Eternal Longing ✓

DELETED SCENE - The Library

*Please Read* A/N: Hey y'all! I hope your Christmas went well and I'm wishing you all the very very best in 2023. I've been working on several projects at once, and sorry to say Eternal Longing has kinda been on the back burner :/

But, I'm happy to say that I've gotten back to writing aaand will have the first half of the last eleven chapters coming sometime this coming week before I head back to school.

For now, I found a chapter/scene/moment that I forgot I had written and saved somewhere else. I can't fully write it back into the current storyline, but I was able to change it enough so it wouldn't spoil anything and instead act as a sort of bonus without really pushing the story forward.

Canonically, this scene should occur after the girl's trip and before Ch 49. Not sure exactly when, but yeah, hope y'all enjoy!

_____

JAYA

Because I'm a college student and that apparently means that assignments are due even when life feels confusing and is an impending headache, I find myself on Muller's own Sutton Library's second floor, sneaking a handful of chips into my mouth.

The second floor is a quiet, bleak, food-free zone that should honestly depress me with its stacks of books no one touches anymore and flickering panel lights, but alas, it is my favorite floor because at least here there is no one screaming from their lungs about how much they do not like another artist's take on the introspective reality of life or some other bullshit like that.

So instead of being a rule follower and planting myself on the first floor where I could snack away without worrying that one of the librarians might catch me, I chomp as silently as I can in a place so quiet I can hear myself think.

My laptop is open to a fresh document, the cursor mocking me as it flickers on the first line. I let it flicker ten times before dusting my hands and typing. Between the time it takes me to start writing my name, crack my brain, then give up and Google the MLA header format, five minutes elapse.

The paper is supposed to be about the impact of storytelling in art, and if I can ever get past writing the header and spitting out an intriguing enough title, I'd also have to argue whether or not I believe storytelling is an intrinsic part of an artist's work.

I stare at the cursor for a little longer as I tap my fingers on the table, glad that the only other person who could hear my tapping is wearing earbuds and not paying me a single lick of attention. That's another golden thing about the second floor-no one gives a crap about you enough to stare.

You know when you turn off your phone and promise to do work but end up staring into space anyways? I'm currently doing that dance. I itch to reach into my bag and fish out my phone to see if there are any texts or calls, but I don't. I'd inevitably start scrolling through Twitter and push the paper to tomorrow, wasting a perfectly good hour at the library.

So I tap into the little discipline I possess and keep staring at my screen, hoping that inspiration will fall down from the sky and strike me at some point. Hopefully very soon.

But instead of lighting striking down on me, my eyes drift to the dock bar at the bottom of my screen and catch the inviting red circle indicating the number of unread messages I have. Without any hesitation, discipline nowhere to be found, I bring the pointer to the top of the message app icon and click.

All three of my unread messages are from the same source, all sent within a few minutes of each other.

Finley: How's the paper coming along?