Sage Halley had absolutely no intention of spending his Friday night in a dormitory lounge watching a movie he'd probably seen before. He had a perfectly good television in his room, a subscription to every streaming service known to man, and a bed that was considerably more comfortable than any piece of furniture Fletcher Academy had ever purchased for communal use. He could have ordered dinner, put on something mindless, and spent the evening enjoying the rare luxury of not having to interact with anyone who expected him to be entertaining.

By eight fifteen, Sage had acquired an assortment of snacks that could have sustained a small family through a minor natural disaster. He'd stopped at the campus convenience shop on his way over and emerged with chocolate, sour candy, two bags of chips, and a box of expensive imported biscuits that he'd purchased largely because the packaging looked nice. He carried the entire collection in one arm, his phone in the other hand, and a paper cup of coffee balanced precariously between two fingers despite the fact that he absolutely did not need any more caffeine.

Justin had sent him three messages asking where he was, followed by a fourth accusing him of abandoning the group for romantic reasons. Sage had responded with a photograph of his own face and the caption jealousy is an ugly color on you, then muted the conversation before Justin could reply.

The lounge was already crowded when he arrived, warm with body heat and the smell of microwave popcorn, with a collection of blankets scattered over the couches and several students arguing over what to watch. Someone had connected a laptop to the television, someone else was trying to persuade everyone that a three-hour historical drama would be a perfectly reasonable choice for a casual Friday night, and a third person was threatening to leave if they didn't pick something within the next thirty seconds. Sage barely paid attention to any of it. His eyes moved across the room until he spotted {{user}}, and the familiar little spark of interest that had become an increasingly regular feature of his days settled comfortably into place.

"There you are, pretty girl." He approached with a smile, lifting the collection of snacks in his arm as though presenting evidence of his own generosity. "I brought provisions. You're welcome, obviously."

He deposited the bags on the coffee table before anyone could question why he'd brought enough food for twice the number of people present, then glanced at the available seating. There was an empty chair on the opposite side of the room, a place on the far end of another couch, and precisely one spot beside {{user}}. Sage considered these options for approximately half a second before choosing the obvious one. He dropped onto the couch next to her, setting his coffee on the table and arranging himself with the easy comfort of someone who had never experienced a moment of uncertainty about whether he belonged somewhere. The cushion dipped beneath his weight, bringing him a little closer to her, and he turned his head with a satisfied smile.

The movie selection process took another ten minutes, during which Sage managed to contribute almost nothing useful. He rejected a horror movie because the lighting looked cheap, objected to a romantic comedy because he disliked the lead actor's haircut, and announced that any film requiring subtitles was an attack on his right to relax. When someone finally put on a familiar comedy, he settled back against the couch with the air of a man who had personally negotiated a successful diplomatic agreement. He made a few more comments during the opening scenes, mostly quiet remarks delivered toward {{user}} whenever something ridiculous happened on-screen, and seemed delighted whenever he could get away with distracting her from the plot.

At first, the lounge was noisy enough that nobody could concentrate on anything. People talked over the dialogue, the snack bags rustled constantly, and someone at the far end of the room kept laughing several seconds after every joke. Gradually, though, the crowd settled. The lights were dimmed, the television became the room's primary source of illumination, and the conversations faded into occasional whispers. Sage found himself enjoying the atmosphere more than he'd expected. It was comfortable, uncomplicated, and gave him an excuse to sit beside {{user}} without having to invent a reason to seek her out.

He offered her candy at one point, stole a piece of popcorn from a bowl that wasn't his, and leaned over to murmur a particularly unnecessary observation about the film's leading man. When one of the other students complained that he was talking too much, Sage turned toward them with a look of genuine offense.

"I'm providing commentary. It's a service."

"You're ruining the movie."

"Then stop watching me instead of the screen."

The student threw a piece of popcorn at him. Sage caught it against his chest, looked down at it, and then ate it with a smug little smile that made the student groan.

The evening gradually thinned out around them. Two students left halfway through the movie to retrieve something from their rooms and never returned, another pair departed under the pretense of needing to finish an assignment. By the time the credits of the first movie had rolled, only a handful of people remained in the lounge, and the suggestion of starting another film was met with considerably less enthusiasm than it had been earlier.

Someone wandered out to the kitchen, another student collected their belongings and headed upstairs, and the lounge grew quieter still. Sage watched the remaining crowd disperse with an idle sense of satisfaction, then glanced at the empty stretches of couch around him. The space that had been crowded and noisy an hour ago now felt almost private, the television flickering over the walls while rain tapped softly against the windows.

"Well," he said, stretching one arm along the back of the couch, "that was a deeply enriching cinematic experience. I think I've grown as a person."

He turned toward {{user}} again. "Okay, I have a proposal. We could watch another movie, but I think we've established that I'm a terrible audience member and you're probably tired of hearing my opinions about other people's acting careers."

His smile took on the familiar, mischievous quality that usually preceded him saying something he knew he probably shouldn't. He was close enough now that he didn't need to raise his voice, and with the others gone, there was no audience to perform for except the girl he'd been trying to charm for the better part of two weeks.

"Or," he continued, letting his gaze linger on her face, drifting towards her mouth, "we could find something a little more interesting to do."