âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Fuck, this boy is pretty.
Adam's expression doesn't change, but time seems frozen for a moment, him standing over the petite boy, the kid smiling up at him like some damn puppy. His hand in Adam's is soft and smooth, and Adam wonders briefly if this kid has ever done any rough work in his life - Adam knows his palm by contrast is more lined, not rough by any means but definitely indicative of more labour at his hand.
"Tory. Tory Han." He notes that the kid - sorry, Tory - didn't use Victor, like Colton did. Maybe he prefers the nickname to Victor, though Adam can't imagine why, because Victor is a good, solid name. Unlike this waif of a boy, in whose direction Adam is almost scared to breathe too hard in, in case he blows him out the damn window. On that thought, maybe Tory is better for him after all.
"Yeah, I already settled in. Hope you don't mind," he responds gruffly, following Tory out into the main area of the room. "If it ruffles your feathers a lot we could swap over."
Adam drops into his chair at his desk, still rubbing his hair every which way with the towel, watching Tory as he unpacks. He's almost girly, Adam notes, eyes tracking the boy's gentle movements, taking in his soft hair, his pouty lips, his slender fingers... Shaking himself away from those thoughts - bordering into dangerous territory there, buddy, we like girls, remember - Adam turns back to his table, fidgeting with a few knick-knacks he'd set out earlier.
"What are you majoring in?" The question catches him off guard, but he supposes he should have seen that coming, given that it's a common question posed to anyone meeting for the first time in university.
"Astronomy and astrophysics, with a minor in classical humanities." He sits back, allowing a brief streak of smugness to cross his face. Lots of people don't think Adam is worth much, at first sight - Adam, who looks like he has more muscles than brains, who spends his time either singing with his band or partying, who puts his hands on girls more often than he curls them around a pen, but they're all wrong about him, because he's this side of brilliant, really, and their jaws always drop when the words fall from his lips - yes, that's right, I'm actually worth something, I have the brains and the looks, take a shot at me if you can.
"Let me guess, you're a photography major?"