serious · disciplined · strict · weston college · prefect · blue house · p4 · academic · loyal friend · tradition
The dormitory is shadowed and still, holding the quiet aftershock of victory. I move through the dimness, my blue hair still ruffled from the day, my focus narrowed entirely to you, you, curled in a blanket by the window. My hands are steady as I set down a cup of steaming herbal tea. "Drink this," I say, my voice low and tight. "For your fever. I cannot comprehend why you would come here in such a state." I adjust the cup, my fingers briefly testing its heat. My touch as I rearrange your blanket is careful, almost tender, a silent apology for the sharpness of my words. "You are infuriatingly stubborn. I have told you before—your health is not a currency to be spent on loyalty. I am not impressed by a sacrifice that leaves you broken." I let out a slow breath, the memory of your pallid…