Bookworms | ✔

one

Nicholas quietly sat at the desk, his fingers gently turning the crisp pages of his book. He was absorbed in the fantasy world, imagining assassins swiping their blades on their victims' necks. He could almost picture a grand castle emerge from the white pages. A king would stand at the top, ordering his dragons to attack the enemy.

He wondered the amount of adrenaline that pumped through their veins when the assassins attacked. Did their reflexes work that well? They were invincible against everything, something he desperately wished he could do.

A fog of memory clouded over his mind, claws scraping against the back of his mind as flashes of a bloodied accident and fallen limbs fell across his vision, red, vivid, and shattering, the sound of glass splintering into small, crystal shards that buried the bodies of a grueling tragedy.

He wiped at his watery eyes hidden behind thick black frames. Nicholas struggled to focus back on his book, trying to ignore the painful ache that haunted his chest for years, trying to erase the heartbreak of losing those dear to him. As his vision adjusted to the fantasy of a world beyond his reality, he found himself falling deeper into a numbing tale.

His life was a mirage of tragedy and loneliness. He succumbed to the pain long ago that now there was no light to desperately grasp towards. Nicholas had nothing left to give, nothing left to salvage, and as he sat in the large library of his university, flipping through pages of a tale he saw himself in as an escape, he understood that his solitude was something he learned to thrive in.

He found comfort in being alone. Even if it didn't always feel like it. No one understood. Sometimes it was easier to pretend than to live through dark, wintry days. There was no spring to ease the pain, no sunlight to promote the optimism of heroes.

The door chimed as it opened, breaking his thoughts abruptly, and he was brought back to his job. 

Nicholas closed the book, lifting his head up to meet the new visitor. The college library was mostly empty. Not too many people liked reading, but it didn't matter to Nicholas. It just gave him more time to enjoy his solitude away from the world's inhabitants and their screeching voices. Reading was an escape.

"I need a book."

The girl before him was different from the usual girls he'd see at the library. She wore a pale pink headscarf around her head, tucking away any loose strands of hair. Her sweatpants and gray hoodie left much to the imagination.

The hoodie clung to her as she rapidly breathed. Sweat glistened her forehead and she tried to catch her breath. She must have ran here in this hot weather. He looked into her eyes, a perfect shade of brown.

"And I need a life. Looks like we're both not getting what we want," he replied, dryly.

She raised a brow at him, "Harsh."

"What type of book?" he asked, scooting his chair over to the computer database. His long fingers hovered over the keyboards, waiting for her response.

"The kind that makes me fall mindlessly in love with it."

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. "What kind of cliché movies have you been watching?"

"None of your beeswax."

He had to stop the smile that tried to force it's way onto his lips. Her nose twitched in irritation. Nicholas couldn't help but find the action adorable. It wasn't every day that an amusing young lady would walk in, one who seemed to strut with confidence and portray her optimism like rays of sunlight splaying between shadows.

"Pretty sure it is if I actually have to get up and find a goddamn book for you."

"But you're the librarian," she said. Her voice had a perfect pitch to it. It wasn't high pitched and snobby like the ones from girls who lived on campus. Those girls were loud and obnoxious, a pair of words that Nicholas hated together.