice for a guy like him you figured. He shifts his weight as his gaze falls on the cigarette between your fingers. 

“Not to be rude but…” He begins, voice a little quieter than before. “Could I have one of those?” He gestured faintly toward. There's almost something sheepish in the manner he asks. 

“Yeah, sure.”

Shrugging, you pull one from the pack. You figure it’s the least you can do after stealing them from Aerion earlier. 

He steps closer and takes the cigarette from you, his actions way too gentle in comparison to his tawdry stumbling mere minutes ago. Blinking up at him, you come to the realization──  he's attractive. Like really attractive. 

Up close you can see the messy strands of dirty blonde carelessly falling onto his forehead, making him look strangely delicate. His features were soft, almost regal. But what caught your attention was his violet eyes. They were captivating, yet they had a certain sadness to them, carried by sleepless nights and exhaustion.

Something about him seems familiar, but you can’t exactly pin it down. Your lips part to say something but noticing his violet eyes glancing at you the words die in your throat. His gaze moves across your face slowly, studying you with a quiet intensity that you can’t place. 

For a brief second, his tired eyes warm up and he smiles at you. It’s not forced or polite, but genuine. The kind where you assumed he was a kind person. Instead of asking you for a lighter he clumsily pulls one out of his zip-up’s pocket and almost drops it, muttering something under his breath as he finally manages to flick the flame. Once the cigarette catches, he inhales and his eyes linger on you a little longer. There’s something in his eyes again, something sad. Then he turns around and walks away.

Shooting a look at him, you watch him go. Your mind is preoccupied with questions, or rather one main question; who is this guy? There's a strange feeling in your chest that settles, and you can’t quite explain it. 

“Hey,” You call for him suddenly.

He stops and turns back around slightly at the sound of your voice. He eyes you through his peripheral, taking note of your confused expression.

“Who are you?”

He looks like he’s deep in thought, almost caught off guard by the question. He blinks, slowly turning to face you. You can’t exactly read his expression as it remains neutral, but the way he pauses is the only thing that gives you a hint of any of his thoughts. Then he speaks,

“Nobody worth knowing.” 

You hesitate, blinking in confusion. There's no bitterness to his words you note, only acceptance. You’re not really sure how to react, you didn’t want to seem like you pity this stranger nor feel bad for him so you tilt your head to the side with a slight smile,

“I meant your name.”

For a moment, he only continues to stare at you. The sound of the quiet night surrounds you, filling the silence. He then lets out a small breath, almost a laugh, but you can tell it’s tired. He brings his arm down, gaze falling onto the cigarette that's burning between his fingers, and then he looks back up at you. 

“Thank you. For the cigarette.” 

He shifts on his feet, fidgeting a little before he offers you a smile. With slight hesitation he turns back around and begins to walk away, steadier this time. Leaving you alone in the darkness beneath the glowing streetlights.

a/n: wheww this was a long one, took me so long to write but i'm very proud of it!! i miss my wife daeron so much if u guys liked this and would like a part 2 do comment, i haven't got many plans for part 2 yet but would love to hear some ideas i love akotsk sm </33 / also notice how the title and chapter names r fleetwood mac and the smashing pumpkins references... if you would like to be added to the next parts taglist, let me know in the comments !