The lecture hall smelled like wet concrete and stale coffee, the kind of scent that lingered in buildings too old to be modern but too functional to be torn down. The projector buzzed overhead, flickering slightly, as a few students filtered in, slumping into their seats with the exhaustion only second-year engineering students could muster.
Angelus kept his head down as he rolled into the hall, maneuvering his wheelchair into the one spot that wasn't a logistical nightmare front row, far right. A testament of the universities amazing accessibility. It was the only place that didn't require asking someone to move or squeeze past desks that would definitely not pass him.
He had learned how to disappear in plain sight. , hood over his head, hands in the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes on his notes. He was just another student. Another second-year struggling through Fluid Mechanics.
Or at least, that's what he told himself.
The door swung open, and the usual shuffle of students quieted slightly. Angelus glanced up.
The man who walked in wasn't the professor. He looked too young, too casual—a leather jacket slung over a wrinkled button up , dark hair still damp from the rain outside, a notebook tucked under his arm. He had the kind of presence that demanded attention without trying.
He tossed the notebook onto the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms. The name scrawled across the board in sharp barely legible handwriting :
Pedro García – TA
He let the silence settle before speaking. "Alright, let's make this quick. Professor Moretti has a conference, which means you're stuck with me for the next hour." His voice was smooth, confident, tinged with an effortless charm. "Try not to cry about it."
A few chuckles. Angelus didn't react.
Pedro smirked. "Now, since I hate wasting time so, let's get straight to it. Who can tell me what the Coandă effect is?"
Silence. Students shuffled, avoiding eye contact.
Pedro sighed. "Really? First thing on the syllabus, bambini. You paid thousands in tuition for this."
More silence. Angelus knew the answer. But answering meant standing out.
Pedro's gaze flicked toward him. "You."
Angelus stiffened. "What?"
Pedro's smirk deepened. "So? What is it?"
Angelus hesitated. He could blow him off, act dumb, let someone else answer. But something in Pedro's expression...expectant, made him answer
"...It's the tendency of a fluid to follow the curvature of a surface rather than separating from it," he muttered.
Pedro snapped his fingers. "Bingo. See? Not so hard." He turned back to the board, drawing a quick sketch of airflow over a curved surface. "So why does this matter?"
Angelus exhaled through his nose. "Because it's the basis of how wings generate lift. The airflow sticks to the surface longer, creating a pressure difference."
Pedro nodded, tapping the board. "Exactly. And that's why it's fundamental to both aerodynamics and fluid dynamics." He turned, arms crossed, eyes flicking back to Angelus. "What's your name?"
Angelus hesitated. "Angelus."
Pedro tilted his head. "That's a lot of name for one person."
Angelus gave him a look. "Pedro García is much shorter, obviously." He muttered
