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Thursday nights are always the longest of Sykkuno's week. There’s never anything bad about Thursdays, per se, but as the months drag on and the days grow colder, Thursday night desk shifts have become more of an overwhelming hurdle to get over rather than a quiet, easy shift. The low hum of the fluorescent lights overhead is in constant threat of lulling Sykkuno to sleep no matter how much coffee he’s consumed during the day. The library is never too busy past 6 pm, most patrons head home to make dinner for their families around then, but there are always enough regulars and stragglers that it makes closing before 9 impossible. No matter what, Sykkuno can always count on the same Thursday night crowd; the guy who always prints out photos of newscasters for unknown reasons, the woman who seemingly is always in a heated dispute with The Container Store (if Sykkuno has to show her how to attach photos to an email one more time he is going to lose it), and the man in the mask.
Granted, the man in the mask is a relative newcomer, especially compared to the rest of the Thursday night crowd, but it has been a few weeks and he keeps showing up. Sykkuno has never gotten his name, he's not entirely sure the guy even has a library card, but every week, around 7:45, masked man strolls in. Always in black, always wearing a facemask and eyepatch, sometimes with a coffee. Technically he can't have coffee in the library but the only person who would willingly say something about it is Sykkuno, and as long as the guy is quiet and doesn’t spill, Sykkuno doesn’t really see the point in making it into an issue or a confrontation. Definitely not a confrontation. Sykkuno isn’t quite sure how he could be asked to reprimand someone he isn’t even able to make eye contact with, so letting him walk around with his coffee seems like a comfortable middle ground.
Masked man never asks questions. He never needs help, never needs to sign up for programs or ask where things are located. If Sykkuno had to put money on it, he would guess masked man knew the library even better than he does. The Adult Reference desk faces the long hallway entrance, so there's no way masked man can enter or leave without Sykkuno noticing, and even aside from that, the quiet clink of the chains on his belt makes it easy to tell when he's arrived.
Sykkuno has never asked his name, but in his head he calls him Corpse. Since he’s started coming, Corpse always wears a jacket that has the word scrawled across the back panel, likely drawn on by hand. That's all Sykkuno’s had to go on for weeks. It seems to fit. Sure, technically he could just look at the title of whatever book Corpse wanders away with this week and check to see who it's checked out to, he's done that before for other more problematic patrons, but Corpse just seems to be the kind of guy who Sykkyno doesn’t need to worry about. He’s quiet, has never caused a problem, and always puts the books he doesn’t need right back on the reshelving cart rather than trying to reshelve them himself or leaving them strewn across one of the study tables. He’s every librarian’s dream patron.
As October shifts into November and the holidays quickly begin approaching, Thursday nights become slightly less boring. The same regulars still show up, Connie still calls at exactly 6:15 pm to see what's on TCM that night, and Corpse always shows. The only change is now that the administration has picked up on the fact that Thursday is one of the slower evenings, they’ve delegated new tasks for Sykkyno's shift. And that is how he’s ended up on top of a ladder in the Adult Department, wrapping a pole with sparkly fairy lights for the holidays.
It beats sitting at the desk all night refreshing Twitter and answering calls regarding self-help books, but not by much. After he handles Connie's nightly call, Sykkuno hoists himself up from his desk, pulling the stepladder out from the supply closet and quietly unrolling a strand of lights. The one perk to these Thursday nights alone at the desk is that although he can't have sound playing, he can pull up YouTube or Twitch streams on the desktop to pass some time. He's enraptured by a particularly fantastic Valorant game when he drops the strand of lights, sighing in defeat as it unrolls and spirals down the pole. Climbing down the ladder and rewrapping it is going to take another 10 minutes, so Sykkuno sighs again, leaning his head against the pole in defeat. Fucking Thursday night’s man.
"Uh...." A low rumble hits Sykkuno's ears and he whips his head back, assuming a patron needs him.
It's Corpse.
He looks about as uncomfortable with the situation as Sykkuno feels, shifting his weight back and forth from one side to another as his eyes glance away from Sykkuno to the pile of lights at the bottom of the pole.
"You okay man?"
In all of Sykkuno’s thoughts about Corpse, what books he reads, where he comes from, what his name is, why he’s always so quiet, never once did Sykkuno possibly contemplate what his voice sounded like. In his mind, his voice was normal, a typical quiet library voice that could be inserted into anyone. Not this. Not this deep bass, almost rumbling intonation, that seems to ping pong through his chest and ribcage. He never expected this.
“Uh. Um. Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” Sykkuno replies, now deeply aware of the high-pitched, hesitancy of his own much less interesting voice. His professionalism kicks in enough to lift his head and present a half-smile to Corpse, before looking back down at the lights.
“Just one of those days, you know?” Sykkuno finally adds. There’s no use in hiding the fact that he fucked up and accidentally undid the past twenty minutes of work. With his luck, Corpse was probably standing behind the nearest bookcase, laughing to himself as he watched Sykkuno’s work unravel to the floor. It wouldn’t be the first time. Usually, he would dwell on this, knowing someone could have been watching and mocking him, but instead he has a brief flash of what Corpse maybe would sound like while giggling, and perhaps being embarrassed wasn’t so bad after all.
“Story of my fuckin life.” Corpse responds with a bit too much edge for it to be a joke.
Sykkuno snorts a little in response without even thinking.
“At least I’m not alone I guess.”
He busies his hands by pressing them into the tape holding the remaining end of the lights up, fully aware if he allows them to hang at his sides Corpse may notice the tiny, nervous shake they’ve taken on.
“Definitely not.”
Sykkuno looks over and down at Corpse again, wondering if his eyes are smiling. He wants to believe they are, but it’s hard with the facemask and eyepatch combo. Maybe he’s just hoping?
He is surprised, however, when Corpse makes his way to Sykkuno’s desk, tossing his small pile of books on top and turning back to face him.
“Alright. Let’s fucking do this.”
Sykkuno’s head snaps up to meet Corpse’s, eyes wide in surprise.
“Oh shit. Shoot. I mean, uhh…sorry. Can I swear in here? Is that like, allowed?”
For such an intimidating figure, Corpse’s voice fully betrays him, deep or not. There’s a small quiver in it as he attempts to whisper, which just drops the sound even lower. Sykkyno instinctively leans in to hear him better, steadying himself with the rails of the step ladder.
“Well I’m in charge here tonight so you have my permission to say whatever you want,” Sykkuno says, only realizing after the words have left his mouth how flirty that might have come across. He’s about to clarify himself when Corpse interrupts.
“Well, that’s…good to know I have your permission then.” Corpse giggles.
If Sykkuno wasn’t already hanging onto the rails of the step ladder for his life, he probably would have turned into a spluttery, awkward mess just hearing that giggle.
He’s contemplating how to respond when Corpse jumps into action, piling the discarded string of lights into his arms.
“Alright, I’ll wrap, you tape?”
Sykkuno clears his throat, attempting to cough out the nervousness in his voice.
“Sounds great!”
They work silently, in tandem, for a while as Corpse’s deft fingers (Jesus Christ his hands! Sykkuno thinks) untangle the pile of lights and pass them around the pole, motioning to Sykkuno and pulling them taut every time tape is needed.
Once the strand runs out, Corpse kneels and gestures to Sykkuno for tape, pressing it into the pole and securing it.
“There. Now you’re all set.” Corpse announces, looking up at Sykkuno from his knees. “That should hold it well enough.”
Sykkuno swallows a time or two, collecting himself. “Thanks so much for all your help. I would have never been able to finish this without losing my mind.” He says, offering Corpse a closed-lipped smile.
Corpse braces his hand against the ladder as he pushes himself back up, stopping to sweep the hair out of his eyes as he moves.
“No worries. You seemed a little stressed when I walked in, y’know? Not like yourself. Figured you might have needed a hand.”
Sykkuno makes his way down the ladder when the gravity of Corpse’s words hit him.
“Thanks. What do you mean not myself? Did I seem rude? I hope I wasn’t being rude, it’s been a long day and Thursday’s can be such a slog and I-“ Sykkuno rambles before Corpse jumps in.
“No! No, you were totally fine. It’s just that…” Corpse stops to rub the back of his neck for a moment, collecting his words. “Usually when I get here you’re all like, peppy and shit. You say hello or you’re on the phone being all nice to old ladies or whatever. You just seemed off today is all.”
He noticed. Corpse had never returned any of Sykkuno’s welcomes, but patrons rarely did so he never thought anything of it, but Corpse noticed. Noticed the way he said hello, noticed his phone calls with patrons, and noticed HIM. Maybe he wasn’t that far off with the whole Corpse watching him from the bookshelves idea…
“Oh. Well, that’s good then!” Sykkuno replies, smiling behind his hand. “At least I’m not failing at my job then, just with lighting!”
There is Corpse’s giggle again.
“Yeah. Yeah, you’re all good man.” Corpse says as he takes a step to collect his books from where they lay on Sykkuno’s desk.
“I gotta head out, I’m sure you have like, library closing shit, I mean stuff, to get to.”
Sykkuno’s closed mouth grin returns.
“It’s okay to swear remember? I’ll allow it just for you.”
Corpse’s eyes flash for a moment and Sykkuno can’t place why.
“That’s why you’re such a good librarian I guess, huh? You’re nice to everyone.”
“Only people who deserve it. Though you have been bringing coffee in here for weeks, I’ll let it slide as long as you help with future light pole issues.” Sykkuno chirps, trying his best to sound like the peppy librarian Corpse knows him as.
“You got a deal. See you next week?” Corpse asks, quirking the eyebrow not currently hidden under his curls.
“Definitely. I’m always here Thursdays. Most other days too but always Thursday nights.” Sykkuno hopes he isn’t coming off sounding too desperate but the combination of nerves and his inability to remember how to flirt are beginning to catch up with him.
“I’ll keep that in mind. See ya around.” Corpse nods his head at Sykkuno in goodbye as he takes a few steps backward, pivoting on his left foot to head toward the circulation desk. It isn’t until twenty minutes later, when he’s finally tossing away the last few paper remnants left at the catalog station, that Sykkuno realizes he hasn’t stopped smiling for an hour.
Thursday night is always the longest shift of the week, but at least it has one bright spot.