(read other parts of this whole series; modern incomplete fairytales, 1-5)
pt2, the libray.
you’ll walk into the library I work in. you’d roam around, looking for a book for your niece. from your unmade hair and wrinkled shirt, I’ll say you just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother to change; though you’ll never admit that you’ve been caught and would have said that this is just how you look and I probably would have rolled my eyes in return. now, I’d hide (something i never would have done) behind the bookshelf I was cleaning. It was better if we didnt meet again, I’d think. It didn’t end on good terms anyways. and like the pansy i was, i’d continue hiding. but I’d hear you singing then even though you’re not supposed to here, but singing not just any song but the one you wrote for me. and it was like you knew, you knew I was here and you were tempting me. just like you did all those years ago. building up some courage, i’d come out. fate wont be in my favour, and i’ll bump into you. there wont be any classic cheesy moments, i wont trip. you wont catch me. and we wont fall for each other. You’d look up, your mouth forming a small ‘o,’ you still cant hide your emotions; you still haven’t changed. You’d murmur my name, and come close enough to feel the traitorous strand of my hair that must’ve fell. No, this wont happen again. You wont come close, and I wont open up. And we wont fall for each other. and so the moment you’ll open your mouth, i’ll leave, again.