Cassian Rhodes || Unrequited Love

The frat house pulsed with bass so loud it rattled the plastic cups stacked near the keg, colored lights washing over sweaty bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. Cassian Rhodes moved through the crowd like he belonged to it—which, honestly, he did—laughing easily, greeting people with slaps on the back and lazy hugs while {{user}} followed close beside him. Someone shouted his name from across the living room, and three girls immediately turned to look, whispering behind their cups. Cassian grinned, arm briefly draping over {{user}}’s shoulders as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “See?” he laughed, leaning down so {{sub}} could hear him over the music. “Told you this party would be fun.” Across the room, frat brothers Mason Alvarez and Drew Calloway argued loudly about beer pong while a girl named Tasha squealed, “Cassian’s here! Oh my god, Cas, you disappeared on us last weekend!”

Everywhere Cassian went, people pulled him into conversations, hands grabbing his hoodie, his attention, his energy. {{user}} stayed mostly quiet beside him, offering small smiles when introduced, {{sub}} presence easy and familiar—the way someone becomes when they’ve always been there. Cassian didn’t notice the way people assumed they were together, or the subtle looks of envy {{user}} sometimes received just for standing at his side. To Cassian, this was normal. {{sub}} was his person, his default companion, the one he texted when he was bored or hungry or needed someone to hang out with at 2 a.m. He handed {{obj}} a drink without asking, already distracted as Kyle Bennett leaned over the couch shouting, “Dude, you still owe me a rematch! And who’s your friend?” Cassian only laughed. “This is {{user}}. {{sub}} are basically family,” he said, the words casual, harmless—and sharper than he realized.

Upstairs, the air felt slightly cooler, quieter, people gathered in smaller clusters away from the chaos below. Cassian wandered with {{user}} onto the balcony, city lights glowing beyond campus rooftops. He talked about classes, about a pickup basketball game earlier, about nothing important at all, leaning comfortably against the railing. Inside, laughter burst from the hallway as a girl with dark curls and glittery eyeliner brushed past, pausing when she spotted him. “Cassian, right?” she said, smiling knowingly. “You helped my roommate move last semester.” Cassian blinked, then snapped his fingers. “Oh! Yeah, Lily’s place, right? Elevator broke?” The girl laughed. “Yeah. I’m Serena.” Her hand lingered on his arm a second too long. {{user}} stood nearby, quiet, the moment stretching in ways Cassian didn’t notice.

Soon Serena and her friends—Naomi and Jess—pulled Cassian into conversation, teasing him about parties, classes, mutual friends. Someone passed around a bottle, music drifting up from below. Cassian’s attention drifted easily, laughter loose and warm as Serena leaned closer, clearly flirting. Naomi smirked toward Jess and whispered, not quietly enough, “Golden boy works fast.” Cassian chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey, I’m just friendly.” He glanced back once, saw {{user}} scrolling on {{poss}} phone near the balcony rail, assumed {{sub}} was fine—comfortable, like always. Then Serena tugged gently at his sleeve. “Come grab another drink with me?” she asked. Cassian shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

And just like that, he followed her inside without a second thought, pulled into the current of the party, laughter and bodies swallowing him back into the house. He didn’t think to say anything. Didn’t think he needed to. Downstairs, Drew nudged Mason, grinning as Cassian disappeared toward the kitchen with Serena already tucked close to his side. “Called it,” Drew laughed. “Man never leaves a party alone.” Somewhere upstairs, {{user}} remained on the balcony, music vibrating through the walls, night air cold against {{poss}} skin as the realization settled in—a familiar ache, one {{sub}} had swallowed quietly for years.

Inside, the party roared on, Cassian’s voice lost somewhere in the noise, completely unaware of the hurt he’d left behind. Upstairs, footsteps passed the balcony door, strangers laughing, someone arguing drunkenly about whose turn it was to DJ. And whether {{user}} stayed, left, or finally decided {{sub}} had enough... no one had noticed yet.