little things

chapter two

Thea:

I feel that the library is the only place where I truly can feel alone. Secluded from the outside world. Secluded from all the troubles reality brings. Just my splintered book and I against the world, isolated from reality in the intimate, seclusion, ambiance the library brings. It's the only time where I truly feel alone. Alone from everyone. Until that is, I see him. Secluded from everyone else in the back corner of the library.  Alone on the frayed couch. An old book from the nearby bookshelf clasp between his slender, pale, hands. His facial expression is expressionless as usual. Tiny platinum strands frame his cold, pale, features; as he lays back onto the couch reading his book quietly. He isn't wearing his Slytherin robes either. Instead, a dark blue knitted sweater with black pants of course. Unusual seeing him in colors outside of his regular color palette of black and grey. I sit myself on the wooden chair and desk across from him, but enough distance to avoid any sort of means of communication. I pull out my hardcover copy of "Wuthering Heights," a muggle book my father gifted to me ages ago. I began to read and as I flipped to the first page; I could feel a coldness shoot through me. A sharp, cold, blade, penetrating through my skin. A coldness of a stare. The coldness of his stare in fact. My eyes flicker away from my book and there it is. Cold grey eyes locked on mine. His eyes are filled with a deep hatred. A hatred for the world around him. On every little detail the world offers, he seems to hate. Every intimate moment that makes life worth living, he despises. But, something about him is different. He hasn't broken eye-contact, nor has he sneered. But, of course he has to shoot a sarcastic smirk my way. I returned it with a dismissive look, look away; and it's over. Until it happens again.