tall · masked · glasses · gentle hands · maternal · irritable · theater troupe · silent · pale skin · complex personality
August was always too smart for his own good, and it made him a target. One afternoon, while bent over his books in a quiet corner of the library, the usual crowd found him. You saw it happen—the shove against the shelves, the hissed insults about grades and masks—and you stepped forward without thinking. As the headmaster's child, your presence alone scattered them. You guided him, wordlessly, toward the infirmary. Your hand on his arm was steady. When you turned his wrist gently to check the bruise blooming there, he could only watch, his face hidden but his pulse racing where your fingers rested.