Chapter Text
How can it be too loud in the library?
Should it not be common knowledge, if not a rule, to not speak loudly in the library?
Lucas, forcing himself to read over the last paragraph of the page in the textbook over again, bites the inside of his cheek out of frustration. For a moment, his fingers hover over the keyboard, Lucas’ eyes fall from the screen, rolling his head to the side in defeat as his posture slumps, leaning forward until his head is hovering over the laptop. It’s Wednesday, which means he has only two more days after this to finish the assignment, and only a few more hours until he spirals into an utter mess and throws his computer against a very old and expensive book case across from him.
The loud shriek of a chair being dragged against the floor makes him jolt slightly, right before he clenches his eyes at the sound, the sounding worsening his already-present hangover by forcing himself to cringe intensely. After yesterday, which entailed of several excruciating hours of non-stop thesis writing, looking through highlighted notes, researching even further into topics he didn't even know he had to include because Lucas is an idiot and didn’t realize there was a second page to the assignment , and accidentally crashing into a brown-haired librarian with technicoloreyes, Lucas needed to drink. So, he opened up his cabinet last night, waved passively to Basile, Arthur, and Yann who were playing FIFA, and drank up the rest of the bottle of cheap wine that Manon brought over because anything will do .
Well, it didn’t do enough, so Lucas went back to their kitchen, ignored the boys initial calls, yanked out clumsily a bottle of tequila, stole a slice of Basile’s pizza, and went back into his room.
Now, he has a hangover.
But, hey, at least he has almost finished the paragraph he is working on. Well, almost, if he wasn’t distracted by the group of students laughing in the back of a library. How they aren’t currently being kicked out is a mystery to Lucas, but at the same time, a complete pain in the ass. He is so close to banging his head against his laptop screen, Hereditary style.
He jumps again when he feels a tap on his shoulder, and if the students around him glare at him when his chair squeaks as he moves, so fucking be it.
“Oh, sorry!” Its whispered, but Lucas can see in the man’s eyes that he is sincerely sorry and now just realizing the weight of his actions. His eyes fixate on the hovering hand that Lucas presumes was tapping his shoulder a few seconds ago before he wills himself to look back up and face the librarian again. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You just looked dazed…” He looks so timid for a second that Lucas forces himself to calm down and respond as nonchalantly as he can.
“Snnnmm, hangover and people loud.” He slurs this, laying his head on his keyboard, which inevitably lead to various unorderly letters to type themselves onto Lucas’s paper, but he decides to ignore it in favor of watching the librarians concerned eyes shift into a teasing one, w smirk coupled with his new expression.
“Hangover?”
“Rosé and tequila.”
“Uh-huh, and that’s supposed to help you with your essay?” Lucas scoffs faintly.
“It's too loud here anyways. Even if I wasn’t hungover, I wouldn’t be able to focus.” Lucas watches the librarian scrunch his forehead, and then the librarian looks off as if he has entered his headspace and isn’t present there with Lucas, only to come back with a sudden smile and wider eyes.
“Can I see your phone please?” Now it’s Lucas’ turn to scrunch his forehead.
“Huh?” He asks, confused by the sudden sentiment.
“I know a way to help you.” The librarian has his hand out in front of Lucas, who looks between it and the man’s face slightly disoriented, not knowing exactly what the man wants. However, since Lucas is tired and the man’s soft smile relaxes him, Lucas reaches over to the left of his laptop and pick up his phone, cautiously handing it to the librarian, who rolls his eyes at Lucas’s actions. Before the librarian brings the phone up closer to his face, he turns it back towards Lucas, lock screen bright and glaring. “Password?” Lucas exhales in memory.
“2121.” Lucas replies, and the man contently brings the phone up to himself, punching in the numbers with his thumb before sliding through Lucas’s phone, searching through the screen until he found what he was looking for. Then, the librarians typing again, and after a bit more scrolling, seems to have found what he is searching for. He then flips the phone around so it is facing upwards towards Lucas and brings it down to his eye-level.
The screen reveals an open Spotify page, and on it is a playlist, with a black and white drawn piano that seems to be breaking apart on the top and with the title “Eliott’s Songs For His Raccoon Friends.” Lucas looks up at the librarian.
“That you?” The librarian just beans at Lucas, crinkled eyes and teeth and all, and Lucas is too entranced by it to react properly. However, when the librarian nods, Lucas snaps out of him.
“Mhm,” he confirms.
Eliott.
Lucas doesn’t say it right now, but he can imagine that the name probably rolls smoothly off the tongue, leaves him satisfied yet charmed. To a boy he mostly commonly associates bookshelves and technicolored eyes, it makes sense.
Eliott.
“I listen to music when I need to focus, when I want to relax, ya know.”
“Right, like regular people.” Lucas counters, to which Eliott looks at him unimpressed before cracking his usual smile.
“How far have you gotten with your essay?” He asks, gesturing his head towards the open laptop that Lucas has forgotten about. Right, essay.
“Three paragraphs.”
“Hey, that isn’t that bad!”
“Of nine.”
“Oh, oof.” The librarian winces playfully, looking down at Lucas with slight sympathy, only to look back up and around the area. Lucas takes that second to admire Eliott, the way his frame is perfectly displayed in his knitted brown sweater that is perfectly tucked in his dark-grey jeans, belt displayed by the way the man is leaning back with his hands tucked in his jeans pockets. So, he’s a librarian but also has jumped straight out of a Donna Tart novel?
The fact that Lucas can even remember the name of that specific author with a hangover surprises him.
“Ahh, thanks for the playlist by the way.” Lucas says, lifting his phone up slightly as if to solidify it. Eliott chuckles.
“No problem, but seriously. It helps, music, for me personally for essay writing, or assignments in general. Well, I’ve never had difficulty writing essays anyways.”
“Must be nice..” Lucas groans, and Eliott just shakes his head playfully.
“No, it's like, we write them all the time, so it doesn’t bother me at all.” He then looks at Lucas sympathetically for a second, scanning around the area, and when they hear a sharp laugh that comes from the right side of the room, they both flinch.
“Also it’s really fucking loud.” Lucas hisses, laying his head sideways on the wooden table, looking up at a chuckling Eliott. “Stop laughing! It is.”
“No, no, I agree.” Eliott nods, looking over to wear the sound came from, probably some freshman who got too drunk or too high and has no barriers to contain his laughter. Whatever. “I should probably tell them to keep quiet.”
“Ahh, can you?” Lucas whines, looking up at Eliott with pleading eyes. However, when he meets them, Eliott’s technicolor eyes, his expression falls and he is again mesmerized by the man in front of him. Eliott, tall and grand, looking down at Lucas like an angel ready to save him, makes Lucas forget how to think for a second. Forget his assignment, forget his hangover, forget Imane’s taunting texts for starting his assignment early.
Lucas can feel the tiny gap between his lips, the small puffs of breath coming in and out as all his focus is being dedicated to Eliott and his hands, that, must to Lucas’s awareness, are coming closer to his face. Suddenly, he feels a palm cover his ear, and another sliding under his cheek, slightly raising his head as it presses against his other ear, covering them both. If he wasn’t paying so much attention to Eliott at that moment, he wouldn’t have seen Eliott’s lips exhale, opening up as his chest compresses slightly. Holy fuck.
“It’s not too loud now, right?” Eliott whispers, and for the life of Lucas, he can't respond properly, so he nods dumbly, not moving his eyes from their place on Eliott’s face.
“N-no.”
“Good.” Eliott lets out a meek smile, shyly looking into Lucas eyes. For a second, Lucas felt Eliott’s finger moves slightly against his cheek, but Eliott’s hands were gone before he can ever register them, Eliott standing up straight before immediately shoving his hands into his jean’s pockets. Its tense, and Lucas feels as if his face is burning up and his heart is going to burst from their insistent palpitations, so he tries to go for a quick cover.
“I also need caffeine.” Eliott’s eyes snap back at him when Lucas says this.
“Huh?”
“For my fatigue.” He pauses for a second. “And my hangover.” To this, Eliott chuckles again, shaking his head at Lucas’s answer before leaning a bit to focus on him.
“I can get you some, if you want.” Oh?
“Hot or iced?” Eliott raises an eyebrow.
“We have hot. Iced requires me to go to a cafe to buy you one.” When Lucas doesn't interject only jutting out his bottom lip slightly, Eliott lets out an exhale in playful disbelief. “You want me to go to a cafe just to get you coffee.”
“Yes.” It's in the most simple, childlike manner Lucas can deliver, and guessing from Eliott’s pause and no objection to be heard, he takes it as a win.
“You’re a baby.” Eliott laughs, and unless Lucas’s tired mind is playing tricks on him, he could have sworn for a second ELiott’s face looked fond. With what had happened a few seconds ago, that wouldn’t have been an unreasonable inquiry; however, if Lucas ponders too much on that, his face would burn embarrassment, his heart burst from heavy beating, and his mind explode from overuse. So, he just gives Eliott his toothiest smile.
“And?”
“How sweet do you like you coffee?” Eliott asks, smiling.
“Cream. No sugar.”
With that, Eliott turns to leave, looking over his shoulder one last time at Lucas before giving him a single wave. “Get working on your essay, Lucas Lallemant.” He remembers.
“Go get me caffeine, Eliott!” Lucas rolls his eyes, lifts his head from the table, pulls out his head phones and plugs them into the still open spotify page on his phone, clicking shuffle on the playlist.
Eliott, huh.
‘Smoking cigarettes on the roof…’