Chapter Text
Police sirens are the first thing Arek hears when he locks eyes with Mustache Guy.
He should be at home, up to his ears in Hegel, or at least preparing cheat sheets for tomorrow’s exam. Instead, Arek is sprinting down some half-lit alley, hoping and praying that the pigs don’t get their piggy hands on Mustache Guy. They've barely had a chance to say hello to each other, damn it!
Turns out, Mustache Guy's name is Robert. He’s stern and quiet, which is not Arek’s type at all. But there’s something about those measured responses and probing looks that instantly makes Arek want to impress. In the moment, the only way he knows how is mischief.
“Troubled youth, huh? You should be helping me, then.”
The bottle flies out of his hand and smashes against the bridge with a bright, satisfying tinkle.