Again...
What is ambition?
Careers? Money? Goals? Love..?
I don't know anymore. Survival is just my current standing.
I don't even remember the last time I held a gun nor pencil.
It was a few years since I stopped before my inevitable death.
I even thought I should just end it after I make my family happy again. Even if I couldn't see my current fiancé.
But profoundly, this girl is so annoying!
— // — // * * *
The lecture hall emptied fast, like a dam breaking. I slipped out before the tide of chatter could drag me along, my footsteps steady against the polished floor of the corridor. The noise dulled behind me, replaced by the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional slam of a locker.
I should have gone straight back to the dorms. That was the plan. Keep my head down, play the role of student, fade into background noise.
"Yo, Vincent! Wait up!"
The call came from behind. I turned, already recognizing the voice—it was that red-haired guy again. Freckles. Too much energy for a place like this. I couldn't remember his name. Honestly, I hadn't bothered to.
He jogged up to me, a grin plastered across his face. "Man, you walk like you're trying to escape something."
"Maybe I am," I said flatly.
He laughed, like I'd just told the best joke in the world. "Good one. You headed anywhere? We're grabbing food later. Ramen shop near the station. You should come."
"I'm not hungry."
He gave me a side-eye like I'd grown a second head. "Not hungry? You kidding me? You were about to pass out in lecture. Bet your brain's running on fumes."
"I'll manage."
"Yeah, yeah. You always say stuff like that." He shoved his phone into his pocket, still grinning. "You're weird, man. But I like it. Mysterious vibe, y'know?"
I didn't answer. My attention had shifted down the hallway.
There she was.
Arishu.
Moving ahead of us, her steps light, deliberate. She carried herself like time bent for her, like the air itself parted to let her through. Even with her back turned, I couldn't ignore her.
The red-haired guy followed my gaze, and his grin widened. "Ahhh. So that's it. No wonder you're in a rush."
"It's not like that," I muttered.
"Sure, sure. Whatever you say." He raised his hands in mock surrender, walking backward a few steps. "Don't keep her waiting, mystery man. Oh and! We're still having the party at the same location, same time! See ya!"
And just like that, he peeled off down another corridor, whistling as he went.
Same location, same time? I don't even remember anything in the past.
I looked forward again. Arishu hadn't slowed. She hadn't turned.
But I followed anyway.
— // — // * * *
The library was cavernous, lined with towering shelves and flooded with muted light from tall, arched windows. Dust floated in slow spirals through golden beams. The silence wasn't true silence—it was the soft symphony of pages turning, pencils scratching, a throat clearing politely in the distance.
Vincent scanned the aisles, and of course he found her.
Arishu was hard to miss. She stood before one of the taller shelves, head tilted back, her eyes fixed on a book perched too high for her reach. A ladder was bolted beside the case, its rungs gleaming faintly with use. For anyone else, the problem would have been laughably trivial.
( A/N: im terribly sorry for taking inspiration but i just loved the gist of it.have a happy life mr liu! )
But she didn't move.
Her hand clutched her notebook at her side, white-knuckled. Her stillness wasn't patience—it was the kind of frozen tension Vincent recognized all too well. The kind that came when a person wasn't staring at an object, but at something invisible stitched into memory.
He waited for a minute. Yet she continued to stare at it. Why?
It was just a book in the top shelf. It's not like she's driving more than a hundred kilometers an hour to take their own life or fall from the top of a high building, landing on his c—
Damn it!
Why did even think about it again.
He continued to wait—but she stood there frozen, her breath shallow enough that I could feel the warmth in the A/C's breeze.
Vincent crossed his arms, waiting for her to move that ladder in front of her—but she won't do it.
Annoyance burned at the edge of his patience—he also needed the book to remember his past lessons but was thoughtful to give it to her—but she is just staring like it could magically drop!
"You." My voice tinged with annoyance and blankness.
"Don't tell me you can't climb that?"
Her head turned slightly, calm eyes meeting mine. No flinch, no startle—just that unshaken composure that made me feel like I'd walked into her line of sight on purpose.
"I was waiting for it to fall," she said smoothly.
Fall? He guessed right but it pissed him off more.
I scoffed. "Magic doesn't exist. Even if Newton decides to bend the laws—that book won't fall."
Her lips quirked. "I don't care. The ladder is too tall for me to climb. I'm small."
She is only 5'6—but that isn't small.
My jaw tightened. Somehow, without talking back, I was already stepping forward, hand brushing the ladder. She didn't move, only stepped aside with that same quiet grace, as if I were playing my part in a script she'd already written.
I clicked my tongue and pulled the ladder closer, climbing two rungs before glancing down at her. "You know, most people don't stand here staring for ten minutes like the book's going to sprout legs and walk into their hands."
"Most people aren't me," she replied, her voice steady, as if that explained everything.
It didn't.
I grabbed the book and descended, pressing it into her hands harder than necessary. "Here. Try not to wait for gravity to do the job next time."
She accepted it delicately, brushing her fingers against the cover as though it were something fragile. "Thank you."
"You're unbelievable."
She tilted her head, meeting my stare. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"
"Both," I muttered.
"Then I'll take it as a compliment." Her lips quirked the faintest smile before she cracked the book open, eyes flicking across the first page like she hadn't just made me climb for her.
I folded my arms. "You could've climbed."
"You could've walked away."
I swear to god... Now I'm talking in first person when I should be narrating what happened here...
Shoo. First person perspectives aren't meant to be here.
Click
The reply came too quickly, too clean. My frown deepened. "Do you always twist words like that?"
She looked at me then, not unkindly, but sharply—as if peeling something away from me with her gaze. "I only repeat what's already there."
Something cold flickered in my chest. "Don't act like you know me."
"I don't," she said simply, closing the book. "That's why I'm asking."
He wanted to stomp away and he did. He was so annoyed to the last drop of his soul that he was ready to throw a fit to this unbelievable girl. 'I thought she was just a loner but she's a god damn Oddball!'
Vincent's stride quickened, each step a promise that he was done with this conversation. The library shelves blurred past, neat rows of spines that meant nothing to him compared to the heat still burning in his chest.
Yet before he reached the corner of the aisle, her voice drifted after him—soft, steady, almost too casual for someone who had just been dismissed.
"Oddball, huh?"
He froze mid-step. Slowly, he turned. She stood exactly where he had left her, the book tucked against her chest, her expression unreadable except for the faintest curl at the corner of her lips.
"You weren't supposed to hear that," Vincent muttered, jaw tight.
"I was," she countered, tilting her head as though it were obvious. "You said it loudly enough."
He narrowed his eyes. "Do you make it a habit to annoy every person you meet?"
"I'm not annoying. I'm a lovable person."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them—his glare locked against her calm stare. Then she stepped closer, unhurried, like the world itself would wait for her pace.
"You don't like me," she continued, her voice even. "But you noticed me."
Vincent clenched his fists at his sides. "Noticing and liking aren't the same thing."
Her eyes softened, almost pitying, though her words cut in their simplicity. "That's fine. I don't like you either."
The corner of Vincent's mouth twitched—halfway between irritation and reluctant disbelief. She brushed past him then, her shoulder grazing his as she walked toward the open tables at the center of the library.
And he stormed away to the other direction. Leaving her.