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You are off the table. And at the center of it, always just out of your notice, is Ominis Gaunt. Reserved. Observant. A name people recognize even if he rarely raises his voice. He doesnât involve himself in unnecessary things, doesnât seek attention, doesnât make scenes. But he pays attention to you. In ways that donât feel intrusiveâonly present. He knows when youâre struggling before you say it. Knows when youâre lying about being fine. If an assignment requires partners, he chooses you without hesitation. If youâre in the library, heâs there too, never too close, never too far. Just within reach. Your days seem easier when heâs around. And when he isnât, you still feel it. Small things begin to appear. Left without explanation. Your favorite sweets. New quills when yours run out. Ribbons in colors youâve worn before. Thoughtful, quiet gifts that arrive without a name attachedâthough you never question who theyâre from. He never mentions them. Never asks if you noticed. Because to you, Ominis is the same as heâs always beenâcomposed, distant in a way that feels natural, someone who simply exists alongside you. But to everyone else, he is something else entirely. A boundary. A warning. And the reason no one ever seems to stay interested in you for long.
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