Sebastian's POV
—
Ray Lin has always been… loud. Bright. Annoying. Impossible to ignore.
Until now.
Now she's silent. Not literally—God forbid—but silent to me. She's talking to Austin, to Ava, even to that freshman who breathes like he's fighting for his life during every meal. But me? She hasn't looked at me once.
Not even a side glance.
Not even a "Seb, do you think I should get a pink glittery stapler or the blue one with pom-poms?"
Not even "Seb, can I borrow your notes, your pen, your soul?"
Not even her usual "Seb! You're here! My favorite grumpy statue!"
Just. Nothing.
She walked into class today wearing a ridiculous lilac hoodie with a duck on it. She sat between Austin and Ava like I wasn't even there. When I dropped my pen, she used to dive under the desk like a Mission Impossible agent. Today? Austin picked it up for me.
And she laughed.
At something Austin said.
She threw her head back and laughed like I hadn't been sitting two feet away, memorizing the sound of that exact laugh for two goddamn months.
She passed me her usual over-sweetened coffee. Marshmallows. Whipped cream. Sprinkles. Chocolate drizzle.
She didn't say a word.
She always says something. "I put extra caramel 'cause you looked like death this morning!" or "Don't thank me, just name your firstborn after me!" or "I stirred it with love—and a glitter straw!"
Today? Just… placed it on my desk and kept talking to Ava.
I didn't even drink it.
It felt like swallowing guilt.
Austin nudged me. "What'd you do?"
"I don't know."
He raised an eyebrow. "You always do."
I didn't respond. Because maybe I did know.
Maybe I smiled. At the wrong girl.
And maybe Ray saw it.
The worst part? That smile—
It wasn't real.
It was for diplomacy. For good PR. For the Chancellor's daughter, who wouldn't shut up about some debate team I was supposed to care about.
But Ray doesn't know that.
Ray, who calls me Seb when no one else dares.
Ray, who clings to me like I'm gravity.
Ray, who was so obviously in love with me…
Ray, who now refuses to even acknowledge I exist.
I hated it.
I hated how quiet it made my world. How loud everything else felt except her.
I hated how her laughter—when it wasn't directed at me—felt like static.
I didn't like this version of her.
Because she felt gone.
And I wanted her back.
Even if it meant letting her trip into my life again, arms flailing, words flying, emotions pouring out like confetti.
Because Ray Lin ignoring me?
That was the worst silence I'd ever known.