The cafeteria buzzed with the kind of noise that Iris Blackwood had learned to tune out. The clatter of trays, the hum of gossip, the occasional burst of laughter—it all blurred into a dull backdrop as she hunched over her sketchbook. She sat in her usual corner, head down, pencil scratching against paper in swift, deliberate strokes.
Her world existed within these pages. Here, her thoughts flowed freely, unrestricted by the silence she clung to like armor. Today's sketch was a moment from memory—her brother's hand clutching a paper airplane, the horizon behind him streaked with golden light.
Iris was so immersed in her work that she didn't notice the group of students lurking nearby.
"Hey, Blackwood!"
Her pencil froze. The voice belonged to Nathan Hayes, the self-proclaimed class clown with a penchant for making others the punchline. His friends chuckled as he sauntered over, holding a carton of chocolate milk like it was a weapon.
"Still playing mute, huh? Or are you too busy doodling your weird little pictures?"
Iris's fingers tightened around her pencil. She kept her eyes on the page, willing them to move on.
But Nathan wasn't one to back down from an unresponsive target. "What's in there, huh?" he pressed, reaching for her sketchbook.
She pulled it back instinctively, but it was too late. With a swift tug, he yanked it from her hands.
"Let's see what you're hiding!" he jeered, flipping through the pages. The crowd around them grew as students craned their necks to get a glimpse.
The cafeteria's noise dimmed as Nathan's mocking laughter rang out. "What's this? Some emo art?" He held up a page, revealing a sketch of her brother. The lines were raw, the pain etched into every detail.
Iris's chest tightened. Heat prickled at her skin as whispers erupted around her.
"Is that...?"
"Wow, that's creepy."
"What a freak."
Her breath came in shallow gasps. The walls seemed to close in, the voices overlapping into a cacophony of judgment.
Before she could snatch the sketchbook back, a hand shot out, grabbing it from Nathan's grasp.
The room fell silent as Cassian Gray stepped forward, his dark eyes boring into Nathan with an intensity that made even the class clown falter.
"That's enough," Cassian said, his voice low and calm but sharp enough to cut through the tension. He flipped through the sketchbook, his expression unreadable, before closing it and handing it back to Iris.
"Don't you have something better to do?" he asked Nathan, his tone laced with quiet authority.
Nathan hesitated, his bravado crumbling under the weight of Cassian's stare. "Whatever, man. It's just a joke." He shrugged, retreating with his friends as the crowd dispersed.
Iris clutched her sketchbook to her chest, her heart pounding. Cassian lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking to her.
"You shouldn't let them get to you," he said, his voice softer now. "Your work... it's good."
Before she could react, he turned and walked away, leaving her to process the strange encounter.
As the cafeteria noise resumed, Iris opened her sketchbook and stared at the page Nathan had exposed. Her brother's face stared back at her, a reminder of everything she tried to suppress.
She closed the book with trembling hands, her mind racing. For the first time in years, someone had stepped into her silence—and she wasn't sure if she was grateful or terrified.