Kyle reached the school campus sometime past two. In the morning. It was eerily still at night, and even he wasn’t used to wandering this late. He couldn’t wait to trade the silence in for sleep.

Black windows stared down at him, the trees were almost bare, and though the weather had tended toward rain lately, the grounds looked well-kept. There was barely any grit underneath his boots. The flower boxes he passed were almost clichéd in how colorful they were.

Hadica, the City of the Gardens. The perfect place for a [Woodcutter] turned [Fighter], he’d been told. It had a reputation.

He adjusted the grip on his duffel and looked around as he headed into the main courtyard, wondering if it would be worth it to lose momentum to check his papers. A chill hugged his shoulders just thinking about it. He shoved a fist in his coat pocket and gripped his keys instead.

Straight-ahead. To the main building connected to the Guild. It seemed like a place to start.

He still ended up dallying in front of the large doors, but the discomfort of standing still won. He tried. Only one key fit but wouldn’t budge. The empty lobby taunted him one step away. He felt stupid looking for a way in like this, almost like begging. Maybe he should just find a place to huddle up instead, but …

He headed left on a whim. The large windows of the building to his right looked into a cafeteria. The thought was inviting, but he could see blackboards, shelves, and desks through the other windows. He figured the dorms would be a bit removed from the actual school buildings.

The next entrance he passed was a bust, too. The windows next to the one after that looked into a stairwell. Kyle tried his luck and the third key did the trick. He slipped inside to escape the cold, though the only benefit turned out to be shelter from the wind.

He put his things on the tiny staircase and got his papers out, squinting to make the letters out in the low light.

First floor. A map printed sideways. He turned it around. Where was he? On the left side. If not, he might be headed for the girl dorms. He had to be sure because that wouldn’t make a good first impression. He pressed his face up against the window and squinted. The cafeteria was opposite him so he was in the right place. Great. He headed into the stairwell and winced as the door slammed shut behind him. Its echo traveled up the stairs. His rapid footsteps followed a moment later.

First floor. From zero? There had been a tiny staircase when he stepped inside, too. Did that count?

He headed one up on a whim, went through the door there, and found a long hallway filled with doors, their signs almost imperceptible in the darkness.

It took him ten more minutes to find the room, and then he stood around like an idiot in the dark while six figures slept in beds around him.

Kyle kept perfectly still. What was he supposed to do? He thought he was in the right room. The sign had matched his papers. The floor had the right number. His key had fit the lock.

A mix-up?

Six beds. Six people.

He stared and wished he had gotten here earlier after all. He couldn’t just wander into random rooms until he found an empty bed. Any wrong move or sound could wake somebody up. Sooner or later, he would be noticed.

Slowly, he walked backward out of the room and left the door a crack open as to not touch the frame. Outside, he squatted and rummaged through his things until he found his wrinkled papers again. He double-checked, then triple-checked, then went back to the stairwell to look, and squinted at the number by the door until he was sure, but—

He ended up pacing. He was in the right place.

Back in he went.

Six guys. Two drooling in a mess of blankets with bed hair on the left, the one in the middle sleeping like it was a job to be done with care, a lump under the blanket whose hair was only visible in the back, some dumb blonde who thought he was hard because was sleeping without a blanket in the cold, and a kid who looked like he had fallen asleep while studying.

He checked their ages—and he couldn’t be sure because the fourth was hidden—but he was pretty sure the last one was the outlier. The boy looked a year or two younger than the rest.

And hadn’t he read—?

Kyle ducked out a second time and reread all his papers. His head swayed a bit as he did. He almost drifted off a few times. Then he found the line. All rooms were assigned by age groups.

Right.

Great.

Still.

What now? There was someone in his bed.

He paced up and down the hall for a bit, considered sleeping out here after all—it was better than roughing it—but he couldn’t do it. Not again. He really wanted a nice bed for once. Just once. He was finally here, he didn’t want to spend his first night at school on the cold floor right outside of his room because of a mix-up. The carpet didn’t even reach to the wall.

So he walked back in. The kid was curled up into a ball in front of two open books and some school supplies. A pen lay dangerously close to his face. He looked too young to be in a school for climbers and not like he had the temperament for it besides. Unless … Kyle thought most [Gardeners] were pacifists. Or non-combatants, anyway. Maybe that?

He hesitated, then reached down to shake the kid’s shoulder through the blanket with a gloved hand.

He murmured something in his sleep.

Kyle shook a little more, hissing quietly, “Hey. Wake up.”

He blinked and began to look up, grumbling something in his throat. ”Hn? Wha—?”

“You’re in my bed.”

He rubbed his eyes with his other arm and squinted at him. “Who?”

“My bed,” Kyle repeated. “You’re in it.”

The kid blinked one last time. Then, suddenly, he didn’t look groggy at all. Rather, he looked panicked.

Thank God, Kyle hadn’t been wrong.

“I’m so sorry—” he began.

A hand gripped his wrist in a vice and wrenched it away.

“Back off,” the dumb blonde said.

Kyle almost sucker-punched him right then, but stopped himself before his arm could do so much as twitch.

The kid was sitting up.

The blonde looked coiled up, ready to punch him.

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Kyle gestured. “I was just telling him—”

“I don’t care. Whatever it is, whoever you are, you can say it after you step—the fuck—back.”

His grip tightened until it hurt. A threat. The guy looked half-asleep and barely wore any underwear, but still looked ready to beat Kyle into a pulp if he made so much as one wrong step.

Or he looked ready to try, anyway.

Kyle would have wrenched his arm free just to show him he could, but put himself in his shoes first. Figuratively speaking. The guy was barefoot. He was the intruder here, right? Even if the other kid was apologizing, even if that was technically his bed. From their perspective.

If anything, it was great they had such comradery here after just two and a half months.

Someone groaned on the opposite side of the room. “Shut the fuck up Ryan,” came a complaint from the far left. The guy shifted and grumbled into his mattress. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Get a clue, asshat,” Ryan snapped. “We have a guest.”

Okay, maybe not comradery then.

“Yeah, I know. No more sleepovers.”

The middle left hummed something, whether in support or general grievance, he couldn’t tell.

Were they going to wake up all of them?

“Another gue—”

Kyle took a step back.

“Ryan” broke off and snapped around to stare at him. He would have raised an arm to show he meant no harm, but he suspected that might set him off. He went for a shrug instead. It wasn’t like he wanted to beat someone up first thing at school. Especially not a roommate.

The blonde scoffed and threw his arm aside. His way of letting go, he supposed. He hunched his shoulder and rubbed an eye with the butt of his hand, swaying on his feet. Half-asleep after all.

It wasn’t that he minded making enemies—even ignoring all the other shit, or maybe because of it—Kyle was a [Rogue], he knew he was going to make enemies. But he’d rather not antagonize the antagonists too much. He preferred not making his life any more difficult than it already was.

The kid was panicking to pack up his stuff. A book in his hand slipped and hit to the ground. A flutter of pages, and the humming guy in the middle sat up with a tired look on his face.

“Micah—” He started, then paused and looked at Kyle. “Who’re you?”

“Good to know you’re useless at night,” Ryan grumbled.

“Take me out to dinner first.”

“Your new roommate,” Kyle gave his answer, ignoring their banter. “Apparently.”

“Mm.” The guy gave him a look that showed what he thought of that and said, “It’s three a.m.”

He shrugged.

“In November.”

Another shrug. Better late than never, he supposed. He’d only missed the first ten weeks or so.

When it was clear he had nothing to say, the guy grunted, “Alex.”

“Kyle.”

He nudged his chin at the blonde. “Ryan.”

Right, because he definitely wasn’t going to introduce himself. He inclined his head in appreciation. Alex seemed alright to him.

But then he went ahead and added “I don’t like you, just so you know. Just based on this.”

Oh.

Before Kyle could even think of a response, Alex leaned to the side to look past him and said, “Take your time, Micah.”

“Sorry,” the kid whispered, voice full of guilt. He'd bent over to pick the book off the ground.

“No, I meant it,” Alex added as if he had been misunderstood.

“Yeah.” Ryan glared. “He can wait.”

Kyle clenched his jaw and let out a slow breath. Whatever. He just wanted to get to sleep. The sooner the better.

The kid sat back up. He seemed genuinely embarrassed, which made it hard to blame him. Especially since he was a junior. Kyle was still a little annoyed by him not being gone yet.

He frantically rummaged around under his piled-up blanket, turned it over, and pushed the cloth aside until he found a lost sock. It was only the one. He leaned forward to slip it on.

He frowned at something else—the second, crumpled-up blanket underneath him. He glanced at the dumb blonde’s bed and its conspicuous lack of one. It painted a picture. The special treatment, too, the way he had put himself between them like some kind of watchdog, the non-combatant vibe …

He took another look at the kid. Didn’t some of the old families here look like him? A lot of people here looked similar to him, especially on the east side, but in his fancy school uniform, it was easy to imagine him fitting the bill.

Madins. Right. That was their name. And their branch-houses. He must have been hanging out here for a reason. He glanced at Ryan, easy to assess. The guy was fit enough. A noble and his retainer, maybe?

Shit.

Kyle really didn’t want to have antagonized those kinds of people. They would be a pain in the ass to deal with, especially if they pried even a little.

He took another step back to give them some space. Out of sight, out of mind, he hoped. The third guy had already fallen back asleep. He hadn’t caught his name. Alex’s interest seemed to be fading.

Micah had stacked his books, collected his supplies, and patted the bed down for anything he might have forgotten. He picked up his knife and fumbled to put it back in its sheath, and—

Kyle blinked. Hm?

“Here,” Ryan said and did it for him. The blade disappeared. He buttoned the safety.

It had been lying on the bed … right next to where Kyle had been standing earlier. Right next to his leg. A quick thrust and— He hadn’t even noticed the kid’s arm shifting under the blanket.

How? When?

Then he slowly got up, one leg stiff. He put it down gingerly. Had it fallen asleep or somethijng?

Ryan stepped closer. “Do you need help?”

“No!” he quickly said. “No, I got this.” He pressed his lips together as if he was putting effort into something and pushed himself up.

Ryan sighed and leaned past him to bundle up his blanket and toss it back on his bed.

“Told you not to do that,” Micah mumbled.

If he supported himself to get past him, it had to have been an accident, Kyle figured. None of them said anything. Then he was standing on his own, but it looked shaky. He got his stuff and hobbled toward the door. In passing, he mumbled, “Sorry again. We— Uhm, I didn’t think they’d be getting a new roommate this late.”

“No problem,” he muttered, shuffling out of his way.

Ryan followed.

Somehow, he doubted they were nobles. Something about the way they spoke and moved— Not that Kyle had met many rich people in his life. He just imagined them being different.

Still, he didn’t see it. The other thing. The knife. The kid didn’t look like he could hurt a fly. Realistically speaking, he knew that was stupid. Climbers came from all walks of life. He just hadn’t seen it in his expression earlier. He’d looked like he was talking in his sleep the whole time.

He guessed … It was just wounded pride. He'd underestimated him. The kid looked as innocent as ever, as if the knife wasn't even worth a thought.

They disappeared out the door. The blonde raised a hand up every now and then as if to steady the other if he stumbled. Something was off about that, too. Was he wounded? Something hit cloth and then Ryan was cursing in the hallway. Micah chuckled.

His duffel. He must have tripped over it. Kyle headed out to get it. They chatted down the hallway.

“'Sucks I can’t stay over anymore.”

“You weren’t supposed to anyway. Always studying until you hit the bed can’t be good, you know?”

“Right. Until I hit the bed. Totally.”

“Micah.”

“It really was an accident the first time—”

The door cut them off, even with Ryan easing it shut. He caught echoed tidbits as they headed up the stairwell.

Not comradery, or maybe it was, and not noble and retainer. Friends? Classmates, definitely. Still, it made him think of something else entirely.

He headed back inside, dropped his duffel next to his bed, and slipped off enough layers to slip under the covers. The bed was already warm. It wasn’t as comfortable as it might have seemed.

Second-hand.

Ryan got back a minute later and closed the door after him, dimming the room into darkness.

“Three freaking a.m.,” Alex groaned.

Kyle sighed. He wasn’t going to be a sandbag either. “What? You think the Tower is going to let you get your beauty sleep?”

He heard Alex sit up on his bed. Ryan shambled under his covers, not paying any attention. Kyle stood—or lay—by what he’d said. After a moment, the guy lay back down, but the silence lingered.

He wanted to groan. What a great first impression that had been. He rubbed the palm of his gloved hand. But he had known he would make enemies from the start. [Woodcutter], [Fighter], [Rogue]. In that order. And something else besides.

Better sooner rather than later.