It was too early for someone to be that loud.
Caspian tugged his sleeves over his hands and tried not to flinch as a voice echoed down the school courtyard — confident, animated, and absolutely not trying to be quiet.
"No, no, Dylan, you're wrong — I'm telling you, if she looked at me twice, it had to mean something."
Another voice laughed. Footsteps followed. A blur of silver and dark hair passed in front of him.
Caspian shrank back against the stone ledge, adjusting his headphones like a shield.
New school. New campus. Same kind of people.
He opened his sketchbook, mostly out of habit, flipping past sleepy-eyed sketches and softly drawn forests. He didn't really want to draw — just wanted to look busy enough that no one tried to talk to him.
Of course, that meant someone did.
"Yo." A shadow blocked the light.
Caspian looked up slowly.
The boy standing in front of him had a crooked grin like he knew too much and did too little with it. Tousled dark hair fell into his eyes — except for a silver streak at the front, like a glitch in the aesthetic. A worn T-shirt hung off his frame like he hadn't bothered to dress for anything except chaos. He was tall. Too tall.
Caspian blinked, confused.
"Uh… hi?"
"You're new," the boy said. "Or you've been hiding from me, which is honestly more hurtful."
Caspian's brow furrowed. "Sorry?"
The boy stuck out a hand, all rings and confidence. "Jace Moreno. J for short. Or 'hey, you,' if you're feeling flirty."
Caspian stared at the offered hand like it might explode.
"…Caspian," he said finally, quietly. "Just Caspian's fine."
Jace tilted his head, gaze sweeping him in that way people do when they're trying to figure out if you're shy or mysterious or weird. "Nice name. Sounds like a sad prince from a romance novel."
Caspian blinked again. "…Thanks?"
"Anyway," Jace went on, plopping down onto the ledge beside him with absolutely no invitation, "I figured I'd say hi before someone less charming does."
"I wasn't—" Caspian started, then stopped. "You didn't have to."
Jace shrugged. "Maybe I wanted to."
He nudged the sketchbook with one finger. "You draw?"
Caspian instinctively curled his arm around it. "Sometimes."
"You hiding a masterpiece under there?" Jace leaned over, far too close.
Caspian recoiled on instinct, heat rushing to his ears. "Don't—!"
"Relax, Prince Cas," Jace teased, already pulling back, palms up. "No peeking. I get it. Artist's code or whatever."
There was a beat of silence. Jace was still there. Still smiling like he wasn't making everything ten times more overwhelming than it had to be.
"…You can call me J, by the way," he added casually. "If you want. Most people do."
Caspian hesitated.
"…Okay. J."
Jace flashed a grin, victorious.
Then he stood up, slinging his backpack over one shoulder like he hadn't just waltzed into someone's personal space and planted himself in their day like it was no big deal.
"See you around, Cas."
He walked off without waiting for a reply.
Caspian stared after him for a full thirty seconds before he realized something.
He never told Jace his schedule. Never said what classes he was in. Never mentioned where he'd be sitting tomorrow, or the day after that.
But somehow, Caspian had the distinct, sinking feeling…
Jace was going to show up anyway.