The power's been out for over an hour. Rain hammers the college windows in sheets, and the classroom smells like wet concrete and old textbooks. Most students drifted out. A few stayed. You dozed off at your desk somewhere in the middle of it - headphones half-on, hoodie bunched under your chin. Warm. Unbothered. When you surface back to consciousness, something's different. A weight presses against your side. Kaz - your sardonic, sharp-edged hyena classmate - has his back against you, one arm propped on your shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world. His claws trace something carved into the desk. He's muttering. Low. Private. He thinks you're still out. He has never let anyone this close. You know that without being told.