Disclaimer: I do not own the Teen Titans.

History of Visual Arts, room 308. 12:00 pm.

Garfield stared at the door before him with a mix of confusion and panic. Where the hell was this lecture hall? With his map crushed in one hand and phone clutched in the other, he turned on his heel and began jogging back down the hallway. He glanced from the door numbers to his phone- 11:53, cutting it close- and counted under his breath as he passed; "304, 305, 306, 307… 310." No 308 to be found. Or 309, for that matter.

Desperate now, Garfield ran to the other end of the hall and threw open the doors, his eyes searching for anything, or anyone, that could help him. The doors opened into a large courtyard dotted by tables and large, empty pedestals for future student work to be displayed. There wasn't a soul to be found. Groaning loudly, he quickened his pace- 11:55, oh God- and ran through the grass, rounding a corner towards the front of the building. Unfortunately, he didn't see the petite figure ahead of him until it was too late.

An attempted dodge turned into a clipped shoulder as Garfield rushed past her, sending them both to the ground amidst a flurry of scattered papers. Immediately, he scrambled to his feet, stammering apologies as he began to gather her papers.

"I-I'm so sorry- I didn't see you I swear-" 11:57, all hope is lost, "-You wouldn't happen to know where 308 is, would you?" He managed, finally picking up the last paper as she rose. Straightening up, Garfield extended the papers to her, his next comment catching in his throat as her glare fell upon him.

Her lips moved as if she was responding, but her words fell on deaf ears. Garfield was too busy focusing on her eyes and their strange shade of brown-violet. His attention shifted to the small patch of red between them, a small imperfection on her otherwise smooth, pale skin. He couldn't explain what about her captivated him, but she was unlike anyone he'd ever seen. Another movement of her lips finally caught his attention, but this time, her volume seemed louder.

"… Huh?" He blinked back into focus, shaking his head once to bring himself back. This earned him a darker glare.

"I said, 308 is across the courtyard. Moron," she growled, snatching her papers from his outstretched hand. Garfield did not have time to dwell on her tone as a rush of adrenaline hit him.

11:59.

"Thank you!" He blurted, a grin spreading across his face as he rushed past her, sprinting across the courtyard. There wasn't a second to spare.

12:06.

Garfield sat towards the back of the lecture hall, in the very center of his row, fiddling with his pen as he eyed his classmates ahead of him. For the size of the dark hall the class seemed miniscule. A pair of chattering friends sat in the front row, and behind them Gar counted eleven others, including himself. The groaning of the heavy door and a sudden flood of light pulled him from his fiddling, and he looked over his shoulder to see two figures enter. The first wore loud heels, her steps echoing as she approached the front.

"Thank you for your patience, class. Shall we get started?" She called, wasting no time as she unpacked her laptop and set up the projector. Garfield deflated as the slideshow lit up the screen. A full lecture, on day one? Just as he began to breathe a sigh, a rustling from behind him caught his ear. Looking over his shoulder once more, Gar spotted figure number two fiddling with a notebook in the very last row.

"… Little late gettin' in?" He mused, his mouth pulling into a grin. She raised her eyes to his, which were surprisingly just as piercing in the dark.

"If you have any sense of self-preservation, you'll turn back around."

Garfield did, slowly, and his grin diminished as he settled back into his seat. He couldn't really blame her for being unhappy with him; in his rush he hadn't even asked if she was okay after the fall. Did that really necessitate passive aggressive threats though?

The lecture seemed to drag for the entire 90 minutes, and by the first 30 minute mark Garfield was at risk of dozing off. Professor Atlan was by no means an unenthusiastic lecturer, but he had resorted to tallying how many times she uttered "um" to stay awake.

At tally 127, class was dismissed.

Belongings gathered, Garfield gathered his resolve, stood, and turned to his newest acquaintance in the back row to find an empty chair. He glanced around the room with a frown, brows furrowing. How was he supposed to apologize if he couldn't find her? He hadn't even learned her name.

"Class, don't forget to sign the attendance sheet in the back before leaving."

Jackpot. Garfield brightened and immediately scrambled from his row to the very back, hopping ahead of a few classmates to crowd the paper before new names were added. Jennifer, Tom, Patrick… Raven. Raven Roth. Written in smooth, even letters. That seemed entirely appropriate for the small, dark-haired girl that had slipped away so suddenly. After scribbling down his own name, Garfield left the hall with a grin and a spring in his step.

Once a fair distance away from the art building, Garfield slowed to a stop, brows furrowing as a sudden realization hit him.

"If that's where 308 was… Where the hell was 309?"

I'll go ahead and blame a mix of rustiness and eagerness for how rough of a start this is- but hey, I've gotta start somewhere!

All reviews are super appreciated (questions, critiques, comments, anything, go for it!), and I hope this first bit was as enjoyable to read as it was to write. Thank you!

-Mae