Chapter Text
They had a Christmas tree made out of books.
Jason was not going to cry. He wasn't.
It was just kind of cool to see, that’s all. It was just kind of nice when the library was warm and cozy and there was a christmas tree made out of books wrapped in soft glowing yellow lights. The atmosphere was further improved by the garland with red plastic berries draped around the circulation desk and the off-white paper snowflakes hanging in the windows.
It was charming. Nothing to get emotional about. Jason had been planning to read the next few chapters of The Martian, but he suddenly wasn’t in the mood for space.
It only took him a few minutes to track down a copy of A Christmas Carol, a hard cover even. He liked the weight of it in his hand. The book felt substantial, even as he knew it would only take him a couple of hours to get through.
Jason used to go to the Park Row Branch Library all the time with his mom. When he got older, and his mom got sicker, he would go on his own. Now, he could hardly bear to step foot inside. The last time he tried, he ended up sobbing his eyes out in the bathroom, blowing his nose on 1-ply toilet paper.
He still frequented Gotham’s other library branches, but days like today were rare, when he had the time to trek out to the expansive, gorgeous Main Branch. He needed the money to ride the bus, and plenty of time to travel and to read. Jason couldn’t borrow books anymore. His bag with two books had been stolen last year, and there was no way in hell he could ever pay off that fine. No one stopped him from reading though, as long as the books stayed in the building. He’d had many a librarian gently kick him out at closing time while he tried frantically to finish his chapter.
He spent more time looking for a comfortable spot than he had hunting for the book. He never liked being somewhere with an outlet, because too many other people would be drawn to it like a moth to flame. He wanted somewhere with a wall to lean against, out of the way enough to not be tripped over or bothered, but somewhere he could still enjoy the ambiance of the holiday decorations.
He ended up about two yards away from the carefully stacked book tree, half tucked behind the study tables, and gloriously situated underneath a vent spitting warm air onto his stiff fingers.
The world was rough, and Gotham was rougher, and no one gave a shit about a street kid trying to survive, but the library wasn’t like that. Sure, it wasn’t perfect. The head librarian at the Martha Wayne Branch was really strict about him bringing in bags, and a bunch of the librarians kicked him out if he fell asleep. The Otisburg Branch was the meanest about letting anyone homeless use the bathroom, and all the branches had at least one librarian who would glare at him if he came in too disheveled. Just last week, he’d been kicked out for smelling too bad. Still, a couple days before, he’d had a librarian offer him a rice crispy treat left over from the ESL class if he ate it outside. He’d had several librarians look the other way while he dozed in a study room, or offer to set him up with a day pass for the computers.
Really, even if every librarian was a jerk, Jason would still love the library. It was a place meant to help people without demanding anything back. There was nowhere else like the library. There was nowhere else that was made just to help people for no other reason than because people who wanted to read and learn should be able to. A safety net, given freely, anyone’s for the taking. Some staff made it a friendlier sanctuary than others, but every branch he went to held comfort and safety nonetheless.
Scrooge was just starting to be an asshole to his nephew when a voice strained by a smile too wide distracted Jason.
“You look a bit young to be here by yourself, don’t you? Is your mom or dad coming?”
Jason’s head snapped up, even though the voice was too far away to be talking to him. Several feet in front of him, a kid was being scrutinized by a lady who didn’t know how to mind her own business. She wasn’t even a librarian, she was holding some kid’s hand and juggling a purse and a stack of picture books.
The kid definitely wasn’t a street kid. He looked 8 or 9 and he was sporting clean clothes, an expensive backpack, and name brand shoes. Still, he held the same tension in his shoulders that street kids do when they’re asked about being unaccompanied. Jason felt bad for him, though not bad enough to draw attention to himself.
“I’m not alone, I’m meeting my cousin,” the kid lied smoothly, vaguely gesturing with his hand in the direction of the study tables.
The woman ran her eyes over Jason and the people at the study tables- a group of teenagers quizzing each other on biology, a middle aged woman reading with headphones on, and a man typing away at a laptop. Jason didn’t know what her problem was, but it was annoying him enough that he stuck out his neck to throw the kid a bone, locking eyes with him and waving him over.
The kid didn’t miss a beat, perking up and waving back. Giving the woman a polite, “Excuse me, ma’am.” He trotted happily over to Jason. The kid sat down on the floor as if Jason had saved him a seat and started pulling out 5th grade math homework from his backpack.
Jason’s eyes flicked to the kid, to the woman who was now walking away, to the math worksheets, and then finally back to Charles Dickens. “If you’re going to sit here, you have to be quiet.”