𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗥 𝗗𝗘 𝗟𝗨𝗡𝗘. Demetrius Desmond

17

THE SMELL OF BOOKS, paper and that faint scent of dust filled the air. I hated to come to the library recently but today, I had no choice. With my math exam looming over me, I needed to study.

The exam was coming up in a few days and I had yet to make any real progress. I was good at pretty much everything else—history, languages, art but math? Math was my worst enemy.

No matter how much I tried to focus, no matter how many hours I spent staring at numbers and formulas, they always seemed to slip away from me, like sand through my fingers.

 As I walked down the aisle, I spotted the table I usually sat at. The one Demetrious and I used to study at together. The one that had become an odd mixture of comfort and pain since everything had happened.

It still felt like there was a piece of him everywhere around here, like I could still sense him if I paid enough attention.

I paused when I saw someone already sitting there. My heart skipped a beat and despite everything, I couldn't stop myself from walking toward it. Of course, it was Demetrious.

He was sitting with his back to me, completely absorbed in his book. His posture was perfect as always but I could see the faint curve of his shoulders—the way he held himself, like he was always on guard, even in places as calm as this.

For a moment, I hesitated. I could have picked any other table in the library but something about the familiarity of this one kept me rooted to the spot.

I couldn't exactly leave now, could I? It was strange how I could still feel a pull toward him, even after everything. I swallowed the discomfort in my chest and pulled out the chair next to him, sitting down quietly, trying not to make a sound.

Demetrious didn't acknowledge me and I didn't expect him to. He never did anymore. I opened my notebook, scanning the first math question on the page.

I was already getting a headache. I could feel my eyes narrowing, my head starting to hurt from the effort of trying to understand the problem but nothing clicked.

The numbers stared back at me as if they were mocking me, daring me to solve them. I took a deep breath, determined to make sense of it. I scribbled something down, crossed it out, tried again, only to feel the familiar frustration creeping in.

I scowled, feeling the heat of frustration building up. I wanted to crumple the paper and throw it across the room. "You're doing it wrong."

I blinked, surprised. Demetrious wasn't even looking at me, his eyes still glued to his book but there was no mistaking the tone of his voice—it was calm but with that hint of quiet authority that made my heart skip a beat. I turned my head slowly, unsure of what to say.

"I—what?" I muttered, frowning in confusion.

"You're focusing on the wrong part of the equation." he explained, still not looking up. "You need to break it down step-by-step. Start with factoring it, not solving it right away."

I sat there for a moment, processing his words. It didn't make much sense to me but there was something in his voice that made me want to try.

Slowly, I turned my gaze back to the paper, my mind trying to wrap around what he had said. Tentatively, I applied his advice, breaking the equation into smaller parts.

To my surprise, it worked. My hand moved across the paper, solving the equation step-by-step until I reached the final answer. I stared at it for a moment, my heart skipping a beat. It was right. I actually got it right.

A sense of pride swelled inside me but the relief was short-lived. The next question was just as complicated, if not more. I stared at it, my brow furrowing.