the librarian ❆ kagehina

every good story comes full circle.

     shōyō was starting to like the feeling of the apple apron hugging his waist again. it wasn't too tight or unsettling- it just felt safe. it felt normal again.
     the clouds parted for a ray of sunshine, and shōyō smiled at this first sign of light he'd seen in a while; it was reassuring to him. it proved that even the world was moving along beside him. he cherished the warmth spilling through the sunroof as he sat cross-legged on the floor by the front door, unlocking the returns box and watching the books spill out. as he began to sort through them methodically, he recognized where he was sitting as the spot where him and tobio first really spoke, during that early december rainstorm. shōyō gazed up at the doors tobio had sauntered through in his big coat, and he couldn't help but smile at the memory. he looked cute that day, shōyō mused.
     as fate always has it, though, things tend to end where they began, and will then begin again.
     shōyō was startled out of his daydream about the blueberry boy when the devil himself tumbled through the door, a dumb grin plastered on his pink, breathless face.

     "hi." it was small, but it was a start- shōyō was a bit embarrassed to have been so fast to move past his grudge. he's never liked being so easy.

     "hi," the taller boy huffed out, a dreamy look on his face. he took notice of how the employee was sprawled, and how it was so similar a sight to when they first became friends. tobio has a vague moment where he remembers thinking he found the boy's calculated mess so adorable- almost as adorable as his gentle grin.

     "need something? why are you out of breath?"

     "i ran here."

     "for what?"

     "because i need to make up for lost time!" tobio answered as if it was so obvious, evoking a joking scoff from his little best friend. he plunked down on the uncomfortable carpet and started to sort books into their established piles, blushing like the idiot he's always been.

     shōyō admired his recklessness, especially at a time like this. he could never barge in and just live the way tobio does- ignoring the awkward silence, smiling without fear of coming on too strong, being friendly despite their colossal feelings for each other. he was like a teenage boy again, just existing in the moment, because what else could he do?

     "you know, i've been thinking about what you told me."

     tobio's hopeful eyes snapped up to meet the librarian's, and suddenly he fell to a more solemn silence. "yeah?"

     "listen, tobio. i'm not the person to jump into something without fear. i can't just live without anticipating a consequence. i need to know that you understand how i feel, how this isn't just some fling we can forget about in a week," shōyō states curtly, "i have to know you mean it when you say you feel the way i do. i've done relationships before, and i know how they end. i don't want to love you only to lose you,"

     no wonder he works in a library, tobio smiles to himself, he's always been so much better with words than me.

     with a deep breath, tobio said, "i know i kind of threw this all on you. if i had taken the time, maybe it could've been smoother. i could have been easier on you. but i guess if it was meant to happen that way, it would have. if i'm being honest, i'm terrified. i'm so fucking terrified, shō," tobio babbled with wild eyes, his smile growing ever larger as he felt himself just falling deeper and deeper. he realized more and more how badly he's wanted to say these things out loud as they fell from his mouth so unapologetically. "love is scary, and i've never felt it like this before, which is like... double scary. but i've never meant anything more than when i tell you that- well, that i'm in love with you."

     "you know, if you feel it so strongly, i would've expected you to have known all along. you really are an idiot." shōyō scooted closer, shoving a couple books out of the way with his palm as he practically crawled across the floor towards the boy he'd stared at for so many precious moments. he felt it welling, low and deep in his stomach- it was warm, and it was anxious, and it was growing.

     shōyō has never liked moving fast, or doing things without a plan. that's why he likes stories- it's a low-risk, high-reward system. you take your time, you learn something, and you finish smarter and better than when you started. but this... everything about it is unknown. he is inching ever closer to a hyperventilating college student who cannot stop staring at the animal look in his sparkling eyes, and he feels himself getting hooked on the adrenaline tobio's been running on for some time now, and he knows that he's been living too safe. everything he wants is right there, clutching a returned textbook about physics in his quivering hands, and shōyō now realizes that tobio didn't move too fast, but he had moved too slow. he'd waited too long, and now he wants to stop waiting.

     "you know, you're kinda hot when you get all excited like this," tobio mumbles boldly as shōyō leaned forward on the palms of his hands like a cat, perching himself eye to eye with the boy he'd called his best friend up until this very moment.

     "oh, shut up, already."

     tobio dropped the book and met him in the middle, and the single ray of sunlight shifted in the sky to shed some light on their hasted union. shōyō's heart was beating and tobio's throat was dry, but still they stayed, because despite all the miscommunication they'd suffered, this was what it was all for; this was stupid, incendiary, and as inexplicably pointless as young love could get, but it was theirs.
     there's no way to know if they're going to crash and burn, or if this is the happy ending, but there's just something about not knowing that makes it so worth the risk- and if they've learned anything from the books on those library shelves, it's that they wouldn't have the future be unwritten any other way.

     it's ironic how stories mimic life. from their ups and downs, wins and losses, and even their loves and hates, they retell our stories word for word without even trying to. books are pieces of us, preserved and cherished for their best parts; they romanticize life. so, it's only fitting that two bookworms fall for each other in a library, let alone create a novel-worthy love story all by themselves, don't you think?