the librarian ❆ kagehina

forgive and forget does not hold true, but understanding and learning does.

     his feet were cemented to the shaggy carpet below as he lifted his head so very slow, peeking through thick patches of orange ringlets with a heated fear growing exponentially inside his eyes. not here, not now, not today, shōyō thought, despite how he promised himself he could handle something like this. he just never thought it'd be so soon.
     the taller student cleared his throat, his hands visibly shaking as they fiddled around the spine of the story. as he waddled closer, shōyō's eyes caught the colorful lettering on the side: everything, everything. a book about learning to love and overcoming fear. how ironic, he thinks- how disgustingly ironic.

     "i-" tobio began, his face flushing as his words unintentionally struggled their way through his locked jaw, "i came to... to return this."

     "i never checked this one out for you,"

     "i got it on, um- on a day you weren't working."

     "oh... okay."

     tobio couldn't help but admire the boy's little movements, seeing how he barely took up space as he swiped the scanner across the bar code plastered to the paperback and typed into the old library desktop. his fingers were nimble, thin, just like the sharp cut of his jaw and the harsh line of his collarbones that peeked through his light sweater; his hair was frizzy as usual, but somehow more dull. tobio always thought his hair was so bright it could've been glowing, but now the light had clearly gone out. his skin was dry, his shoulders were tense, and everything about him was so desperately woebegone it almost brought tobio to tears.
     he misses shōyō, and he doesn't know how to tell him.

     "okay. all done. you can go."

     "shōyō?"

     "yeah?"

     "i'm so sorry."

     his caramel eyes were melting, and he stood there as they dropped little glistening tears like pieces of candied glass, spilling over and out onto his porcelain powdered sugar cheeks; he was so sweet, so innocent, yet so cold. his rigid body stood silently, brooding, unmoving. no amount of tears would ever be enough to break him, no matter how brittle his bones feel. he won't let it happen- not in front of tobio.

     "i- i..." tobio sniffled, feeling himself start to choke, "i just, i'm sorry. i need you to hear that. i'm sorry."

     "i get it."

     tobio's hands were now trembling, and it was uncontrollable. he reached up to wipe away his own tears, and managed to miss his face entirely. he let out a strangled sob, then shut his lips tightly, embarrassed to be falling apart so easily. he'd fallen so deep that he can't get himself back out, and even after offering such a weak apology, he can't say the other half.

     "i... o-okay. okay, i'll go."

     turning on his heels, he felt the carpet crumpling beneath the soles of his old sneakers. he felt dirty, he felt wrong, and he needed to leave. as long as shōyō knew at least some of it, it would all be okay, even if he never forgave him, even if he never gave him the chance to say the rest, it would be okay-

     "wait!"

     "w-what?"

     shōyō approached the door, walking then running then stopping abruptly at the edge of tobio's sneakers, his stoic tears only making tobio cry more.

     "was the book good?"

     "...yeah. yes, it was."

     the librarian smiled, and then he reached up to wipe the water away from tobio's twisted face. his hands were so gentle and steady, and tobio felt so composure-less it was shameful.

     when shōyō backed away, tobio knew there was nothing else he could say for now, so he turned again and left. he walked out of the library, and he cried all the way to the dorms, because that was the second time he'd left, and he was not sure if it was the last.