the librarian ❆ kagehina

suddenly, books are not so comforting.

     the worn canvas of the rosy library apron felt foreign to his fingertips as he tied it around his thinning waist, almost like a distant memory from a forgotten childhood; it was rough and wrinkled but still fit to his figure, like it was meant to be remembered but wasn't yet.
     he did not want to be here. he wanted to be home, where natsu has extra batches of cookies for him to eat, and where he could sit in the bay window and cry without the judgement of his pretentious and entitled college peers, but he knows that the days don't stall when you wish they would.
     the library felt almost dirty to him. dust coated the shelves religiously, proving the true nature of a week without his upkeep; the carpets were just as shaggy, and the desktop still as slow, but it all felt... worse. like it didn't want him around. or maybe that was just him, making himself feel out of place.
     he knew it was coming. he could practically feel the crunching snow beneath tobio's busted combat boots as they pounded the paved sidewalk to the building, and he could hear the swish of his stiff winter coat as he swung his arms aimlessly with each purposeful step. he knew that any given moment could open those library doors to the one person he feels he cannot bear to see, and he will have to own up to his immaturity.

      the clock's ticking was louder today, louder than normal- as was the keys on the keyboard, and the wheels on the legs of the old chair. he was so aware that he could've sworn he heard the books whispering like they once had, but more paranoid, telling their little stories to cloud his mind and distract him from the impending visitor that was destined to catch him in his spider web of lies. his skin was hot with nerves, and his fingers moved starkly as they logged novels in and out of the system and restocked shelves. the library smelled of old fabric and paper, and the stuffiness made shōyō dizzy.

     the librarian wanted to cry out, to beg anyone who would listen, where is tobio? but his poor, knowing soul knew that he was only manifesting the fate that stood at the old wooden doors out front. asking would only speed him along to the pain.
     and with every wish comes a result, and that result had a very sad look on his sweet face when he entered the library with a single story in his shaking hands.

     shōyō knew it was his fault that tobio looked like this. his eyes were stormy, like the rough ocean beneath the swirl of a hurricane, unrelenting and deep; his skin was pale and chilled from the weather. his lips were a chapped and bitten pink, and his once so devil-may-care grin was now pressed thin into a slit across his handsome face. shōyō knew it was his fault, and no matter how justified he felt his actions were, nothing would ever make him believe that he wasn't wrong for hurting tobio like this.

     "hello."

     "hi."

     "i... came to return this book."

shōyō assumed shimizu must have checked this one out, because he hadn't seen the cover before. it was cream with a thick orange spiral twisting along the front, and it was called turtles all the way down.

"o-okay."

tobio followed the shorter boy to the desk and watched him silently as he checked the book back in with the faulty scanner. his heart felt tired, as of it had lungs of its own that couldn't take a deep enough breath to regain wind. he was upset, angry, disappointed- he felt alone.

"was it something i did?" tobio spoke, the words so desperate they came out more like a croak rather than a steady statement.

"not directly." shōyō could not look him in the eyes- those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

"please, shōyō," tobio near-whispered, "please talk to me."

shōyō felt his fingernails through the sleeves of his sweater, sharp and biting; his hair was in his watering eyes, and his lip was numb from biting down so hard, and he did not want to talk, but he knew it was all there was left to do. he had made the bed, and quite regretfully, he must lie in it.

"i... i'm sorry. i was selfish, and i treated you like a child. i should've known better than to ignore you. i just... i didn't know what to do,"

"about what?" tobio's hands clenched the desk counter, knuckles so white they were starting to look yellow.

shōyō wondered if telling him, after all this time, was possibly the most selfish thing he could do.

"i couldn't listen to you talk about your new boyfriend. i just couldn't, tobio."

"boyfriend? are you talking about tooru?"

"mhm."

"if you'd answered my calls, you would've found out he was an ass and we never went out again."

"oh."

tobio had a bad feeling, one that rumbled inside his churning stomach, but he continued, "what does he have to do with this?"

"really?"

"yes, really."

shōyō was trembling- with anger or sadness, it was hard to discern. he wanted to just smack tobio right across his broad cheek, render him speechless, and never talk to him again for being so naive, so clueless, so blind, so...

"you know, tobio, for a boy who loves to read, you sure are an idiot."

"what's that supposed to mean?" tobio growled, letting go of his death grip on the counter and letting his weak hands fall to his sides.

shōyō defied the feeling low in his gut that he should stay low, quiet, and keep his head down, and lifted his gaze to meet a new, more watery pair of rainy eyes. his lips were sore, and his throat was stripped, and he was afraid that if he spoke another word he'd lose his voice forever- but at this point, there's no use in worrying about such meaningless things. he is stranded and he is sorry, but he is not going to live in silence anymore.

"jesus, you idiot, i'm in love with you! i've fucking been in love with you since we first met, and you're so stupid for not seeing it, and i'm sorry i ignored you but i couldn't help it, because how was i supposed to sit idly by while you talked endlessly and went out with some guy who i wanted so badly to be me, who was everything i'm not, who had everything i wanted? maybe not telling you was wrong, and maybe not talking was childish, but jesus, tobio, being in love is the worst good thing to ever happen to me, and you didn't even notice it was happening!"

the library was silent, any noise muted under the settling bricks. the books were still, their voices shushed, and the light from the ceiling was gray and undecided. it was stuffy, uncomfortable, and the perfect place to cry.

tobio felt his chest collapse into itself, his lungs only drawing low and slow air in and out. "why... why didn't you tell me?"

"because, tobio, you were with someone else. i couldn't do that to you."

"oh."

shōyō untied the apron from behind his back and let out a guttural sigh, feeling sudden fatigue from his outburst. what followed he could not predict, but after laying his insides out for tobio to do with as he chooses, he is tired, and he cannot bring himself to fight anymore. he in underneath love's thumb, and he could care less whether or not it squashes him.

"shōyō, i-"

"tobio, please, just... save it, okay? go home, read a book or something. just... just leave it alone. i don't need to hear you reject me. i already know."

tobio's face was white as a ghost, his clouded eyes now a sickly, transparent blue. he felt his stomach lurch at the sour taste of his dry tongue inside his mouth. he swallowed nothing, and then surrendered with a hoarse, "okay."

and shōyō was left alone in the gray library, tears falling silently as he watched his love leave through the front doors.

who knew, shōyō thought, that a boy who reads could ever be so blind?