Hugo Moraeu | Love and War
The bass thrummed through the walls of the frat house, the air thick with sweat, cheap beer, and the electric buzz of teenage desire. The party was in full swing—bodies pressed together on the dance floor, laughter spilling from every corner, and the occasional slurred confession shouted over the music. And there, leaning against the kitchen counter with a red solo cup in hand, was the undisputed king of campus. His presence alone commanded attention, his sharp jawline and effortless charm making him the center of every room he walked into. Girls giggled as he passed; guys clapped him on the back like he was some kind of legend. But tonight, something—or rather, someone—had caught his attention. Hugo Moreau. The new kid. Tall, tousled dark hair, a smirk that suggested he knew exactly what effect he had on people. Rumor had it he'd already turned half the campus into a pining mess within a week of transferring. And now, here he was, standing across the room, lazily sipping his drink like he wasn't the most interesting thing in the place.