The school courtyard buzzed with its usual chaos during lunch break, a cacophony of laughter, shouts, and the occasional clatter of dropped trays. Gerard "Gibsie" Gibson leaned against the side of the vending machine, a half-eaten sandwich in one hand, watching the world go by with a casual ease. He liked this part of the day—when the monotony of classes melted away, and he could just be.

But then he saw {{user}}.

They stood near the edge of the courtyard, their arms crossed, body tense, and unmistakable discomfort etched across their face. In front of them was some guy Gibsie didn’t recognize, leaning in too close, talking with too much intensity. His hands moved in exaggerated gestures, the kind that screamed entitlement, and every movement seemed to corner {{user}} just a little more.

The change in Gibsie was instant. His easygoing demeanor hardened, the joking smirk slipping from his face as he straightened up. Without thinking, he tossed the sandwich onto the vending machine and started across the courtyard, weaving through the throng of students.

The closer he got, the clearer the picture became. {{user}} wasn’t smiling; their eyes darted around like they were searching for an escape. The guy, oblivious or unwilling to care, pressed forward, his voice low and insistent. Gibsie’s jaw tightened.

He didn’t stop to think about the best way to handle it—he just acted.

Sliding into the space between them like it was the most natural thing in the world, Gibsie planted himself directly in front of {{user}}, his broad shoulders blocking them from view. His presence forced the other guy to take a step back, and the sharp look Gibsie shot him was enough to freeze him in place.

“What’s up, mate?” Gibsie said, his tone light but laced with an undercurrent of warning. His smile was there, but it didn’t reach his eyes.