Work Text:
You sigh as you look through the stocked shelves of colorful spines for the last book on the list, your last chance. The title of the book is Demian, by Herman Hesse. You don’t have much expectations for it, as every other single book on the short list hasn’t peaked in the least your interest. It’s a classic from what you’ve heard, so it’s probably boring. You need to choose a book to write your English essay though, so you keep looking.
You find it near the bottom left corner of the shelves and with a victorious aha! retrieve it from its place even if you’re not as excited as the expression would convey. No, you’re just glad your futile search is over.
With clear disinterest you turn over the book as you read the synopsis on the back. Huddling a bunch of four other books in the crook of your arm, you’re caught off guard when you round the corner and slam into another body. Your books fall to the floor unceremoniously as a hushed string of apologies is exchanged.
You rush to gather your books from the ground but are met with another hand attempting to do the same. As if some cheap chick flick cliché, as soon as your fingers touch, both of your gazes meet. It’s electrifying, so much that you instantaneously retrieve your hand as though you’ve been burned. The kind stranger offers another shy apology as his eyes divert from yours and his large hands hurry to gather all of your books into his arms.
You’re stunned into place, your heart still beating fast after the mere brush of your fingers. The beautiful stranger with black framed glasses is smiling at you, two pair of cute dimples at each side of his face. He is so tall you look at him through your lashes in wonder.
“Here, I’m sorry.” He extends his arms with your books in them “I was really careless back there. I should probably watch out where I’m going next time.” He chuckles.
His dimples show more, his eyes crinkle, and you’re completely stupefied by his soothing voice and charming charisma. You reluctantly take the books from his arms, afraid of it being the end of your conversation. You want to hear his voice more, you could stand next to him and listen to him talk for hours. Despite your sense of loss, you give him your warmest smile.
His smile grows and for a moment his eyes focus with interest on your chest, your cheeks flush red.
“You have some very good picks right there.” He casually comments as he tries to decipher the title of one particular blue spine.
“I think I saw one of my favourites amongst them, sorry if I’m being too nosey.”
“N-no! Not at all.” You wave your hands “Which one is it? ” You quietly encourage.
“Oh, Demian by Herman Hesse, it’s excellent. Very recommended, a must read.” He answers enthusiastically.
“But I think I’ve seen you have The ones who walk away from Omelas there too. That’s a very good read, very thought provoking. Conveniently short; more so than Demian but equally as good. ” He points out. “I’d probably start with this one.”
You marvel at his expertise in books, he probably has read more than you can count, he seems to be so educated you feel insignificantly small and ignorant by his side. All you could do is listen to him, for you have no thoughts or comments of your own about literary works. You stare deep into his intelligent eyes and set your mind to the task, he however shyly diverts his gaze from your (probably) intense one.
“But that’s just my opinion.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“Thank you very much, um… ?”
“Namjoon.” He interjects with a nervous waver in his voice.
“Thank you Namjoon, I’ll take it into consideration.” You smile at him before moving with a determined pace to one of the unoccupied tables in the reading section.
You set your pile and start with the one with the long title, The ones who walk away from Omelas. You open it to the first page and read through it with increasing boredom. The flow is engaging but the author takes too much time describing things, why is the author describing things so much? Is no action going to happen?
Impatient as you are, you stop at the beginning of page two, wondering if you should still push through it or try the other one. You remember though, that Namjoon mentioned it being shorter, and he gave it such high praise too… it must be worth your time. You stare into space before you notice Namjoon typing away at his laptop a couple of tables away. You want to talk to him again so you push through the next pages.
You succumb to the author’s pace and style soon enough, going with the flow, immersing yourself and getting to know intimately the town of Omelas and it’s people, and unveiling its secret.
There’s a thrill rushing through your veins a few pages later when the story reveals its twist, and you find yourself overflowing with thoughts and reflections about life. A thought provoking read, he wasn’t wrong. The book had been worth your time and more. You loved it!
You get up your seat so fast the chair tumbles behind you, you look for the mop of brown hair and black framed glasses typing away at a laptop but find him gone. You deflate on the spot as you fight back the questions and comments filling your head, urging to be free.
You stare at the pile of unread books before you make up your mind: you want to talk with him about the book, about many books. You want to be able to hold a conversation with him, be at his level. So you readjust your chair and open the next one.