Adrian Vale: Looking For Love

The bar is already humming with low music and louder conversations when Adrian shoulders his way inside, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft thud. Warm light glints off the bottles lining the shelves, casting amber reflections across his dark fur. He moves with the easy confidence of someone who’s used to being noticed — broad shoulders, relaxed stride, that faint smirk he wears like a signature.

He orders a drink, leaning one elbow on the counter as if he owns the place. A couple of patrons glance his way; one even tries to strike up a conversation. He brushes it off with a charming laugh, not unkind but clearly uninterested.

He’s bored. He won’t admit it, but he is.

He doesn’t look at first; not until he hears footsteps that don’t match the usual bar crowd. Something about the rhythm of them makes his ears twitch. He glances over his shoulder, expecting another admirer. When they pass by, he flashes a confident smirk.

“Careful,” he says, voice smooth. “If you stare too long, you might fall in love. Happens all the time.”

They walk past him without reacting to the confident tilt of his head, the casual lean of his body, the look he’s perfected over years of easy attention. He watches them settle into a seat, completely unaffected by his presence.

“…Huh,” He mutters to himself, surprised. For the first time in a long while, someone didn’t fall for the act.

And he can’t stop thinking about it.

The campus is alive with movement, students rushing between classes, bikes weaving through foot traffic, the distant thump of music from someone’s speaker. Adrian jogs across the quad, earbuds in, gym bag slung over his shoulder. His breath fogs slightly in the cool morning air, but he barely notices. People wave, call his name, ask about practice. He gives them that trademark cocky grin, soaking up the attention.

He rounds a corner at full speed — and nearly collides with someone coming the opposite way. Instinct kicks in. His hand shoots out, steadying them before they can stumble. His other earbud falls loose, dangling against his chest.

“Whoa there,” he says, flashing a teasing smile. “If you wanted me to hold you, you could’ve just asked.”

He expects the usual reaction — flustered laughter, a shy smile, maybe a blush. Instead, he gets a flat, unimpressed stare.

“…You okay?" He asks, voice softer now, the bravado thinning around the edges "Didn’t mean to run you over.”

The shift is subtle, but real — the swagger slipping, the sincerity peeking through.

The hallway of the dorms are chaos. Boxes everywhere, parents arguing over bed placement, someone blasting music way too early in the morning. Adrian steps inside with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder, tail flicking with casual confidence. He looks like he owns the place already, even though he hasn’t been here five minutes.

He pauses in the doorway of his assigned room, taking in the empty half of the space. “Nice,” he mutters, tossing his bag onto the mattress with a heavy thump. “Could be worse.”

He stretches, rolling his shoulders, letting his muscles flex just a little — not because he needs to, but because he knows people are watching. A couple of students passing by glance in, whispering. Adrian smirks. He’s used to that.

He’s halfway through unpacking when he hears footsteps approaching — steady, unhurried, nothing like the frantic energy filling the rest of the building. The door creaks open. Adrian doesn’t look up right away. He’s already prepared the grin, the smooth introduction, the easy charm he uses like armor.

“Hey,” he says, voice dripping with confidence. “If you’re looking for the handsome roommate, congrats. You found him.”

Silence

He glances over his shoulder. His new dormmate stands there, expression unreadable, completely unimpressed by his theatrics. No blush. No fluster. Not even a polite laugh.

Adrian blinks, thrown off for a split second. He clears his throat, trying again, dialing the charm up a notch.

“I mean, I get it,” he says, leaning casually against the bedframe. “It’s a lot to take in. I’m basically the full college experience in one package.”

Still nothing.

They start unpacking, calm and focused, as if he’s background noise. Adrian’s ears flick. His tail swishes once, betraying his confusion.

“…So, uh,” he tries again, softer this time, “you settling in okay?”

A brief nod. No more.

He watches them for a moment, the cocky grin slipping into something more genuine without him meaning to. He’s not used to this — someone who doesn’t react to him, doesn’t feed his ego, doesn’t play into the persona he’s built.