the librarian ❆ kagehina

everything seems to come, but never goes.

the snow has drained into the gutters along the sidewalks, running away from the sudden spur of springlike warmth mother nature was chasing it with. the trees were skeletons, bearing nothing but the remnants of water droplets and a few crisped leaves shriveled under the chill of the air. tobio walked along a less populated sidewalk, one that carved a backroad path behind the quad, so he could have silence for some time. he hasn't felt so alone since his middle school days, when he'd been the least liked by everyone he knew; now, with no friends and a family too far away to escape to, he was stuck in a junk food wrapper hell of a dorm room and a frigid college campus with nothing left to do except study and go on lonely walks.
he tugged the scarf around his neck a bit tighter with his icy digits, an insouciant glare shedding nothing but irritation on the thawing grounds around him. everything was damp and cold, and with every step he was emerging deeper into the colorless world that only worsened his will to feel warm again.

shōyō would make me feel warm, tobio thinks. he always knew how.

it's a constant thought in his mind, and he's reached the point that even a numbskull like him knows why. he's shoved it down in every possible way in order to hold himself to a higher standard, one that would protect him from getting hurt. getting hurt is one of his two fears, and he's already living the first- he's all alone.
ever since middle school, he'd worked himself to the bone trying to improve. he grew kinder, gentler, more considerate, anything to gloss himself over as a sweet boy rather than the monster that treated everyone with no respect. he'd made himself a new reputation, and with it, he'd made himself a better person at his core. he felt proud of that, because everyone always says people don't change, but look at him- he was as bad as they come, yet managed to prove everyone wrong. he changed. he's good- well, he thought we was. but now it's as clear to him as the puddles of melted snow laying sad upon the wintry grass that he is no better than he was when he was 13. he's hurt someone, and in turn, he's hurt himself.

tobio has always been a lover. he's loved things so intensely for so long, sometimes for the better and for the worse. like books- they're his most prized possessions, yet, they deprive him of sleep most days. that is often for the worst. his grandfather, too- that was always for the better, though. tobio's grandfather was the kindest man, and tobio's recreation of himself was modeled on the best traits of the old man; his generousity, his wisdom, and most importantly, his ability to love unconditionally. he'd always loved, but never as deeply as his grandfather. now tobio feels as though the man would be disappointed in his grandson as he looks down upon him the way he is now, reverted to his old ways. tobio hates to think that.

"i'm sorry, grandpa," tobio croaked, his voice still scratchy from yet another sleepless night.

the boy wants to change, and thought he had, but he now knows he merely put on a mask. he's hid himself forever, and now, under the indecisively gray sky, he's made the choice to take it off for the only person who needs him to.
tobio only hopes that his grandfather would love him even after he treated shōyō with such reckless abandon, and if he'd forgive him for making such an asinine mistake. he also wonders what his grandpa would tell him to say to shōyō, now that he's realized what made him push the boy away.

as tobio neared the end of the path, a quick change of pace ensued. he ventured off across the frozen dirt towards his dorm, where he planned to collect a book that's overdue on its return to the library, one he'd checked out a while back on one of the days when shōyō wasn't there. he hasn't had the heart to return it since he walked out on him.

the ground was cold, and the sky was gray, and he knows he cannot hide anymore.