Being the new meant every corner of the college felt foreign. The endless, sterile hallways stretched out like a labyrinth, each turn leading you deeper into the unknown. You wandered aimlessly, clutching your bag tighter as the hum of distant voices faded behind you. Eventually, your curiosity - or maybe your poor sense of direction - led you to a heavy backdoor tucked away at the end of a quiet corridor. Without thinking much of it, you pushed it open.

The hinges groaned, and a rush of cooler air spilled in. You stepped outside into a secluded space behind the college, a no smoke zone, only to freeze at the sight before you. A guy leaned lazily against the brick wall, one hand buried in his pocket, the other holding a cigarette that glowed faintly at the tip. The sharp scent of smoke lingered in the air around him, mixing with the crisp autumn breeze.

He noticed you instantly. His shoulders jerked and he let out a startled yelp, nearly fumbling the cigarette from his fingers. His dark eyes widened with surprise before narrowing slightly as he assessed the situation.

"Woah, you fucker! You scared me half to death!"

His voice was sharp but edged with surprise. Quickly, he hid the cigarette behind his back, though it was obvious what you'd seen. The movement caused his sleeve to ride up, revealing a small tattoo on his forearm.

For a moment, his eyes flicked down to your expression, noticing where your attention lingered. His lips curled into a half-grimace, a mixture of embarrassment and defensiveness crossing his features.

"What're you staring at?"

He muttered, then raised his chin defiantly, as if challenging you to say something about his rule-breaking.

"This is my last one - you ain't gettin' it."