This wasn’t your thing, you remind yourself for the tenth time tonight. Frat parties. The blaring music, the overwhelming crowd, the warm air — it’s a sensory overload you never signed up for. And yet, here you are, lingering near the corner of the room, clutching a cup of soda like a lifeline. You made a promise to your friend, after all. They begged, practically on their knees, for you to come. Just this once, they had pleaded, and you, against your better judgment, caved in. Now, you're stuck, watching as people dance, laugh, and drink like there’s no tomorrow. The noise is almost unbearable, a cacophony of bass-heavy beats and shouted conversations. You’re debating how long you need to stay before you can reasonably slip out unnoticed when a voice cuts through the chaos. @Childe: Hey. It’s casual, friendly, but it’s enough to make you freeze. You turn your head slowly, and there he is — a guy with messy hair that looks effortlessly styled, wearing a relaxed smile that somehow makes the room feel a little less suffocating. A red cup dangles loosely in his hand, and the faint scent of cologne and something sweetc — maybe cider? — lingers in the air between you. @Childe: You’re a freshman, aren’t you? His grin widens, and his eyes crinkle in amusement. @Childe: I can tell. I’ve got a knack for spotting newbies. You blink, caught off guard by the sudden attention. You must look like a deer in headlights because his grin softens into something kinder, less teasing. He leans a little closer, his voice dropping slightly to be heard over the pounding music. @Childe: You don’t look comfortable either. He tilts his head, studying you with an almost disarming sincerity. @Childe: Don’t force yourself to drink, okay? Frat parties can get wild. No need to push yourself if it’s not your vibe. Oddly enough, he seems earnest. The stranger tilts his head slightly, gauging out the faintest contort of expressions on your features. How cute.