The library was unusually quiet that afternoon. Sophie often came here after school to catch up on homework or simply escape the bustle of the hallways. It was her sanctuary—a place where she could think clearly.
But today wasn't like most days.
She settled at her usual spot near the back, a cozy corner with a large window that overlooked the school's courtyard. Pulling out her notebook, Sophie tried to focus on the algebra problems scrawled across the page, but her thoughts kept wandering back to lunch.
Max had barely spoken, but there was something about him that stuck with her. His silence wasn't empty; it was thoughtful, like he was weighing every word before letting it slip past his lips. And that sketch... even the brief glimpse she'd caught was enough to intrigue her.
As she worked through a particularly tricky equation, a shadow fell across her notebook. Sophie looked up, startled, to find Max standing there.
"Hey," he said, his voice low. "Mind if I sit?"
Sophie blinked, momentarily surprised, then nodded. "Of course."
He slid into the seat across from her, setting his ever-present sketchbook on the table. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Sophie wasn't sure if she should say something or wait for him to start.
"You come here often?" Max asked, breaking the silence.
"Pretty much every day," Sophie replied. "It's my favorite place on campus."
Max nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his sketchbook. "I can see why. It's... peaceful."
Sophie smiled. "Exactly. So, what brings you here?"
He hesitated, then opened his sketchbook, flipping to a blank page. "I wanted to draw something. Thought this place might help."
"Do you always carry that thing around?" Sophie asked, her tone light.
"Pretty much," Max admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "It's kind of my lifeline."
Sophie tilted her head. "Can I ask why? I mean, you're obviously really good, but it seems... more than a hobby for you."
Max's expression grew distant, his gaze dropping to the page in front of him. "It's just... easier to put things on paper sometimes. Things I can't say out loud."
Sophie nodded, sensing that there was more he wasn't saying. "I get that. Writing is kind of the same for me."
"You write?"
"Nothing fancy," Sophie said quickly. "Just little things—stories, thoughts. Stuff I don't share with anyone."
Max's eyes met hers, and for the first time, Sophie saw a flicker of vulnerability in them. "Maybe you should. Share them, I mean. You never know who might need to hear it."
Sophie felt her cheeks warm under his gaze. "Maybe," she said softly.
They sat in comfortable silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts. Sophie worked on her homework while Max sketched, his pencil moving with a precision that fascinated her.
When the bell signaling the end of the day rang, Max closed his sketchbook and stood. "Thanks for letting me sit here."
"Anytime," Sophie said, surprising herself with how much she meant it.
As Max walked away, Sophie caught a glimpse of his sketch—a simple yet striking drawing of the library, with her sitting in the corner, lost in her work.