Untitled; It doesn't need a name to be famous.

Chapter 4 - White Hair, Maybe I Care

"Hush! You are in a library, keep it down!"

I smile as I watch two little boys run up and down their makeshift playground one of them stops and I give him a warm smile, which he returns with a gap toothed one. I leave him to play with his buddy as I walk to the front counter and make a quick beat on the table.

"Yeah, beat it up girl, no one's trying to do work or anything." Ms. Mary gives me a raised eyebrow as she slams two textbooks on the chair next to her, making me jump. 

"Well, Ms. Mary Mac, I don't see you saying anything to those young men over there." They run past us again, knocking over a stack of books in their path. 

"They don't belong to me, so I don't care what they do as long as they don't destroy my things."

I chuckle as she shuffles slowly towards the bookshelf behind her and take her time walking up each step of her step-stool. I wait patiently as she comes back down and slide her chair back in front of her computer. She flips her grey hair to the side and stared me in the eye with her icy grey ones. 

"Don't just stand there starin' at me, you better go do something productive!"

"Now, what the hell and I  gonna do that's productive? You know I'm done with my project."

She lets out a whisper laugh that shifts into a small coughing fit. "You had better be," she teases. Shifting in her chair, she lets out a long and thick yawn to accompany her stretching. "Then why are you here?"

"Can't I just wanna talk to my favorite youngster?"

She side-eyes me, which shot down my smooth talk. "Fine," I give up to recuse myself the table to the far end of the building, but not before I shout back at her; "If you need me, I'll be in my corner...OF SHAME!" I laugh as I walk away to the sound of her slamming her head on the keyboard. 

My Little Corner of Shame was quiet and secluded, just how I like it. It truly was a blocked off corner in the far right of the building. Ms. Mary's permission was all I needed to convert her small library into my own little makeshift studio. The bookshelf formed into a sort of walk-in selection of historical fiction and nonfiction, where my desk fit snugly in the middle between my 3 walls of knowledge. 

I would never call myself an introvert, but I definitely wasn't that extroverted. In fact, if it were a choice between staying inside to watch paint drying on my wall, or going to a club, I would pick dorm paint. Unless, it was with Satsuki. We'd just feed off of each other's energy the whole night. 

A little girl who had to be no older than elementary school age passes by my line of sight with her nose deep in the  phone she was holding. I scoff as she flipped her hair like the little diva she thought she was. Children like her always seems to get on my nerves, though she didn't do anything to me. But..I couldn't knock her upside her head, she's not my child. Hmm, if that didn't sound familiar...

I slide out my sketchpads, reference/model sheets, Copic markers, and Cintiq which greets me with its warm glow. I boot up Clip Studio Paint and got start with sketching the next 5 pages of my manga, Metal Steam 8. I was behind on my posting schedule big time. I haven't worked on it since last month and know I need to catch up fast! I had already received some messages asking when the next pages would come out, why there was a big cliffhanger, my characters were so deep, blah, blah, blah. But I had gotten so busy with my animation projects, I didn't have a chance to post anything. God, talk about perspective change; growing up, whenever I would read a comic and the creator would go on hiatus, I would be so pissed! Like, how hard is it to keep a schedule? But now I'm older, with a job, and in college. Oh, the potent understanding of the pain of poor planning...pumpernickel.

I open a new document, crack my knuckles, and name it, and got ready to work. With the document loading up, I push strands out of my face, look up, and start to fantasize. I have a bad habit of fantasizing at any and every possible moment. I'll start fantasizing mid conversation or while I'm reading a book or watching a movie. I just shut down completely and fantasize for as long as I can in order to keep myself excited. I begin to give into the temptation of the memorizing white wall, but pause. I can't help but stare at the guy who's standing a few feet away from me with snow white hair and shaved sided. His piercings dance up and down his left ear, but you could barely see it because he was constantly running his fingers through his hair.

Damn, I wanna fuck him. 

What?! The hell kinda first impression is that?! I force my head down towards my screen and shake that God-forsaken thought out of me. I dunno what it is about him, but, I ca't help but stare. Cute guys usually make me fluttery inside, but this dude, I-I've never felt so...helpless. 

And why is this?! I'd never talked to this dude, what's happening?!

I tense up and bite my lip as he peers over his shoulder to take a glace at me, which, obviously, I'm not gonna return! I fiddle with my pen and stare at my screen until I feel his eyes look away. I take a quick peek over my screen and see him smiling at the book he was holding, or maybe my dumb-ass, I don't know. Damn, God built him well, I think. He picks up a second book on the shelf below him and leaves, but not before I steal another quick look as he walk away. I mouth a silent goodbye as I pack up my things. 

What?! A girl can only handle so much distraction! 

I smile as I creep through the hallway, keeping an eye out for the the Snow-haired stranger. I eventually find him near the entrance, sitting next to a another guy. They were reading from the same book, holding hands. I swallow hard and tense up again. Snow Stranger kisses him on the cheek, and I feel my throat squeeze out the remaining air I had left, making me gasp. They look in my direction, but I duck out of the way before they could spot me. 

I slip out the front door with embarrassment I've never thought I'd feel. "BYE MS. MARY!" I screech over my shoulder, tripping over the steps I skip. I trudge up the stairs, bag in tow, hitting my leg, making it throb even more than it usually did. But I didn't care, it didn't matter, nothing mattered. I make it to the bottom floor and regain my composure. Forget it, it doesn't matter!

But his eyes were different colors, though...