WANTED A FLING BUT IT'S A NIGHT

Trigger Warnings This story contains themes and scenes that may be sensitive for some readers, including: Emotional trauma Parental neglect and rejection (especially related to queerness) Fear of abandonment Alcohol use Mentions of past cheating and heartbreak Mild s****l content Anxiety and sleeping difficulties due to past trauma Homophobia (verbal and implied) Reader discretion is advised. Please take care of your heart while reading. 🖤 CHAPTER ONE The door creaked open, slow and uncertain, just like Asher’s first steps into the room. The light from the corridor bled into the small dorm space, casting soft gold on the floor tiles and the empty bed across from his. His chest tightened. Quiet. Too quiet. Zayn wasn’t here yet. He stepped in, dragging his box behind him, its wheels grating softly against the floor. The air smelled faintly like new paint and detergent—sterile, nothing like home. He dropped his duffel bag, stood still for a moment, and looked around. Two beds. Two desks. Two wardrobes. White curtains. Blank walls. One heart beating faster than it should. Asher exhaled. “Okay. You’re fine. It’s just school.” The silence disagreed. A sudden BANG! The door burst open again. “Asher, baby boy!” Asher flinched. Then laughed. “Zayn.” Zayn bounded into the room like he owned the whole dormitory block. Sunglasses on his forehead, earphones tangled around his neck, wearing a bright yellow hoodie that screamed trouble. “You’re late!” Zayn said, pulling him into a dramatic hug. “You were supposed to come yesterday. I thought you bailed on me.” “I had stuff to sort at home,” Asher mumbled into his chest. “Mom cried. Twice.” Zayn smirked, pulling back to look at him. “Classic. You look like someone who hasn’t seen sunlight in days. Have you eaten?” “Barely.” “That’s a crime. A party’s the cure.” Asher groaned. “No, no. I literally just got here. I haven’t even unpacked.” Zayn was already digging through his own wardrobe. “Nope. You’re coming. It’s the freshers’ welcome party tonight. Free drinks. Music. People. You need to meet people.” “Zayn…” “Asher.” Zayn turned, serious now. “Look. You’ve lived in your head too long. You said this year was gonna be different. So start here. Start tonight.” Asher sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his temples. “Fine. But one drink. And I’m not dancing.” Zayn grinned. “That’s what they all say.” They got to the party an hour later. The house off-campus was already heaving with sound—music loud enough to make the windows tremble. Bodies pressed together in heat and rhythm. Colorful lights splashed across the walls like neon waves. Asher stood awkwardly near the entrance, holding a red cup like it was foreign. Zayn nudged him. “Chill. Loosen up. Try the punch. Don’t ask what’s in it.” “I’m not sure I should—” “I’ll be around. Probably. Might vanish. Don’t panic.” “What do you mean?” Zayn winked. “I mean, I might not sleep in the room tonight. Depends on how the night goes.” Asher blinked. “Wait—Zayn, you know I—” “I know, I know. You don’t sleep alone. If I’m not coming back, I’ll text. Promise.” Then he was gone. Swallowed into the crowd. Asher took a sip of the punch. Sweet. Then bitter. His head already spun a little. He tried to dance. Someone offered him another drink. He accepted. The lights blurred. The music pulsed through his spine. Then— A scream. A sudden scream near the kitchen. People scattered. Laughter followed. "RAT! THERE’S A RAT!" Someone jumped onto a chair. Cups spilled. A bottle shattered. Asher stumbled backward, his drink sloshing down his wrist. And in the chaos, just as he turned to move— He crashed into someone. Hard. Tall. Solid. Cool skin. Black shirt clinging to muscle. Asher blinked up. Eyes like frost. “Watch it,” the guy said flatly. “I—I’m sorry.” The guy didn’t move immediately. He looked at Asher like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Then he tilted his head. “Freshman?” Asher nodded slowly. The guy sighed. “You here with someone?”