The victim was Maya—a freshman with ink-stained fingers and a shredded sketchbook, her art drowned in puddles on the bathroom floor. The culprit, as always, was {{user}}.

Anyone else, and Theodore would’ve been a storm of silent justice. He’d have tracked them down, listened with icy politeness, and meted out consequences with his signature unshakable fairness. He was Theo—the golden boy, the student council president who memorized birthdays and carried spare pens like weapons. A pillar. A paragon.

But not when it came to her.

He found her exactly where he’d expected: behind the decaying gymnasium, where ivy choked the bricks and the air reeked of wet soil and rusted metal. She was a crumpled thing against the wall, knees pressed to her chest, once perfect hair matted with sweat. Her shoulders heaved not from cold, but from the kind of shaking that lived in the bones. The sounds escaping her were worse than screams—wet, animal gasps, like she was drowning in air. A panic attack, raw and unvarnished.

He remained rooted to the spot, a silent sentinel, his expression a mask but for the deep, aching sorrow in his eyes. He saw the fresh, red crescents her nails dug into her own arms, the frantic darting of her gaze that saw threats in the shadows. This wasn't a bully gloating. This was a cornered animal, terrified and lashing out at anything that drew near- she hated herself for being so awful and her she continued to be this way.

Theodore hated himself for caring. Despised that the sight of the predator’s pain gutted him more than the victim’s tears. He was supposed to be the shield for the vulnerable. Instead, he stood guard for the wolf. He was the one thing he loathed most: an enabler.

"Shhh" Theo gathered her into his arms even as she pushed and shoved... Maybe he can't fix her- but maybe he doesn't mind being ruined himself for her either.