Chapter Text
The library smelled of old pages and a forced silence.
The kind of silence that could turn into a cage, but for Andrew it was a refuge.
It was exactly what he needed to calm down after finding out Drake planned to come back that weekend because he missed “spending time with his dear little brother.”
Cass was overjoyed. As soon as she heard about the visit, she started making plans for that day, even thinking about what to cook for dinner. Andrew promised he would go shopping with her the next day and help her cook. Then he asked for permission to spend some time at the library, and Cass—delighted that he was studying even on vacation—agreed without objection.
He pushed the glass doors harder than necessary and walked straight to his usual corner: the back fiction section, where the tall shelves created lonely aisles that almost no one ever stepped into. It was perfect. Quiet, secluded, his.
Except today, someone else was there.
A boy about his age was slumped over the table where Andrew usually sat, his head buried in his arms. He clutched an old, worn canvas bag against his chest. His messy brown hair and wrinkled clothes completed the picture.
He was asleep, but not at peace. His body looked ready to spring, like a cornered animal. Andrew recognized that tension immediately—the same one that clung to him every time he closed his eyes.
He stopped by the table, weighing his options. Sure, he could move to another section; the library was big. But this was his spot, the only place he had managed to claim as his own for months. And that stranger had no right to take it away.
He grabbed a book at random and dropped it onto the table with a loud thud.
At the noise, the boy jerked upright with a start, yanking his bag and leaping from the chair. His eyes were wide, but little by little he calmed down as he took in the place and the person responsible for the sound. His breathing slowed until his gaze finally locked on Andrew.
“You’re sitting in my spot,” Andrew said flatly, without the slightest hint of apology for nearly giving him a panic attack.
The boy held his gaze a moment longer, erasing any trace of fear from his eyes. In its place was a carefully neutral expression that didn’t fit the face of a kid his age.
“I didn’t know seats in public libraries could be claimed,” he finally replied. His voice carried a faint accent Andrew couldn’t place. Then he sat back down, keeping his bag close, as if he might have to run at any moment.
Andrew sat as well, not looking away from him. There was something odd about this boy, something beyond the wrinkled clothes or messy hair. He had the same constant alertness Andrew recognized every morning in the mirror: the certainty that the world could turn against you at any moment.
“They can’t,” he admitted at last. “But I come here every day. This is always my spot.”
“And why should that matter to me?”
The question cut sharper than expected. Andrew raised an eyebrow slightly. Interesting. Most kids would have left by now.
“It shouldn’t,” he said. “Fine. Stay. But don’t bother me. I don’t like talking. Don’t ask me anything. I won’t answer. Stay quiet and we’ll be fine, alright?”
He opened the book he had taken. It turned out to be Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. He pretended to be interested in the first pages.
“Alright. I wasn’t planning on starting a conversation anyway,” the boy replied, pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt before resting his head on his arms again—probably thinking of going back to sleep.
Andrew ignored him, focusing on his reading.
Two hours passed in a silence that wasn’t comfortable, but not unbearable either. A tacit pact of shared solitude. Until, suddenly, the boy stood, grabbed his things, and left without drawing anyone’s attention.
Andrew stayed a little longer, maybe half an hour, before leaving too.
When he got home, Cass greeted him with a radiant smile and they ate dinner peacefully. Andrew offered to wash the dishes and then went up to his room. He showered, changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth, and finally lay down.
Before sleep, the thought returned: this would be one of his last calm nights before Drake came back. The mere memory made him shudder with disgust.
He forced his mind away from that and instead thought about the boy in the library. About how he had tried to look confident but was really always on guard. Just like him.
And maybe that was why Andrew still remembered him: because it was like looking into a mirror.
And because, somehow—though he didn’t yet understand why—he had the feeling he would see him again.