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The first step in solving a problem, was realizing you had one. For Hen, the unfortunate thing was that her problem wasn’t easily solved.
The Academia’s library was its pride and joy, and while Hen appreciated its vast catalog of botany journals and mathematics texts that made it seem so simple, the books nor the quiet space to study was why she kept coming back (much as she did enjoy the relative peace and quiet).
No, it was -
“Good afternoon, Mr. Selch.” the man in question looked up at her from behind his desk, a slight upward curve of his lips the only tell that he was glad to see her.
“Ah, Miss Morrison, here to return your books?” he answered, tone calm yet warm as she drew closer.
“Just the one.” Hen set the book down, soft smile on her face. Selch picked up the book, eyebrows raised.
“Ah, the mystery I recommended to you. How did you like it?” To anyone else’s eye, there was no change to his expression. But Hen recognized the shift in his eyes as his interest was piqued.
“Loved it. Could hardly put it down. And that twist at the end, it was brilliant!” Hen couldn’t help but gush, practically hopping in glee. The curve of Selch’s lips rose higher, eyes twinkling.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it, not many enjoy Totolymo’s writing style.” Selch murmured as he placed the novel among the stock of returned books. “A shame really, I do so love his ability to show rather than tell.”
Hen nodded, rocking on her heels. Selch looked up at her and she had to swallow, wondering if there really were butterflies in her stomach trying to escape. “Anything else you need Miss Morrison?” he asked.
“N-No sir.” she babbled. Selch’s eyebrows rose once more, but he said nothing, simply going back to his work. Once Hen was out of ear and eyeshot, she lifted her scarf over her mouth and squealed.
Hen wasn’t quite sure when the crush began. It wasn’t as though Selch was a charming, confident teacher like Nabriales who seemingly had entire classes wrapped around his finger nor a passionate lecturer like Lahabrea who could make even the most boring subject interesting, or even Hythlodaeus, who managed to weave humor into his lessons.
Selch was a librarian who did some side vocational classes on architecture, quiet, stern and in possession of a resting bitch face. Yet it was clear he cared for his work, a silent thoughtfulness clear in his actions. Perhaps it was how seriously he took his roles that lit that initial spark.
Hen did know however, exactly when their friendship began.
A hand at her back jolted Hen from what definitely wasn’t dozing off.
“Bw-huh?” she looked around blearily, finding herself looking up at Selch, standing a few inches away from her, his arms folded.
“It’s almost closing time and you’re still here, half asleep by the looks of things.”He said curtly. “You’ve twenty minutes until the library closes, as the bars so charmingly put it, ‘you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.’”
Hen blinked at him, eyes flicking between him and her homework. She slumped over, head against her arms.
“I just…” tears began prickling at her eyes and she burrowed deeper into the hiding hole she’d made herself. “I don’t understand the problem and this test’s due tomorrow afternoon and it’s a good chunk of my finals this semester and-” A hand found her shoulders, fingers tracing circles into her back.
“Slow down, take a few deep breaths.” Hen could hear a chair being pulled up as she tried to focus her breathing again. Eventually, her sobs evened out into normal breathing, rubbing at her eyes. Selch’s expression was one of genuine worry and concern, something she didn’t quite expect.
“Feel good enough to explain?” he asked. Hen hiccuped and nodded.
“I’ve been working on this test for days now, I can’t make sense of the last question and I have to and my brain’s just-” Selch cut her off with a tutting sound, picking up the test.
“This is...chemistry is it not?” he asked after a few moments of looking it over.
“Y-Yeah,” Hen sniffled, “I’m...I’m taking a botany major under Halmarut. I’ve aced all her other tests so I don’t understand why this one’s so hard.”
“I believe you’re suffering from burnout Miss…” Selch trailed off.
“Morrison. I’m Henrietta Morrison.” Hen answered. “But I prefer just ‘Hen’.” Selch smiled at her nonetheless, the turn of his lips gentle.
“Miss Morrison yes. Regardless, what you’re suffering from is burnout. I imagine you’ve been at this last test for hours yes?” he asked. Hen could only nod, Selch mirroring the action. “Rest. Take your mind off of your studies for a while. I imagine you could do well with a few hours of sleep.”
“But that’s-” Hen began, only for Selch to cut her off once more.
“I insist.” he rubbed his chin. “You’re studying under Halmarut yes? If you need an extension, simply ask. Intimidating as your professors undoubtedly are, the last thing they want is you compromising your health for your studies.”
A few more deep breaths and Hen sighed. “Alright.” she gathered her things with an uncharacteristic amount of care, as if afraid abusing the (paid for) textbooks would invoke Selch’s ire. When she made it to the entrance of the library she paused.
“...Thank you.” Hen said after a moment’s pause. “You...gonna be alright?” Selch blinked, seemingly taken aback by the question.
“The closing up? I believe I’ll be quite alright Miss Morrsion.”
As it turned out, Halmarut was happy to give Hen an extension on her test. With a few extra days before she had to turn it in, Hen had to admit a break was a wonderful idea.
Yet somehow, her steps lead her to the library once more, sipping at her iced coffee as the plot of the horror she was reading began to pick up speed, her heart pounding as the hero of the novel was drawing closer to unraveling the mystery-
“I thought I told you to rest.”
Hen tried her hardest not to spill her coffee on the book, tossing it as she jumped in shock. Turning towards the voice, Selch standing just a few inches away with a bemused expression on his face was what greeted her.
“...I am.” she grumbled after a moment, collecting her novel. Selch raised an eyebrow, fingers tracing against the spine of the book.
“...this isn’t a text book.” he said belatedly, after a few moments of silence.
“Yeah, it isn’t.” Hen replied, opening the mystery once more and trying to find her page. Selch took a step closer, practically leaning over the chair to get a better look.
“Ah, I didn’t take you for a horror fan Miss Morrison.” she looked back to see an odd look on his face, as if he was curious.
“I like books that get my heart racing.” Hen shrugged. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she gave him a wry smile and he frowned.
“What, am I not allowed to take a break?” he sat down at the table next to her. “I was enjoying a stroll when I spotted you.”
“Oh, sorry.” His eyebrows rose once more at her apology.
“What for? I chose to stay here after I was certain you were fine.” he snorted, eyes on her book. “By the by, why one of Warde’s novels? I can think of at least one other who writes better motives for their villains.” Hen felt her cheeks run hot.
“I like the heroine. She reminds me of myself a lil.” she explained. Selch’s eyes softened, despite the serious line his mouth made.
“Ah, Warde does have a habit of making their heroes the type one can project onto.” an odd smile spread across Selch’s face. “I’ll admit, I prefer characters whose motives make me think and consider their morals.”
Hen just smiled in turn. “Huh. So how about you then, what are your favorite genres?”
“I’ve a fondness for science fiction, especially when it’s clear the writer knows a thing or two about science so their world is believable. Another favorite of mine is alternate history, the myriad ways our history could change is a fascinating subject.” he looked around, as if verifying no one else was listening, before leaning closer. “My guilty pleasure is erotic novels.”
Hen squeaked, her cheeks aflame as she scooted back. Selch merely raised an eyebrow at her.
“What?” he asked.
“Y-You’re a librarian.” she sputtered.
“And? Did you think us all stuffy elderly ladies?” he retorted. “I’ll have you know I’ve a myriad of interests.”
Hen couldn’t help but laugh at how put out he seemed. “Well, what are some of those interests?”
Selch seemed taken aback by the question, before giving her that odd smile of his. “Well, beyond my love of literature, I enjoy the fine, intricate workings of architecture, theatre production and well, flowers.”
Before she could even stop herself the barrage of questions began. “What’s your favorite cultivar? Do you grow your own? Do you like hybrids? What about-” Hen clapped a hand over her mouth, flushing furiously. To his credit, Selch merely smiled.
“I take it this is a passion for you?” he asked. Hen slumped back in her seat, a sheepish smile at her lips.
“It’s my everything.”
It quickly became a routine for her, speaking with Selch on his breaks. They’d talk about everything from her new school work assignment to Selch’s favorite musical.
“Aida is leaps and bounds above Heathers. Veronica wasn’t intended to be a sympathetic character, and their way of turning her into one is flimsy. Aida is sympathetic because she tries to make the best of what fate has dealt her, rather than whine about the problems she got herself into.” Selch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Hen could only gape at him.
“But if every character’s an asshole than who are you supposed to root for? I like musical Ronnie because she learns and grows from what she went through and that’s why she’s a sympathetic character.” she replied. “She doesn’t need to be a Heather in the end because she found something better. Aida never really fights against her fate she just sorta accepts it.”
Today’s topic was favored musical heroines, one they seemed to disagree on. With the library preparing to close, the two of them saw fit to while away the rest of the minutes with their discussion.
“And that is why it’s a tragedy Miss Morrison, Aida had no true ability to escape. What? Would you say Romeo and Juliet is terrible as well?”
“No, Shakespear’s great. It’s just the primary couple are dumber than a sack of popotos.” She answered. Selch made a face at her and Hen could have sworn she saw a vein twitch.
“That is the entire point! They’re dumb teenagers in love and their love has a profound effect on both of their families as a result.” Selch held his hands out, as if his rant was about to pick up steam. But before he could even begin speaking, a loud clap of thunder interrupted him.
Hen jumped, looking around. Selch seemed to be of a similar mind, looking out the windows.
“What? That storm wasn’t supposed to arrive until-” he murmured to himself, walking to the entrance of the library. Unsure of what else to do, Hen followed. A chill greeted them when Selch opened the door to stand under the library’s overhang.
The sound of rainfall greeted them, silently watching the rain patter against the concrete. Hen pulled her arms closer around herself for warmth, her eyes on Selch. His expression was unreadable, yet his eyes were warm, as if the storm was something he’d been anticipating.
“It appears we lost track of time.” he admitted quietly. “Do you have transportation?”
Hen shrugged. “I can teleport back to the dorms, but the aetheryte’s still a five minute walk.” and just her luck, she didn’t have an umbrella. Not to mention the fee. Selch sighed, eyes turning to her fully.
“While I’m not supposed to let you stay here after closing, there’s no rule saying I have to deny you shelter until the storm passes.” a mischievous glint filled his eyes as he walked back inside. Hen’s eyes followed, watching as Selch stopped in the doorway.
She wasn’t sure what it was that made her heart skip a beat; perhaps the softness in his eyes, the way he held out a hand for her to take, or maybe perhaps the sight of him welcoming in her in from the cold. Whatever it was, Hen felt like she was on auto-pilot as she took his offered hand, the warmth of the library inviting.
But once the rain puttered out into a light drizzle, enough that she was confident that she wasn’t going to be soaked on the walk home, Hen realized something.
She had a problem, and it was named Emet Selch.
The first step in solving a problem, was realizing you had one. Hen wasn’t sure how to approach solving it. She liked the most obvious solution, but something about it felt wrong, like even thinking about it was breaking a code of college etiquette. Dating your teacher was a definite taboo; but was dating the college librarian one?
And even then, how was she supposed to confess? Attempt to do it while he was working and face the potential humiliation if peers saw her? Corner him at closing? None of those felt right, not to mention it reminded her all too much of the guys who’d hit on baristas because they couldn’t be rude or run. But as she continued to mull it over, an idea crept up on her and laid in her lap like a cat.
“What’s your favorite flower?” she had asked, during one of their conversations. Selch had made a noncommittal noise as he placed books on their shelves.
“Forget-me-nots. A simple flower, they mean remembrance and true love. I’m terribly fond of them.”
She’d thought nothing of it until now. But now...now she had a way to communicate her feelings in a way that wouldn’t corner him.
The flowers came from a local greenhouse, the book, the library itself. Asking for Selch’s favorite erotic novel yielded her an exquisite tale of a war between two countries acting as the backdrop to the romance between two soldiers from opposing factions, the trials the lovers facing mirroring the war itself and vice versa, leading to a bittersweet ending.
Between her classes and other obligations, Hen managed to finish the novel in time for the pressing to be done. She could have used an iron or the microwave in the dorms to speed things up, but Selch’s passion for the old fashioned left her unwilling to take the shorter path.
Besides, it wouldn’t do well to immediately return the book. No, she needed to take her time.
Yet when the time came, Hen felt her heart hammering in her throat as she walked up to the library. Tucked in the novel’s back cover, she’d folded the pressed forget-me-nots in the handwritten note.
“Meet me in science fiction section on your next break.” Involving the library felt right, and allowing Selch to either deny or accept her confession on his terms was exactly what she wanted. But as she made her way to the desk, doubts began creeping up.
Selch’s eyes caught her’s, smiling as she approached. “Ah, hello Miss Morrison. How did you enjoy my recommendation?” he asked. Hen’s hands shook as she handed the book back, hoping he didn’t catch that or the look in her eyes.
“Beautiful. The author knows how to write good sex scenes and the ending...I damn near teared up.” she admitted. Selch smiled knowingly.
“Valentione knows how to tug at the heartstrings. Most of her work is fluffy and sweet, which is why this one took me off guard. I do so love it when an author branches out from their usual.” he made to open the book and Hen stopped him, her hand overlapping with his.
“...Wait a little bit to do your thing okay?” she hoped she didn’t sound too worried. Selch’s eyebrows rose, but he seemingly conceded, withdrawing his hand.
“Very well miss Morrison.” There was confusion in his eyes as Hen walked away, feeling the butterflies in her stomach multiplying by the hundreds.
The wait was agonizing, watching the clock on the wall tick away minutes. Hen bade the time by flipping through novels, only barely reading various paragraphs. She’d switched to sitting and hugging her knees when she heard footsteps. Hen looked up to see Selch at the end of the bookshelf, recognizing the book in his hand as the one she’d just returned. She stood up with a start.
“I-I can-” she began, but Selch shushed her with a wave of his hand, walking closer. He stopped just in front of her, opening the novel to the pressed forget-me-nots and the note.
“My favorite flower, in my favorite romance...would I be correct in assuming you mean something by this?” he asked. Hen nodded slowly, her eyes locking with the floor.
“Y-Yeah…” she trailed off. “I-I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me anything, I can-” the feeling of a hand in her curls had Hen gasping, opening her eyes to see a wry smile on Selch’s lips. He stepped forward, pressing her against the bookshelf. His other hand found the side of her mouth, thumb dangerously close to the edge of her lips.
“I’ve only one question.” he murmured. “Why me? Surely your peers are more your speed yes?” Hen blinked, taken aback. There was uncertainty in his eyes and Hen could only smile, her hand reaching up for his neck, playing with the shaved undercut of his hair.
“You’d think, but somehow my speed is men who’ll gladly bicker with me about what kind of flowers are best for an arbor.” she answered. One second the look in his eyes changed and the next his lips were on hers. His lips were soft, more than hers and she wished she’d actually used chapstick.
A tongue pressed at the seam of her lips and she opened her mouth purely on instinct, hands digging into his sweater as the kiss deepened. A pleased sigh left her, one of his hands trailing down to curl his fingers at her waist, tugging her closer. When they parted, Hen was left breathless, a smile stretching across her lips that he mirrored.
“I still think roses are the better option.” Emet huffed playfully. Hen could only laugh, pressing her nose against his.
“Piss off, it’s wisterias.”