Chapter Text
It’s a known secret that the campus was the main factor in his choice of schools.
Bastard Munchen: too dark, much too dark, it was like a giant strom cloud flew over the area permanently.
The air is calm there, and cool. Steady and slow, so, so slow. The whisper of a prayer before bed, the sigh of a scholar in thought-–That he had little complaints about.
It was more about the fact that every step is like a shush to an already quiet baby, the calm, warning hiss of a snake.
However, it was one of the best in the world education wise, so he accepted the tour.
FC Barcha, no. There, it’s too bright. Flashing lights wherever you turn. Red, yellow, blue. Even the sun was brighter, overwhelmingly so, on their campus.
Even when it was gone it’s still stabbing at your eyes, Hugo nearly went blind when visiting. The Vegas of colleges, awful fit for someone like him.
Though it wasn’t all flashy, behind the stone of the walkways, the brick of each building, there was a beat, a rhythm. Steady, but hard to track. Too much to go through for a whole four years.
Paris X Gen was just right.
He thought it wouldn’t be what he wanted at first, the university famous for its brimming with talent in all fields.
His acceptance letter was no surprise, he was considered to be in the top 1%.
The talented of the talented, the kids who spoke 6 languages, the kids who were born genetically modified to be perfect in swimming, the kids who could talk a whole room of narcissists into killing themselves.
It wasn’t the school's reputation he was focused on.
It wasn’ t the people, or the teachers.
It was the atmosphere.
The campus is the heart of that.
You could smell success in the air, it was overbearing, pressure. But the breeze was still cool. A bit faster, yes, but the sun didn’t burn so bright he wanted to hibernate.
He needed a place where he could personally grow, and he is smart enough to recognize his surrounding influences more than how many celebrities graduated there, or the size of his dorm.
His goal is not to make it to the top. He had no care for such things at the moment. In high school (back when he had a goal) he would choose by talent, what cogs and bolts would he need to rise and get what he wants.
He is indecisive for now, of where to shoot for.
Now, Hugo had settled to work at a simple coffee shop. Boring, uneventful, but hours were flexible and his manager (a crazy blonde, still in highschool, how he got promoted to such an important role is beyond him, the kid is much more assuming than he looks) doesn’t throw a fit when he does homework on company hours.
He chose to major in philosophy. Useless, sure, his parents and everyone he knew said the same. Charles, his manager, had laughed at him even.
“What do philosophy majors even do?” He’d squealed after wiping fat droplets from his eyes. Hugo couldn’t even humor him with a response. He could’ve gone into a math subject, like statistics or something. Maybe even engineering.
What’d drawn him to the major was a thought of his, a revelation he’d adopted young. Since he was a boy humans have confused poor Hugo. An alligator doesn’t try to fly, a blue jay doesn’t attempt to swim, a great white shark doesn’t have the urge to grow legs and walk.
Why do humans? Lanky, meaty, monkey descendants, dream of doing all the above? Why do humans want things they know they aren’t capable of achieving?
Sure, without those thoughts humans would never have advanced as far, but all the people who achieved great things, did because they could. Like gods among men, they recognized their talent and put it to use, no shame in that.
What rubs him the wrong way is how everyone thinks they’re extraordinary. What’s so wrong with second place? Or even third? Why deny your destiny to die chasing something impossible? His only desire all his life was to get others to realize the same.
He’s always wondered what it would be like to meet one of these man-gods in person. Would it be a shock? Would he even notice? What if he already has?
So when browsing through the online form to select his lectures, Hugo chose philosophy as one (and multivariable calculus as a backup), it’s his sophomore year, basically no friends (one is his literal boss which was sad enough), no party experience to speak of, and little idea on where to go from there, because it’s true. What do philosophy majors do?
For now he was there, behind the honey wood of a barista counter. Tucked through the modest buzz of the little shop. A block away from the campus cafeteria building, hidden behind a great oak tree. Waiting for a savior.
Maybe he could work at a coffee shop for the rest of his life. Get hired at Starbucks or something.
But that day, that wonderful day, a savior did come.
The normally calm air seemed to hum then, a holy sound,
His sharp, golden eyes. His smooth, perfect dark skin. A lean, chiseled jaw.
Hugo thought he was dreaming.
It was a Wednesday, 12:07 PM. Just before their afternoon rush.
The trees outside had just begun to revive, beautiful greens and whites, and yellows, and reds tagged along with them.
The man that walked in was all of Hugo’s dreams, all his fears, promises, and hopes. All his desires, all his sins, every good deed, every snarky comment.
He was perfect.
His smile, polite, mature, was everything an angel would envy.
Hugo was at a loss for words. The breath evaporated from his throat. His palms tensed.
The cafe was empty when the simple glass door sung with his arrival. He was glad, it was embarrassing how Hugo stopped functioning, everything paused, like the man controlled time itself.
The angel—no god’s stride was confident, powerful, easy like a predator. When he stepped close to the counter, close enough for Hugo to smell his sweet scent, a dessert most definitely, he could’ve swore his knees went weak.
He was looking down at the menu on the counter. A cutesy off white and chestnut design Charles had gotten a friend of his to make. Hugo could help but stare at the way his eyes, his piercing, gorgeous eyes clocked every line and scratch on their cheap, paper menu.
Hugo was taller, by around half a foot. Looking down at him felt wrong, he should be looking up, but oh was it divine seeing his face at any angle.
And when he finally looked up—light eyes meeting his. Fuck he couldn’t speak, he barely noticed those pretty lips moving.
And his voice, Lord, his voice, it was perfect, a hum, sigh, whisper, a prayer. He’d love to get wrapped up in it and never leave, let it take him wherever, anywhere—
“What’s your favorite?”
Hugo blinked, he shook himself mentally. It felt like waking up from a nap.
“Huh?” Hugo murmured dumbly, and he almost went to the back to shoot himself.
The shorter, (leaner too, he noticed hopefully subtlety) smiled in an amused fashion. Hugo nearly let himself kick and scream like a highschooler.
“Drink, on the menu?”
Hugo blinked again, “Oh,”
Okay, he was actually going to shoot himself, “Uh, I like the teas. The herbal ones, or the boba. Either.”
The man hummed, “Cool. Can you make me your favorite?”
Hugo nodded simply, “Yeah, sure.”
He turned at the speed of lightning and immediately went through the motions of making his favorite drink. A simple green tea, with a hint of milk and honey, occasionally he added cold foam. He nearly sweat through his shirt with the effort it took to ignore the eyes boring holes into his back.
“You’re in my philosophy class, right?”
Hugo almost jumped, he would if he were capable of such a reaction. He’s been told he was a very nonchalant looking guy. (They also said he was intimidating, but he didn’t think so.)
He could feel sweat on his forehead, he didn’t turn around, he couldn’t. The god kept him rooted to his task, diligently performing it to the best of his ability. (Idiot, what, are you trying to impress him?)
“Maybe, I don’t really pay attention to the others in my classes.”
No way he missed a beauty like this, in his class no less! He racked his brain for those eyes, that neat buzz cut, or even the grey hoodie and pajama printed sweats he donned.
Maybe he was that kid always being swarmed, he thought.
In his philosophy class there was someone who caught his attention. Yet he never caught sight of them, he was always surrounded by adoring fans. Even during lectures.
He only found it slightly annoying, since they were kind of loud when the teacher was talking. He could never hear over them, even though they are always at the opposite side of the room. But could they not take it outside? He would’ve said as much but he didn’t want to be the one kicked out.
“Oh? That’s funny, usually people recognize me.”
Hugo shrugged, back still turnt, his face flushed a bit. Of course this guy was famous, how could he not be? His beauty alone was worthy of world history books.
“I don’t really follow popularity polls either, so I guess it’s no surprise.”
He stirred the drink as he poured, watching the 2 oz. of steamed milk turn the tea from a strong, dark green, to a milkier macha color. He hesitated when adding the honey, settling for a spoonful.
Less than he’d like but he had a sweet tooth, he couldn’t be sure.
Finally he popped the plastic lid onto the cup, not before taking a bit of leftover matcha cold foam and smearing it evenly on top.
He turned, presenting the drink that felt like an offering, “Iced milk green tea, for…?”
The man smiled and took the drink, “Julian Loki. Just Loki is cool.”
Hugo watched him take a slow sip, ignoring how watching his throat bob as the drink went down made his stomach flip, “Loki,” he tasted the name, oh how perfect it fit on his tongue. He was unworthy, such a kingly name he was unworthy of even knowing.
Loki smiled at him again after letting the taste settle, and Hugo swears if he keeps doing that he won’t make it to next week. “It’s good,”
Hugo swore he wasn’t blushing, he kept his eyes neutral, “...Thank you.”
At that moment the demon decided that was the perfect time to pop out of nowhere. He cheered at the sight of the man before Hugo.
“Loki!!!”
He bounced out from wherever the hell he just was and around the counter to basically pounce on Juilian. Hugo was a bit surprised when Loki let this happen, simply adjusting his stance to hold the weight better.
“You… know each other?” He blurted before he could stop himself.
Loki hummed, "Charles is promised to our school once he graduates, for a soccer scholarship.”
Hugo blushed, Charles had been the only semblance of a friend for every year he’s attended this college and he didn’t even know that? Jeez, maybe this was why he had like no other friends.
Hugo blinked, “Oh,”
Then Loki chuckled, and behind Hugo’s eyes flashed with a house in the suburbs, three kids, and a cat.
“We have to go to that cafe off campus, on my soul, it’s literally the best place to ever exist! You’re going with me! Right?— Hugo!”
“Hmm?”
“Watch the store for me, trust I’ll let you keep the whole tip jar.” Charles turned on those puppy dog eyes, the ones that win him gladiator fights. Hugo couldn’t even say no because he was already skipping towards the door.
Not that he wanted to, this was his job.
He also ignored how he’d get the whole tip jar anyway because his coworker didn’t show up today.
Loki followed, not to any disappointment, he looked almost as beautiful from behind.
Before the door could close, Loki smiled and waved at him. If Hugo felt a rush of giddiness at that and then turned to hide his face and pretend he didn’t see it, no he didn’t.
And that was that.
—
That was that until the next day.
His philosophy class was like any other.
Not important enough to be in a room too big (but in this college every room is big), the area is 40 square meters exactly, nice and even. He liked that.
Decor considered desks lined in rows of semi circles. All pointing towards the center of the room where the professor would drone on, and on.
Most found it boring to listen to someone talk for two hours at the ripe time of 7AM. Hugo found it exhilarating, to wake up from 4 minutes of rest and be sprung into complex thinking.
Yes it was, very, annoying at times. But he liked the challenge, or maybe he’s a masochist.
Professor Rodin, a lean, clean man. His head was saved clean, a thick beard ran along the under half of his face. Despite his clear age, his skin was shockingly wrinkleless, his eyes still sharp like a hawk’s.
Mostly he left them to their own devices, he was especially fond of socratic seminars relating to various topics. Not that Hugo participated or paid attention to those, he’d mostly zone out.
Today, he was much less alert. On the lookout for the god from the day prior. He’d gotten up early accidentally, his body just woke itself up. Hugo didn’t even need a caffeinated mocha like normal, he was already buzzing with energy.
Class would start in 23.4 seconds. Still he was nowhere in sight.
Hugo sighed, of course. He would never miss a face like that, why did he get his hopes up?
The guy seemed popular, he probably met someone similar looking to Hugo once, and there was no way he was getting up stupidly early with skin like that. He must have 8 hours of sleep every night.
Then there was that familiar hum in the air. The dramatic whipping of wind like a manhwa scene.
Hugo looked to the door behind him, thumping his book against the top of his crossed thighs lazily. Nothing.
He almost turned back but was stopped at the shy creak of the wood.
In stepped him, the number one, the god among men. Their eyes met for a slither of a second before Hugo aggressively shoved his nose back into the manga.
So he was that famous guy, the one with women and men draped off his arm wherever he goes.
Today Hugo watched out of the corner of his eye who he was with, two ladies. One blonde, with scarily slicked back hair and crazy eyeliner. The other had coffee brown hair pulled into a messy bun, her eyes a little strange looking, too bright of a blue to be anything but unsettling, and a strong, squared jaw.
They all talked loudly like joking friends, “Why did you even choose this class, it's so boring dude.”
He didn’t know which one that was, but he recognized Loki’s soft laugh. His stomach burned, he could feel himself sit straighter.
“I didn’t ask you to enroll with me. We could’ve done that pottery thing with the basketball team.”
Someone sighed, the other friend probably, “Don’t mention the basketball team ever again, I don’t know how you stand those guys.”
Hugo heard Loki sigh, he sounded tired. “Whatever, I’ll catch up with you guys.”
They both squawked simultaneously, which almost made him laugh, “But we always sit here?”
“Don’t tell me you're mad about the pottery, you know you’re one of the good ones!”
Loki shook his head, “No, you guys will sit here. I have someone to catch up with.”
They seemed to protest but Loki didn’t respond anymore. Hugo kept his face glued to the pages, but he was doing anything but reading.
Because Hugo could hear those familiar efficient footsteps getting louder.
He held his breath, and his heart ramped up impossibly fast. Don’t get your hopes up but he’s definitely walking in this direction.
Two seconds until he’d reach his seat. Ten until the class starts.
At the end of the longest two seconds Hugo had ever been through, Loki stopped at his side. Still he didn’t look up, playing coy maybe.
Loki stood over him and started to pull back the chair beside his.
It was then that Hugo looked up, and he was glad he did.
He knew looking up at Loki was the only right way.
The old lightbulb above him looked like a halo, a holy light cushioning an angel descending from heaven. Hugo found himself unable to speak again. He prayed his jaw wasn’t hanging open like a dog.
Finally something popped in his throat, “Oh, uh, yeah—my bad.”
Hugo moved his bag and scooted to the side to make room.
He could feel the heat coming from Loki with how close they were. He couldn’t focus at all on what Professor Rodin was explaining. All he could do was try not to breathe too heavily, or shift too much, breaking the fragile bubble Loki seemed to have around the two of them.
Hugo noticed when Loki turned to him, but he didn’t know for what. He kept his lazy eyes trained loyally forward, ignoring the heavy gaze he was under. Then he noticed the jealous glares from the two girls Loki had entered with. He finally turned to meet Loki’s gaze to gauge his reaction.
Loki met him dead on, he smiled, and Hugo all but melted internally.
“Do you want to partner up?”
Hugo stopped himself from choking, “What?”
“For the project? The one the professor just assigned?”
Hugo blushed, this felt familiar, “Oh sure, I kind of wasn’t listening though.”
Loki laughed, a tease of a smirk on his lips, “I thought so, you need to work on that.”
Hugo huffed, puffing his chest, “Maybe you should speak clearer, you use sentence fragments a lot.”
He watched the shorter stifle a laugh with his hand, and a flower of pride bloomed through his chest.
“Is that a yes?” Loki felt impossibly close, when did they get this close? Hugo held his breath and looked away, he’d get lost in those eyes if he looked any longer.
“I suppose,” He grumbled.
This next smile was different from the rest, more teeth, one he hadn’t seen before.
“So will you give me your number, or do I have to earn it?”
—
When Hugo gets back to the lone dorm he’d somehow managed to secure for the year, he drops onto his uncomfortable twin bed.
It was no secret he quite enjoyed romance mangas and the occasional k-drama. Maybe he's a nerd, sue him.
Was this a romance story? That’s the only way he could possibly manage to get a hot guys number within two days of meeting him.
The loser x famous trope was pretty popular…
He turned his head from where he lay to look for secret cameras, maybe a string of comments like in those AI Reddit stories, as if he’d be able to find them.
Hugo gave up after a while, listening to his own breathing.
It’s kind of insane how now he was totally down bad for Julian Loki, some apparent campus legend he went a year without hearing anything about somehow.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket, holding it directly above his face. Unlocking it with one hand.
Hugo, allowed himself a sinful, pitiful moment to gaze at the new number in his contacts like it was the key to the gates of heaven.
He should really just take the win.
Hugo smiled.