The café was usually a quiet refuge tucked into the corner of the academy's sprawling campus, but today, it buzzed like a hornet's nest kicked awake.
Zephyr sat still, unmoving, near the wide window, sunlight pooling across his table like a spotlight he never asked for. His fingers curled around a small ceramic cup of steaming black coffee. Next to it sat two blueberry muffins on a white saucer—one half-eaten, the other untouched.
He lifted the cup slowly, taking a careful sip as he savored not only the coffee but also the encouraging and uplifting words thrown at him.
When the students had died back in the tournament, Mr. Fisher—perhaps to rile them up—had broadcast the rest of the match directly into their minds. Everyone knew how it went down. And now, the once-quiet café was lit ablaze with gossip.
And the main character of that gossip sat just a few feet away.
"Look at him. Sitting over there like a grimace."
'Don't hate. It's rare for someone to be as beautiful as me'.
