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Atem was this close to putting his head down in the middle of one of these books, slapping it shut, and squeezing his brain out. There was nothing left for him in this world. The campus library would be his grave, a resting place on his journey to the next life.
Or he could just take a break.
Self-consciously, he looked around at all the empty tables and chairs. Only two other people had deigned to join him since he sat down an hour and a half ago. They tapped away on laptops or scribbled into notebooks, resources and references scattered around their tables. Atem had a similar set-up, surrounded by as many notes as he could squeeze onto the table top as he tried to write this essay. It wasn’t going well.
He sat back and rubbed his eyes. There were too many things to look over, too many words to read, too many sources to check and double check for something useful. He desperately wanted a break, but the deadline loomed, and he should probably try to write more than… He scrolled through his document to quantify all his work.
Three pages.
Atem did put his head down then, heaving a great sigh, because this was the library, and he wasn’t allowed to scream in agony. At the very least, he could put some of the less-useful books away.
Reorganizing his workspace, Atem collected all the not-so-helpful books in a pile and carried them away. It would involve a lot of trekking back and forth between sections, but he would take the excuse to exercise. He skittered between the shelves, putting away books where he remembered getting them, and putting them in the carts if he didn’t. He scoured the shelves while he was there to try and pick out a more useful text or two. He picked up the first one that seemed halfway related to his topic and trudged back to his seat.
When he plopped back down, resolving himself to another hour of treachery, a new addition to his laptop caught his eye. Stuck on the screen was a bright yellow sticky note, with a message scribbled on it in a blocky handwriting: You’re doing great!
Atem took the note off his laptop and immediately looked around for who could have left it. Neither of the students near him had sticky notes. Atem didn’t have any sticky notes for someone to appropriate. Were the librarians going around leaving encouraging notes for their most distressed patrons now? Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised.
Looking down at the message, he couldn’t help but smile. Regardless of who left it, he’d take the vote of confidence. Atem stuck the note to the inside cover of his notebook and went back to work.
Flipping through the new text, he decided it was… eh. It had a few useful tidbits that were worth writing down, but most of it was full of stuff he’d already used from other books. Not good to keep around. He would have just stacked it up, but having a less cluttered table made him feel more productive somehow, so he stood up to put it back. He picked up another book that seemed useful and returned to his seat.
There was another sticky note waiting for him when he got back. Written in the same block handwriting, it said: I like your jacket!
Atem touched his jean jacket and had to agree it was pretty cool. He’d sewn the patches on himself, including the huge Eye of Horus that covered his entire back. Getting his work recognized was always nice—but usually he could thank the person who recognized it.
Looking around, nobody stood up to take credit. The two students worked dutifully on their assignments. A librarian wheeled a cart down an aisle. Someone coughed. No one had any sticky notes.
Weird, Atem thought, putting the note with its sibling. Maybe they’re shy?
The notes only appeared when he stood up to go get something, so that had to be it. He hoped whoever it was would reveal themselves eventually. He reluctantly put the mystery out of his mind and got back to work.
This second book proved much more useful. Not only did it provide him with a perfect quote to drop in his next paragraph, it also referenced two other books that he hadn’t heard of before. Atem tore a page out of his notebook, scribbled down their names, and power-walked to the reference desk to see if the school had a copy of either of them.
When he got back to his desk, two new books in his arms, there was another sticky note waiting for him: Cool hair ♡
Okay. That heart definitely ruled out any of the librarians.
Atem sheepishly combed back his bangs, slouching down with the note as if anyone else was around to see it. His hair was always kind of a mess, so he doubted it looked that cool. But still. It was nice of them to say.
The little heart absorbed most of his attention. Was this person some kind of secret admirer? Did people still do that? His real heart fluttered at the idea of being worth pining over in secret to someone, but he quickly dashed the idea.
This is romance novel brain rot, he scolded himself and sat up. The sticky notes were a nice distraction, but he really had to get this essay done. He flipped open his notebook to stick the third one against the cover and forget about it.
A fourth sticky note was already there: Surprise! Did I get you?
So they had a sense of humor. Good to know. Fighting a smile, Atem rearranged the sticky notes and shut the cover. Now it was essay time. For real.
Pouring over the new books, he found them useful. There was plenty of rehashing of stuff he already knew, but enough good stuff for them to be worth keeping around. He took notes, cross-referenced, tapped up a couple things on his laptop, all the normal essay writing things. Even so, his mind was only half-focused on his work.
The sticky note mystery consumed him a lot more than he wanted to admit. There were only so many people in this library, and among those, only so many people who could rush over to his table, stick something on his laptop, and sit down before he got back. There were only so many people who could see him stick the others in his notebook! They had to be somewhere nearby.
He eyed the other two students near him, both consumed with their work. One sat two tables down, hoodie up, tufts of blonde peeking out the sides, and nose in a book. The other sat at the table diagonal to his, scribbling in a composition notebook with a variety of colored pens. Neither had reacted when he found any of the notes. No tells of someone eager to see what he would do. He looked behind him, at a stretch of empty carpet and more bookshelves, another section of desks beyond them. Nobody peeked out from between aisles, walked by a suspicious number of times, or glanced his way at all.
Atem went back to his work, cheek on his fist as he puzzled. Whoever they were, they sure were determined to stay hidden.
Notes and books wormed their way back into his focus, with no new texts to retrieve or put away for a long stretch. After a certain point, his body demanded he hydrate it, all the water sucked out from boredom, so he ducked under the table for his backpack. From it, he retrieved a reusable water bottle. It was nowhere near as full as he’d like. He frowned at it.
I forgot to fill it back up after class, he lamented. Because he’d come straight here instead of going back to the dorms. Ugh. At least there was a water fountain nearby.
Pushing out of his chair, Atem debated the merits of leaving everything behind while he went to fill it back up. On the one hand, laptop thieves. On the other, he was going to come right back. Plus if he moved his stuff… he might miss the next sticky note.
Atem locked his laptop and rushed off for the water fountain with a stupid smile. Maybe if he got back fast enough, he’d be able to catch them in the act!
The fountain had different ideas. The weakest, slowest stream of water in the world burbled from the spout, forcing him to stand there for several minutes. So much for that plan. On the bright side, this water was actually cold.
On the walk back to his table, Atem kept an eagle eye out for any suspicious movements—for anyone with sticky notes. Nothing alerted him. All was quiet. When he returned to his seat, he sat down slowly, taking a hard look at both students near him. Neither had moved since he got up. They didn’t even look at him. Atem scrunched his nose, suspicious, but let it slide.
The promised sticky note was waiting for him, pasted to the black screen of his laptop, and it evaporated his investigative persona:
Your smile is so cute.
Atem rushed with warmth, wanting to beam and cover his entire face at the same time. He took the note to cup it in his palm and fawn over it. Maybe it wasn’t romance novel brain rot.
Remembering the surprise, Atem flipped open his notebook to check for another—and was disappointed. Not that disappointed though. He stuck the newest note in the very center of the back cover, so he would always see it first.
Now more than ever, he wanted to find out who his mysterious note-leaving admirer was. Did they hang out in the library a lot? Would he be able to see them again? Would he have to discover the truth before he left for the day? Could he come back later?
Atem signed back into his laptop, his now four-page essay waiting for him where he left off. Four out of a minimum of eight pages—he was already halfway done. Despite his complaints, he would definitely be able to finish it before the deadline, but that meant he wouldn’t need to hang out in the library as much anymore.
No. He had to find out who this was today.
When Atem went back to his books, it was to pretend to study while he thought up a plan. They only left notes when he left his desk, and left them fast enough that he could never pinpoint a single suspect. He supposed the most obvious thing to do was ask if anyone had seen a person come up and slap a sticky note on his laptop, but that was too easy. If the admirer thought he was onto them, they might stop. He wanted more—he needed to collect as much evidence as possible. To figure out who they were. No other reason.
He looked down at the book he was pretending to read. He flipped through it briefly—not much left to make note of. It was time to… put it away.
Atem walked the book back to the nearest cart at a normal pace. The second it was out his hand, he spun around and dashed back to his seat as fast as he could. A sticky note waited on his laptop, but no culprit remained. Annoyed, he sat back down and froze.
You’re beautiful ♡♡♡ , read the note, each heart done in a different color.
“That’s not fair,” Atem said out loud, insides twisted in too many directions to care. He peeled the note off the screen, whirling all around to find some sort of clue.
His desperate eyes zeroed in on the student diagonal to him. And the multicolored pens on the table. Atem stood up with the note in hand.
“Excuse me,” he said, and made sure to smile.
The student folded back long white hair and popped out one wireless earbud. “Yes?” he asked. “Can I help you?”
“You wouldn’t happen to be the person who keeps leaving these on my laptop, would you?” Atem showed off the note pasted to his hand, confident he’d found the perpetrator.
But the student didn’t look caught, not even phased. He shook his head. “No, not me. Sorry.”
“You didn’t see anybody?”
“I’ve been working.” He lifted his composition notebook, covered in a rainbow of looping handwriting. “I haven’t really been paying attention to anything. If I happen to see them, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
“Hm.” Atem didn’t see any sticky notes on the table, but they could be easily hidden. He wasn’t buying it. “If you do happen to see them.” He borrowed one of the pens to scrawl his phone number on the bottom of the note. “You can give them this.”
Now the guy looked surprised, but not in a good way. “Uh. I’ll do that.”
Atem didn’t think much of it. He just turned around and hoped nobody else saw that. The only other person in the area was the student two desks down. They were sleeping with their hoodie pulled low over their face, book upside down in their hands. Been there.
He went back to his table, looked at all his materials, and decided it was time to get out of here. Today was an accomplishment—he got halfway through his essay and caught his sticky note culprit. It was time to go back to his dorm and gush to Mana and Mahad about it. Plus, this would give him one more chance to prove himself right. Or get another note. Either would be acceptable.
Atem folded up his notebook, zipped up his pencil case, and stuffed it all back into his backpack. He shut down his laptop, but left the screen up for optimal sticky note placement. All that was left were the books he hadn’t put away. Scooping them into his arms, he traversed to the nearest cart.
But didn’t quite get there.
As soon as he was out of eyeshot, Atem doubled back. He ducked behind a shelf and crouched around the corner in a totally-not-creepy way so he could listen for any movement. Ears strained, he waited.
A shuffle. A chair moved. A pen clicked. Atem almost gave himself away right there, but he heard a happy giggle from an unfamiliar voice and the voice of the white-haired student sighed.
“Will you just talk to him, Yugi?” he whispered.
“Absolutely not,” whoever Yugi was whispered back. “This is working.”
“It’s not working. He thinks it’s me!”
Wait, what? Atem knit his brow and kept listening.
“I got a number though,” Yugi said.
“I got a number. If you talk to him, he’s going to think it’s me.”
“So it’ll be a hilarious misunderstanding.”
“This is how you get to star on an episode of Catfish.”
“It’s not catfishing, Ryou.”
“It’s close enough.”
Okay, this was getting too weird, even for Atem. He stood up and poked his head around the shelf, revealing his position, and shocking himself at what he’d walked into. Ryou sat at his table, right where Atem had left him. The student with the hoodie was gone, book shut, now standing at Atem’s laptop with a pad of sticky notes in one hand and one of Ryou’s colored pens in the other.
“Um,” Atem started, and they both jumped.
The second student—Yugi?—stuffed the sticky notes into his hoodie pouch in a panic. He looked at Ryou. Ryou put his face in his hands. There was no moving or talking for several seconds.
“I’m not caffeinated enough for this,” Ryou decided. He packed up his things.
“Uh, wait,” Yugi began.
Ryou took the pen from him when he walked by. “Good luck, be yourself.”
Atem could only watch with sympathetic heartache as Yugi turned around to watch his friend leave him behind with someone he’d been secretly pining after. Ouch.
“So,” Atem said, taking a cautious step forward.
Yugi jumped around with a fearful hiccup. Even with the hood pulled up, he looked absolutely mortified. “I—Um. S-sorry.”
He slunk away but Atem lunged to the table to stop him. “No, no, wait. Don’t leave. Please.”
Hunched at the shoulders, he stopped. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t say anything.
“Thank you,” Atem said. “For the notes you left. I hope your friend wasn’t weirded out too bad when I uh. Thought he was you.”
“He’ll be fine,” Yugi said, in a small voice. “He does weirder things in his spare time.”
“Okay. Cool.”
The awkward silence started to move in. Atem chanced a step forward. “Did he give you my number before he took off?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. I wasn’t sure if he just left with it. But cool, that’s good.”
“Yep.”
“So… can I have yours?”
Yugi turned halfway around. “You want it?”
“Well. Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like anyone who calls me beautiful before even learning my name is at least worth a shot, you know?”
Biting his lip into a smile, Yugi averted his eyes. “I guess I did do that, didn’t I?”
“I don’t mind. It adds to the mystery.”
Yugi laughed, the same giggle Atem heard from around the shelf. He decided he liked it.
“Here.” He dug around in his hoodie pocket and peeled off a sticky note. “This was going to be the next one anyway, so.” Instead of a message, it was a giant pink heart with a phone number written inside.
“Thank you.” Atem couldn’t help smiling fondly at it.
“Sure,” Yugi said. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Yugi, by the way.”
“Oh! Right.” He took the offered handshake. “I’m Atem.”
Yugi perked up. “That’s a cool name.”
“Thanks.” Feeling a bit bolder now, he joked, “Would that have gone on a sticky note too?”
With a little smile, Yugi produced the sticky notes and a ballpoint pen out of his hoodie pouch. He scribbled something down and handed it off. Atem tried not to look too excited when he took the note to read:
Your name is really cool ♡
He failed at not looking excited.