Sanders Sides One-shots

Remember (OTP - Logicality)

Ship: OTP Logicality

TW: Swearing

Okay, once again, I am so sorry for the really, really, really late update. But it's like the 'exam block' at my school, so the next 3-4 weeks are just loaded with assignments, tests, etc. and everything's been chaos and I've been losing sleep, and time, and oh my god everything's a mess.

So I thought, to settle things down, I'd make a fluff chapter. God, I need it. I hope it helps any of y'all out of there as well, if you're having a shitty week or whatever.

I said I'd be experimenting with a different writing style this time, which is also why it took so long. This writing style isn't too different, it's just more imagery based. So yeah.

Note is at the bottom.

The books surrounded the young boy as if protecting him; their tall shelves imposing upon anyone who dared to come near. His glasses were illuminated and shrouded by the last beams of sunlight, but his eyes were clear and bright as they scanned the words on the page. An oasis of knowledge pooled within his mind and he drew from it to quench his thirst for answers, not unlike that of a man deprived of water. Supple fingers glided towards the bottom corner, turning the page only to be enraptured by the story unfolding before his eyes all over again.

He clutched onto the hardcover, tensing up as adrenaline rushed through him. For a moment, he thought that the protagonist in the story must have been feeling similarly so.

Eyes so desperately trained on the pages, he became lost in the world of fiction; characters, plotlines, plot twists all colluding together to form a single masterpiece that would become embedded in his mind.

A pencil laid abandoned by his side, fingers too eager to turn pages to care about it. What had initially been planned to be a period of inspired writing had shifted to that of finishing the book that had been burning a hole in his bag for weeks.

Once his eyes left the last word, an awestruck breath heaved out of him. The book shut with a gentle snap. He held the book in his hands as if it valued more than his existence. Though, in that moment, he wasn't quite sure that was an exaggeration.

His attention was drawn back towards the pencil and the blank notebook, both of which stared at him as if saddened by their lack of use.

"If only I could write something remotely as good as this," he whispered longingly as his fingers danced gently on the novel.

His gaze was dragged towards the sound of the door clicking shut. His stupedified eyes clashed with hazel ones that were clouded over with a sheen of fresh tears. Widening simultaneously, the two pairs of eyes looked away.

He heard the sound of what he assumed to be a strangled sniff, and felt his fingers twitch as they subconsciously guided themselves into his pocket. He withdrew a packet of tissues, pulling one out and folding it meticulously.

He coughed in a way that was equally fake and equally real, and did his best to offer it nonchalantly. "Here."

The soft material was lightly tugged out from between his fingers before a raspy, breathy voice reached his ears. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." He muttered, mind racing. Never before had he felt obligated to assist someone so willingly. He felt as though it were a waste of time and effort to show kindness to anyone who would not provide him any source of merit. So why was it that there was an insistent nagging lurking at the back of his mind that drew himself to the boy in front of him?

"Medieval books?" The aforementioned boy spoke up, his voice having reached a somewhat normal state.

Their eyes met again, and he could have sworn something sparked. To be able to tell if it was their connection or the glint in the boy's eyes was a completely different story though.