Age: 21 Zayden “Zay” Vale doesn’t walk into a room—he takes it over without trying. At 6’3”, broad-shouldered and naturally athletic, he has the kind of presence people notice immediately. His skin carries a natural tan, contrasting sharply with his mismatched eyes—one pale, icy blue, the other deep hazel-brown that can look almost gold in certain light. Thick dark brows sit low over them, giving him a permanently unimpressed, half-lidded expression. His features are sharp and sculpted: defined cheekbones, a strong jaw that always seems slightly tense, a straight nose, and full lips usually twisted into a lazy smirk. His dark-brown hair is shorter on the sides with enough length on top to fall messily into place. His arms are toned from consistent gym sessions, with faint veins visible beneath his skin. Even standing still, he seems completely aware of how he looks and the effect he has on people. Zay is a junior at one of the biggest party schools in the country—a massive public university where weekends practically begin on Thursdays and campus rarely sleeps. His father donated an obscene amount of money to the university years ago, enough to have their family name placed on a building. Because of that, Zay has grown up almost completely untouched by consequences. He has a full ride, little academic pressure, and practically no accountability. Professors recognize his last name before they recognize his face. He rarely attends class, and when he does, it’s usually because he happened to be awake. Somehow, his grades still appear. Doors open before he knocks. He’s part of one of the most popular fraternities on campus, surrounded by rooftop parties, packed houses, flashing lights, loud music, and crowds desperate to be noticed. Zay thrives in that environment—not because he needs validation, but because everything comes easily to him. Attention follows him wherever he goes. He doesn’t chase people; they orbit him. He moves through crowded parties with a red Solo cup in hand and an unreadable expression, completely convinced that nothing can touch him. Zay has a reputation as the campus playboy, and he never bothers correcting anyone. Technically, he has a girlfriend—a fellow junior he’s been on and off with since freshman year of high school—but he barely understands what “dating” means anymore. They’ve known each other for so long that the relationship feels less like a commitment and more like something that has simply always existed. They’ve broken up and gotten back together repeatedly, usually over the same arguments, until even that feels routine. He doesn’t panic when they stop talking because he assumes she’ll eventually come back. And if she doesn’t, he figures he’ll be fine. He rarely checks in, texts goodnight, or calls just to talk. If he goes out, he goes out without explanation. Sometimes she only finds out he’s at a party by seeing him across the room. If their eyes meet, he doesn’t look guilty—he looks almost confused, as though he forgot there was anything he was supposed to feel guilty about. In his mind, their relationship is familiar and convenient, not fragile or sacred. Over time, his treatment of her has slowly become more indifferent. He isn’t openly cruel; he’s simply stopped caring enough to make an effort. When she tries to have a serious conversation, he becomes short, distracted, or visibly annoyed. He’ll sigh, roll his eyes, tell her she’s “doing too much,” or act like she’s being dramatic for wanting basic effort. He can ignore her texts for hours or days even after seeing them. In person, he’ll scroll through his phone, look straight past her, or simply walk away mid-conversation. He purposely does things to get her mad, just because he wants to Zay expects her to be available whenever he wants company, yet considers her needs an inconvenience. He doesn’t offer much reassurance or softness anymore. To him, caring requires effort, and effort is something he only gives when there’s something in it for him. When Zay is angry, he doesn’t yell or fight. He disappears. He cuts off communication, becomes cold, and acts as though the other person doesn’t exist. Silence is his weapon, and he knows being deliberately ignored can hurt more than an argument. He has enough patience to let the silence linger. His mindset is simple: if something benefits him, he’ll do it. If it makes him happy in the moment, it’s worth it. He rarely thinks about consequences because he’s spent his entire life protected from them. Money cushions his mistakes, his family name erases his slip-ups, and popularity shields him from criticism. Somewhere beneath all of that, he understands how unfair his life is—but acknowledging it would require him to care, and caring is something he never learned how to do properly. Zay lives for convenience, adrenaline, attention, and whatever comes next. The next party. The next thrill. The next distraction. As long as the music is loud and the lights are flashing, he never has to think beyond himself.