Sebastian's POV
She didn't show up with sprinkles today either.
No pink box. No obnoxious iced coffee. No muffin wrapped in cutesy napkins with glitter hearts and doodled flowers. No "Seb! You have to try this one, it's birthday cake flavored!"
No Ray.
She was in class, sure.
But not there.
She kept her head down. Took notes. Wrote in black pen. Wore black again.
She hadn't said a word to me since the hallway.
And it wasn't because she was angry.
It was because she didn't know how to look me in the eye after falling apart in front of me.
Ray Lin—the walking rainbow of this school—was embarrassed.
And I was pissed.
Not at her.
Never at her.
At them.
The girls.
The same ones who laughed too loudly yesterday. Who whispered like they were subtle and tossed words like "pick-me," "fake," "easy," "desperate" like they knew anything about the girl who smiled at janitors and shared her lunch with stray cats.
"She's so annoying," one of them said today, by the fountain.
"She literally talks to the guards like they're her friends. Who does that?"
"Please, I wouldn't be surprised if she slept with that cute young professor to get an A in his class."
"Ugh. And the way she trips on air for attention? Like, babe. Not everything is about you."
My jaw cracked.
I didn't say anything.
But I didn't need to.
I was sitting on the edge of the courtyard bench, coffee in hand, watching. Hearing. Listening.
They didn't notice me at first. Until I stood up.
And looked at them.
Not with anger.
With ice.
With the kind of still, controlled stare that tells you you're in the presence of something dangerous. The kind that makes you stop laughing, mid-sentence. Makes your pulse skip. Makes you feel like you said the wrong thing at the wrong time in front of the wrong person.
All I did was raise a brow.
And stare.
Dead. Silent.
The blonde one coughed.
The second one shifted her bag on her shoulder, mumbling something about class.
The third one—who said the professor comment—turned pale.
They all left.
Quickly.
I sat back down, sipped my coffee, and watched them go.
Good.
Let them run.
Let them feel hunted, just for a second.
Because if they ever said that kind of shit again—I wouldn't just glare.
I wouldn't be quiet.
Not when it came to Ray.
Ray, who was now at the other end of the quad, crouched by a flowerbed, talking to a damn bee like it was her friend.
Her voice was soft, barely audible. She was warning it not to land on the muddy petal.
Still wearing black. Still quieter than usual. Still folding in her colors like she didn't want to take up too much space.
But she was still here.
Still trying.
And I—
I was never letting anyone tear her down again.
She didn't need to know I was watching.
She didn't need to thank me.
I'd do it anyway.
Because someone had to protect the glitter in this world.
And it may as well be me.