Gabriel's POV
Date & Time: Saturday, August 28, 2021, 5:00 PM
Location: The Commissary (Entrance and a table near the back)
The commissary was a cavern of noise.
Gabriel was propelled through the doorway by the combined, unwanted momentum of Xavier and Ajax, feeling less like a student and more like a prisoner being led to the gallows. The vaulted ceiling amplified the clatter of hundreds of plates and the roar of a hundred conversations, and the whole place smelled overwhelmingly of greasy pizza.
'Too loud. Too bright. Everyone is staring.'
His mantra, the one Alaric had drilled into him, echoed in his skull. 'Isolation is safety.'
He knew this was a mistake.
The roar didn't just stay a roar. As they stepped onto the main floor, the sound changed. It dipped, creating a pocket of silence around them, and then rose again, different. Sharper. The sound of whispering.
He could feel the eyes on him, a physical weight. And he knew exactly what they were seeing.
In the harsh cafeteria light, the pink and silver glitter coating his dark blazer and hair wasn't just a stray sparkle.
It was a beacon.
He reflexively tried to brush a cluster of it off his sleeve, but the fine particles only smeared, catching the light like a thousand tiny, mocking lenses.
"Thank god," Ajax announced, stretching his arms over his head. "They keep the pizza oven running for move-in weekend, or we'd starve."
He clapped Gabriel on the back, a heavy, familiar gesture that made Gabriel's spine stiffen. "Dude, in this light? You're a human disco ball. No joke."
Gabriel said nothing.
"You should go say hi to the sirens," Ajax continued, oblivious to Gabriel's rigid posture. "I bet you'd match their scales. Hey, maybe you could..."
"I'm getting pizza," Ajax finally concluded, veering off toward the counter.
Xavier, ever observant, just grunted. "Coffee." He angled away, leaving Gabriel alone in the thoroughfare.
'Move. Don't be a target.'
His eyes scanned the room, bypassing the crowded central tables, searching for the darkest, most defensible position. He found it: a table in the back corner, shadowed by a stone archway.
He started toward it, and that's when he saw them.
The upperclassmen pack werewolf table.
It was impossible to mistake them. They sat with a lazy, entitled sprawl, a clear hierarchy visible even from thirty feet away. They were laughing, but the laughter choked off as one of them, a broad-shouldered guy with a thick neck, spotted Gabriel.
The werewolf nudged his friend. All four of them turned.
'There it is.'
There was no curiosity. No welcome. Just a flat, cold, undisguised hostility. The broad-shouldered one let out a sharp, derisive scoff—loud enough to carry—and pointedly turned his back, a clear, deliberate act of shunning.
'They know. Of course they know.' The rumors from Crestwood had clearly arrived before he had. 'They can probably smell the 'anomaly' on me. Or maybe,' a dark, cold part of his mind supplied, 'it's just the glitter.'
Fine. 'Hate is better than fear. It's safer.'
He reached the corner table and dropped into the chair, keeping his back to the solid wall. He'd just started to let the noise of the room wash back over him when a tray clattered onto the table.
Xavier sat opposite him, a steaming mug of black coffee in his hand. A second later, Ajax slammed his own tray down, loaded with three slices of pizza, and slid into the chair beside Gabriel, effectively flanking him.
Gabriel just stared at them. They had to have seen the glares. They weren't stupid.
'Why are they still sitting here? They can see the stares. They can feel the tension. They should be leaving.'
This was... not the plan.
Xavier took a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze drifting over the room before landing back on Gabriel. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was laced with a dry, knowing irony. "You're popular."
The subtext was as loud as Ajax. 'I see every single person in this room staring at you. This confirms the rumors are widespread. How are you handling this?'
Gabriel's eyes flickered to the werewolf table. "They're not fans." The words were clipped, a wall meant to stop any follow-up questions. 'I see them. I know they hate me. This is what I expected. This is why I wanted to be alone.'
"Who's not fans?" Ajax mumbled around a massive bite of pepperoni. "Pizza? Everyone loves pizza."
Xavier ignored him, his analytical gaze fixed on Gabriel. "So, those are your people, right?" he asked, his voice quiet, nodding subtly toward the senior wolves. "They don't look happy to see you."
"They're not my people," Gabriel stated, the words coming out flat and cold.
"Good," Ajax said, swallowing. "Who needs 'em? They're probably just mad 'cause they're not freshmen anymore. More glitter for us, right, Glitter Force?"
"Don't call me that," Gabriel said, the warning a low rumble in his chest.
"Too late," Ajax grinned, completely undeterred. "It's already your official nickname. I'm making it a thing."
Gabriel looked from Ajax, who was already folding his next slice of pizza, to Xavier, who was watching him with that same unsettling, artistic curiosity.
He was in a room full of people who either hated him on sight or were whispering about him. He was a walking target, a pariah covered in the world's most cheerful armor. And these two... they just sat there. Eating. Drinking coffee. Like it was normal.
Like he was normal.
'This is what Alaric didn't prepare me for,' he thought, his jaw tight. 'He taught me how to handle the hate. He never taught me what to do when they don't hate you.'
He didn't know which was worse: the open hostility from the pack, or this... this baffling, persistent inclusion from the two people closest to him. The hostility he understood.
This, he didn't. He was still tense, still ready to bolt, but he didn't. He just sat there, trapped between an artist and an idiot, and endured.
Enid's POV
Location: Ophelia Hall, Room 312
"It. Won't. Come. Off!"
Enid scrubbed at her cheek with a makeup wipe, wincing as the skin turned an angry red. It was useless. A few defiant specks of pink glitter clung to her face, mocking her.
"Ugh!" She threw the wipe onto her dresser in defeat. "It's impossible! It's like it's bonded to me! I'm going to be 'Glitter Girl' forever!"
From the other side of the room, Yoko didn't even look up. She was sitting on her perfectly neat, dark-gray comforter, calmly lacing up a pair of platform boots that looked heavy enough to anchor a ship.
"Could be worse," she said, her voice a perfect, deadpan monotone. "You could be the 'Boogeyman' he's apparently 'boogey-manning' all over campus."
Enid's stomach did a painful little flip. She'd been in a high-speed internal spiral for the last forty-five minutes, and Yoko's comment just added rocket fuel.
'He's a boogeyman. He's a boogeyman who joked about 'death by glitter'. How can he be both? Did he trick me? Is he, like, a charming boogeyman?'
She whirled around, her hands on her hips. "I'm not—! I'm not obsessed," she huffed, her face flushing. 'Oh, who am I kidding, I'm totally obsessed.'
"I just... he was nice, Yoko. And funny!" Enid insisted, pacing the small strip of floor between their beds. "Boogeymen aren't funny. They're not! They're... boogey-ish. And he had a smile. A real one! Not a... not a 'boogeyman' smile."
Yoko finally finished with her boot and looked up. Her sunglasses, still perched on her nose despite the dim indoor light, captured Enid's reflection. "You've cataloged his smiles? You've been here three hours."
"I am NOT!" she shrieked, her voice cracking.
"I'm just saying... the evidence doesn't match! He was nice to me! He caught me when I fell! That's not 'dangerous,' that's 'polite'!"
She punctuated the declaration by flopping backward onto her giant, fuzzy, rainbow-colored quilt with a dramatic groan.
Yoko sighed, a long, weary sound that seemed to come from the depths of her immortal soul. "Uh huh. You're right. My ancient vampire instincts and the entire werewolf upperclassmen are wrong, and your 30-second glitter-based investigation is right. My mistake."
"Ugh! You're impossible!" Enid groaned, burying her face in the quilt. It smelled like lavender and sugar. "You're making me sound like a crazy person. And you're supposed to be on my side!"
'Yoko thinks I'm an idiot. She's so cool and already knows the rules, and I'm just... the 'late bloomer' who falls for the first guy who's funny to her.'
There was a soft thud as Yoko's boots hit the floor. Enid peeked out from her rainbow cocoon to see her roommate stand up, a smooth, silent motion. Yoko calmly fastened her sunglasses to the collar of her black shirt.
"Maybe he's a part-timer," Yoko shrugged, grabbing her room key. "Look, I'm starving. And my blood packs are at the commissary. Let's go see the glittery boogeyman in his natural habitat."
Enid shot up from the bed, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribs. "Wait! Now? You mean... go eat? In the commissary?"
'What if he's there? What do I do? Do I hide? Do I wave? Oh god, I can't wave at a boogeyman. That's, like, rule number one of boogeyman etiquette.'
"Wait," she said, her voice a nervous squeak.
"You... you think he'll be there? In public?"
Yoko actually smirked, a tiny, sharp quirk of her lips. "Even boogeymen have to eat, Glitter Girl. Let's go."
Yoko's POV
Location: The Commissary (Entrance and food line)
The heavy doors swung inward, unleashing the commissary's full assault. Noise – a cacophony of amplified chatter, the sharp clank of dropped silverware, bursts of laughter – washed over Yoko. Her vampire hearing, usually an asset, felt like a liability in here, picking out a dozen irritating conversations simultaneously. The air hung thick with the smell of stale grease and something vaguely... meaty. Standard cafeteria perfume.
Beside her, Enid was a tightly wound spring of pure anxiety. "Do you see him?" she stage-whispered, her voice still managing to cut through the din as she attempted a scan of the room while intensely studying the floor tiles.
'Subtlety is not her strong suit,' Yoko noted internally. The thought lacked its usual edge; it was almost... protective.
Yoko paused just inside the threshold, letting her own gaze sweep the room with practiced detachment. It was instinct – assess the terrain, clock the power dynamics. Her eyes, shielded by the requisite sunglasses, moved methodically. 'Sirens holding court by the fountain, naturally. Gorgons huddled in the corner, keeping the snakes under wraps. Senior werewolf pack claiming prime territory near the center...'
And then, her gaze locked. 'Target acquired. Back left. Glitter boy.'
He was hard to miss, even tucked away in the shadows. The pink and silver glitter still clung stubbornly to his dark uniform, catching the light like unfortunate tinsel.
"Back left. By the windows," Yoko replied evenly, grabbing a plastic tray and nudging Enid forward into the slow-moving food line.
Enid risked a quick, wide-eyed peek over
Yoko's shoulder. "Oh," she breathed, sounding vaguely disappointed. "He's... still glittery."
'An astute observation,' Yoko thought dryly. But the glitter wasn't the data point that mattered. Her focus sharpened, analyzing the tableau. 'He's not alone.'
She recognized Xavier Thorpe immediately. Hard not to, with that distinctive brooding artist vibe and the weight of the Thorpe family name practically visible around him. 'Vincent Thorpe's kid. The psychic heir.' Her eyes slid to the other figure slumped companionably beside Gabriel. Lanky, fidgeting, crowned with a truly awful green-striped beanie. '...and the loudmouth gorgon.' Her assessment was instant, based on the posture, the beanie – a dead giveaway for the species – and the general air of oblivious energy radiating from him even from across the room. 'Interesting allies. They're either brave, stupid, or completely unaware. Or all three.'
"Who's that with him?" Enid whispered, leaning closer.
Yoko ignored her, her attention drawn back to the center of the room. 'Now, where are the wolves.' She found the senior pack again, easily. And the picture clarified instantly.
It wasn't just that they weren't talking to him. It was an active, calculated performance of exclusion. The tables directly adjacent to Gabriel's remained starkly empty, creating a visible perimeter, a social exclusion zone.
The upperclassmen packs themselves – the same ones she'd overheard earlier – were angled away, their laughter a little too loud, their conversation pointedly, aggressively not directed towards that corner. One of them, the bulky one, met Yoko's gaze for a fraction of a second, his expression pure, unadulterated contempt, before pointedly turning back to his friends.
'Ah.' A cold, clinical understanding settled in Yoko's gut. 'There it is. A twenty-foot radius of pure 'not pack'.'
She could practically see the invisible fence they'd erected. 'They're treating him like he's radioactive.'
'So, the rumors are 100% true.' She mentally filed the visual confirmation alongside the overheard snippets from the hallway. 'This isn't just teenage gossip. He's a genuine pariah within his own kind. Which means he's genuine trouble.'
She reached the "VAMPS ONLY" cooler, the hum vibrating faintly through the floor. She pressed her thumb to the scanner – a brief flash of green light – and pulled out a chilled B-Negative pack. The familiar, slightly metallic scent cut through the greasy air. 'And my glitter-brained, hyper-trusting roommate,' her thoughts continued, her gaze briefly flicking to Enid, who was now staring blankly at the pizza options, 'has decided he's the cute, funny one.'
'Fantastic.' The internal word dripped sarcasm. 'This is going to be a long semester.'
She added a slice of pepperoni to her tray – camouflage – just as Enid mechanically slid a slice of plain cheese onto hers. The girl looked like she might throw up.
Yoko leaned slightly towards Enid, nodding at the pathetic slice. "You're not getting a blood pack with that?" she asked, injecting maximum vampiric disdain into her tone.
"Gross."
Enid startled, blinking rapidly. "What? Ew, Yoko, no!"
'Good. Distraction achieved. Now to navigate the minefield.'
"Suit yourself," Yoko said, placing her blood pack beside the pizza slice. "Let's find a table. Preferably one with minimal shrapnel."
Enid's POV
Location: The Commissary (Walking through the tables)
Okay. Mission objective: Secure sustenance and escape unscathed. Enid kept her eyes glued to the back of Yoko's black hoodie, focusing on the silver zipper pull like it was a lifeline. Her tray felt slippery in her sweaty palms, the single slice of cheese pizza wobbling precariously.
'Just gotta find a table,' she chanted internally. 'Any table. Far away. Don't look left. Don't look left. Definitely do NOT look left.'
But the gravitational pull of the back-left corner was intense. She could feel the empty space around Gabriel's table – Yoko's 'dead zone' – like a physical vacuum as they navigated the crowded aisles. It felt like walking past a sleeping dragon. A glittery, grumpy, possibly-a-boogeyman dragon.
'Almost past it. Almost safe.'
"Hey! It's the Glitter Force!"
The voice was loud, cheerful, and unmistakably aimed directly at them. Enid flinched, freezing instantly, her feet glued to the floor. A wave of heat rushed up her neck and exploded across her face. She could feel herself turning crimson. The ambient roar of the commissary seemed to hush, a spotlight swinging onto her.
'Glitter Force?! Oh my god, no.'
"Look, Gabriel, it's your partner in crime!" the voice boomed again.
'Partner in crime?! Is he trying to get me killed?!'
"Oh my god," Enid whispered, her voice tight with panic, eyes still fixed ahead. "He's talking to us."
"Keep walking," Yoko muttered fiercely, her fingers digging into Enid's arm. "Ignore him. Do not engage the boogeyman's fan club."
Too late. The damage was done. Like a terrible, magnetic compulsion, Enid's head turned.
The loudmouth gorgon – was grinning broadly and waving with the enthusiasm of someone greeting a long-lost friend. The dark-haired boy beside him, the one who looked intense and maybe a little broody himself, glanced up with a faintly amused smirk. And Gabriel...
Gabriel looked up, his grey eyes locking directly onto hers across the crowded room.
The world went momentarily silent. The clatter, the chatter, the smell of pizza – it all faded into a dull background hum. There was just the fifteen feet of charged air between them, and his unwavering, unreadable gaze.
He wasn't glaring, exactly, but he wasn't smiling either. He just... looked. Surprised, maybe? Annoyed? Impossible to tell. And yes, definitely still glittery. A stray piece sparkled near his temple.
'He's looking right at me! Oh god oh god Yoko is right here he's looking at me the rumors are true but he's also cute and his friends are talking to me I have to do something—'
Her hand flew up before she could stop it, executing a tiny, jerky wave that felt utterly humiliating the second she did it.
'—that was stupid! Why did I wave?! WHY?!'
Gabriel's expression didn't change, but after a beat that stretched for an eternity, he gave a single, stiff nod. Just a curt dip of his chin.
Acknowledgment? Dismissal? An invitation to spontaneously combust from embarrassment?
"Move!" Yoko hissed, giving Enid a sharp tug that nearly sent her pizza slice flying.
Enid stumbled forward, letting Yoko practically drag her away. As they retreated, she vaguely heard Gorgon's dry voice murmur something about "partner in crime" and Gabriel snapping back, "Shut up, Ajax."
They finally reached an empty table near the far wall, collapsing into the chairs. Enid risked a peek back. Ajax was laughing. Xavier was sketching something. Gabriel was pointedly staring down at the table, his jaw tight.
And then she saw them. The senior werewolf table.
A cold shiver, completely unrelated to the room's temperature, traced its way down her spine. They weren't just looking at Gabriel anymore. They were looking at her. Their expressions ranged from amusement to open disdain.
'Oh great. Just great.' Enid slumped in her chair, staring miserably at her congealing pizza. 'Now they all know. The boogeyman's glittery partner and the 'late bloomer' werewolf who can't even walk across a room without causing a scene. Perfect first day.'
Gabriel's POV
Location: Caliban Hall, Room 209
Gabriel pushed the door to Room 209 open and stepped inside, the relative quiet a blessed relief after the sensory assault of the commissary. 'Finally. Out of that room.' He immediately shrugged off his indigo blazer, holding it at arm's length. The pink and silver glitter seemed even more offensive under the dorm room lights, clinging to the dark fabric like a fungal infection.
Xavier followed him in, wordlessly crossing to his side of the room. He sat on the edge of his bed, flipping open the large sketchpad Gabriel had noticed earlier. The faint scratch of charcoal pencil against paper filled the silence.
Then Ajax appeared in the doorway, still radiating pizza-fueled energy. Instead of heading back to his own room across the hall, he ambled inside and promptly flopped face-down onto Xavier's bed with a dramatic groan. Xavier shot him an annoyed look over the top of his sketchpad but didn't say anything.
"Best. Pizza. Ever," Ajax mumbled into Xavier's comforter. He rolled onto his back, propping his head up on his hands. "So, 'Glitter Force'—"
"Don't," Gabriel cut him off sharply, his voice tight. He held up the blazer, turning it to inspect the damage. It was hopeless.
Ajax ignored the warning tone. "What? Your 'partner in crime' seemed nice." He grinned.
"She's like a... like a puppy that exploded in a paint factory."
'Glitter Force. Partner in crime.' Gabriel clenched his jaw. 'He's an idiot. A loud, oblivious idiot.'
"You terrorized her, Ajax," Xavier murmured, his eyes fixed on his drawing, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Gabriel started trying to brush the glitter off the blazer sleeve again, a futile, frustrating gesture. The tiny particles just seemed to embed themselves deeper into the fabric.
Xavier glanced up from his sketchpad, his observant gaze landing on Gabriel. "She's the one from the Quad, I assume."
It wasn't really a question. It was a statement of fact, delivered neutrally. 'I'm connecting the dots,' the tone implied. 'The glitter. Your reaction in the commissary. Her reaction. This is the girl who cracked your shell this afternoon.'
Gabriel didn't respond. He just kept brushing at the relentless glitter, focusing intently on the impossible task. He could feel Xavier watching him.
After a moment of silence, punctuated only by the charcoal's scratch and Ajax humming contentedly, Xavier looked up again. A small, knowing smirk played on his lips.
"So," Xavier said, his voice soft but carrying deliberate weight. "'A clumsy encounter'."
The callback hit Gabriel squarely. His own words from earlier that afternoon, describing the glitter explosion in the Quad. He stopped brushing, the sparkly blazer hanging limply from his hand.
He thought about the commissary. The stares. The open hostility from the senior pack. And Xavier and Ajax just... sitting there. Eating pizza. Like none of it mattered. Like he was just another student.
'They didn't leave.' The realization echoed, unsettling him more than the glares had.
And then she had appeared. Enid. Looking like a startled rainbow, face flushed bright red when Ajax shouted those ridiculous nicknames. Terrified. Mortified.
'But she still waved.'
Even after he'd been abrupt with her in the Quad, even with everyone staring, even with her friend trying to pull her away, she had offered that small, spastic wave.
'She's... not scared.' At least, not of him, not in the way people usually were. She was flustered, awkward, maybe intimidated by the situation, but the reaction wasn't fear. It was... something else.
Gabriel finally lowered the blazer, letting out a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"...She's memorable."
The word hung in the air, quiet but definitive. His own assessment from earlier, now re-evaluated and confirmed. 'Catastrophically, inconveniently memorable.'