The library was quieter than usual that afternoon, the hum of the fans mixing with the rustle of turning pages and the soft scratch of pens against paper.
Pearl sat at her usual table near the window, textbooks and highlighters spread around her like a fortress of colors. She was focused, lips pressed together, scribbling notes for the upcoming biology test, determined to keep her rank, to keep her promises to herself.
But her eyes drifted.
Across the room, in a corner near the tall shelves, Sharon sat with his sketchbook, pencil moving steadily as he glanced out the window, then down at the page. His hair fell into his eyes, and every now and then, he'd push it back with a flick that made Pearl's stomach flutter before she could stop it.
She shouldn't have been staring, but she was.
As if sensing her gaze, Sharon looked up, and their eyes met across the library.
It was just a glance, but it felt louder than the quiet around them, sharp and soft at the same time. Pearl's breath caught, and she quickly looked down, pretending to highlight a line she had already highlighted twice.
A moment later, she heard footsteps, soft but certain, and when she looked up, Sharon was standing there, sketchbook hugged to his chest, looking unsure but trying not to show it.
"Can I sit?" he asked, his voice quiet, eyes searching hers.
Pearl blinked before nodding quickly, moving her books to make space. "Yeah, of course."
He sat across from her, pulling out a pen but not opening his sketchbook, drumming his fingers lightly on the cover as he glanced around, then at her.
Pearl tried to focus on her notes, but the warmth of him sitting there, the way he kept glancing up at her, made the words blur. She could feel her cheeks warming, the air around them charged with something she couldn't name.
"You're really focused," he said softly, breaking the silence.
She looked up, surprised, meeting his eyes. "Trying to be."
"You always try hard," he added, a small smile pulling at his lips.
Pearl didn't know what to say, so she shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just… want to keep my promises."
Sharon tilted his head. "To who?"
She paused, looking down at her notes, her voice softer when she replied, "To myself."
Their eyes met again, and for a moment, the library felt too small, too warm, too quiet around the thunder of their hearts.
He finally opened his sketchbook, turning it around so she could see. It was her, sitting at the window, a soft frown of concentration on her face, hair falling into her eyes as she scribbled notes, the light from the window making her look almost unreal.
"That's me," she whispered, her voice cracking with something she didn't want to admit.
"Yeah," he said, meeting her eyes, "Star."
Pearl swallowed, clutching her pen tighter, feeling like she was falling into something warm and terrifying all at once.
In that quiet library corner, surrounded by pages and scribbles, Pearl and Sharon found something unspoken taking shape between them—soft, slow, and real.
And neither of them wanted to leave.