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The only sound in the library were faint footsteps as Ghosdeeri checked over the bookshelves, making sure no books were lost or out of order. No-one except her was in the building, after all, it was nighttime. She silently grabbed a book and gave it a quick-glance over before placing it back down in an empty space on the bookshelf next to it.
As she walked back to her desk, she heard the bell on the door chime. "'Sup, Ghos," a familiar voice greeted, giving a slight wave to the pumpkin-headed librarian. Ghosdeeri couldn't quite put her finger on what, but something just felt... off about him. But she pushed that lingering though aside. For now, at least. "Greetings, Traffic."
She watched as Traffic slumped down on a navy blue beanbag, the various accessories on him jingling softly. His posture looked more slumped than usual, his gaze seemed more worn-out, and his smile seemed slightly forced. He leaned back, looking up at the decorations hanging from the ceiling as he fidgeted with his hands.
Finding the silence slightly uncomfortable, Traffic tried to strike up a conversation. "So, how's the library been while I was away? Anything cool happened?"
Ghosdeeri though for a few moments, then shook her head. "No. Nothing of interest has occurred," she replied, walking back to her desk. A few piles of books sat on the painted wood, likely ones to be shelved after being returned. She picked a stack up before going back to the shelves and beginning to place back the books in the correct spots.
The two chatted idly - Traffic asking questions and Ghosdeeri giving matter-of-fact responses or simply just listening. After about 15 minutes, the latter had finished most the books.
"I will be upstairs if I am needed," Ghosdeeri said, heading up the stairs while carrying the last stack of books. Traffic just nodded in response. That was... a little out of character for him, to say the least. Concern began to bubble inside of her as she worked her way through her tasks. There was no humming, no comedic comments, not even any tapping drifting up the stairs. Traffic wasn't usually this quiet. Not unless something was wrong.
Speaking of Traffic, he was sitting quietly on the beanbag, partially zoned out, but mostly thinking about what had happened the night before. He knew he shouldn't have done it. He knew he didn't want to break his clean streak. But he did, and now he felt horrible. He wouldn't let that show, however. Everyone knew him as the chill, laid-back shopkeeper. Not someone who... nevermind.
He stood up, being as quiet as he could, then took off his hefty backpack, placing in in front of him as he slotted himself into a corner between two bookshelves. Pulling his knees to his chest, his mind raced. Those fucking urges had won over him again. He was doing so well, just for it to all come crashing down because he couldn't think of how else to cope.
A shaky breath escaped him. Not dramatic, not a sob, but just enough to confirm Ghosdeeri's worries. She set down the cleaning spray she was holding on a nearby table and made her way downstairs. "Traffic...?" she asked, her voice carrying a worried tone, one she rarely used.
His breath hitched before he quickly wiped away the tears that were beginning to fall. "Wassup?" Traffic tried to act as nonchalant as he could as he moved his bag, but his voice wobbled slightly. And Ghosdeeri noticed.
She sat down on the beanbag in front of him, folding her hands on her lap. "What is the matter? I can tell you are upset," she stated. Traffic waved a hand dismissively at her comment. "Honestly, Ghos, I'm fine."
"You are not."
He broke eye contact, now looking at the ground. He couldn't hide it forever, could he? But a part of him desperately wanted to keep trying. A dry chuckle escaped his lips, but it sounded too much like a choked cry to be reassuring.
"I'm just a bit tired today, that's all."
"Are you sure that is all?"
Traffic nodded. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It was very clear that something else was on his mind. She didn't want to pry or seem invasive, but she couldn't help him if he wouldn't say what the problem was. "You are aware you can tell me anything, correct?"
That was true, she would never judge. But Traffic still felt like she would look at him differently if she knew. "I know, it's just that..."
"I don't want ya to see me differently, y'know?"
"What do you mean?"
"I–I just don't wanna be seen as a different person. Like a liar."
Ghosdeeri fell silent, trying to piece together what could have happened. What could he have lied about? Then it clicked.
"This is about your addiction, is it not?"
Traffic had promised to quit. He knew the drugs were ruining him, but as they say, old habits die hard... He nodded, curling into himself a little bit more. "Last night, I... you know..."
"Relapsed?"
"Mm-hmm."
Tears started to prick at his eyes. He took deep breaths, trying to keep himself together, but his efforts were in vain. The dam of emotions broke as he lowered his head into his knees, quiet sobs wracking his frame.
Ghosdeeri moved off of the beanbag, sitting slightly closer to him. "I see."
"It's just–I don't–" Another sniffle cut him off. "I just don't wanna live like this anymore..."
She didn't say anything more, but gently placed a hand on his knee in an attempt to offer comfort. Hesitantly, he placed a trembling hand on top of hers.
"Tomorrow, we try again. But trying again does not mean you have erased your progress."
Traffic nodded again, starting to calm down a little.
Maybe, just maybe, this next time will be better.