Why was he staring so much? The man on my right looked starstruck as he just stared at me, completely still. Was it my hair? I haven't washed it in weeks… Or, maybe, my dirty clothes? I was supposed to wash them two days ago but I just forgot. He must have not even noticed I was staring back, noticing how unkempt his hair looked. It looked like a dove run over by a truck. And quite literally, because I couldn't tell if it was paint or blood splattered across the white mess. Which also surprised me, I mean how many times do you see someone with hair as white as his, especially on someone who doesn't look older than 30?
"Hello?" I said faintly with a raised eyebrow. He shook his head as if breaking from a trance and, I'm not exaggerating, sprinted out.
"Weirdo." Going back to my work, I placed some books back on the shelves from a box which held all the recently returned books. Among them was my favourite; White Nights by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Pretty thin compared to my other favourites such as Crime and Punishment, but a brilliant book nonetheless. This job was perfect for me, as little human interaction was needed, but it also gave room for my thoughts to run wild as there was little stimulation to keep me distracted. Thoughts, such as ones that make me question why I'm even alive, consume me whole at times. Sometimes, I don't want to fight them anymore and let them eat me alive until I break down like a faulty machine, to be kept hidden in the corner of the storage room, only waiting for the truck to take it and crush it to bits. I would deserve that, I think. To be crushed and destroyed so I can hurt no one else. My parents got divorced because of me, I mean it must be because of me. Why else would my mother drink and hit my father? It was always because of me, or about me, so it must be my fault. Why couldn't I die in the accident that killed my brother? I only survived because of dumb luck. I should've died too. So stupid, I'm so, so stupid. An idiot, a waste of human life. Would anyone even notice if I disappeared?
"Acacius, how many times must I repeat myself? Don't daydream at work!" A stern voice came from behind me. I turned to see my boss, holding a folded newspaper which hit my head moments later. The pain radiated throughout my scalp, pulsing with each heartbeat.
"I-"
"No, I've had enough! You're fired young man! I thought hiring a 17 year old with as much wisdom and interest as you was a good idea, but now I see that I was wrong. Take your things and leave now!" He was yelling so loudly everyone, inside and outside, could hear him. I stared, my eyes burning and slowly filling with salty tears. My footsteps were slow and heavy and as I walked to the employee room, grabbing my backpack and walking down the empty space between the counter and front doors. With each step a thunderous roar rumbled through my head. And with every step, it felt like my head was being pressed by a continuously tightening helmet. My steps got faster as I ran out, pulling the heavy doors and breathing the polluted city air in. Of course, my bad luck didn't end here. Right as I stepped outside, it started raining. As I kept running towards the bridge over the river, which was outside the city away from all the noise, I tripped over my own shoelaces which I only now realised were untied. My face fell right into a puddle, which just had to be right in front of me.
Having reached the bridge, I braced myself on the railing. The dark waters below weren't too far, not even 10 metres, but the impact could knock me out if I hit it correctly. No, what am I thinking? Yet….My life has no meaning. I have no loved ones, no friends, and now no work even if it was only during the weekends. The only thing I have are books and my scholarship. No one would care if I just… I leaned over the edge, staring at the water which moved rapidly. I got my legs on the other side of the railing, and held on while still leaning forward. My heart beat like a herd of wild horses, thundering faster as I felt my hands slowly let go of the cold metal. But before I could fall into the cold embrace of death, I felt arms around my waist hold me back really tightly.
"I don't even know you, but please don't! Stay alive, Acacius! I can give you a reason to live, just give me a chance!" I heard a low yet soft voice from behind frantically try to find the right words.
"You're wrong, I shouldn't live. There's no reason to. My parents hate me, I have no friends, I mean—" I chuckled, "—I have to find comfort in books and fantasies I know will never come true. I'm only 17, yet it feels as though my life is completely wasted already. You seem cheerful enough to not know how that feels." My voice turned into a low sob as I rambled on, hands glued to the railing as they shook. Both from being overwhelmed with emotions, and from the icy rain which still poured on us.
"Don't judge a book by its cover. There's more to me than meets the eye." His voice was laced with a threatening and unnerving tone, riding a wave of comforting softness which made my body trigger the fight or flight response. This sudden change of tone made me slightly loosen my grip on the railing, and I slowly turned around. Our eyes met and I felt my heart drop to my stomach. His eyes expressed the most confused and terribly crazed worry imaginable. No, it was unimaginable. And he was just as unimaginably beautiful. He was a head taller than me, looking down with tears rolling down his cheeks. Or maybe it was the rain, I couldn't possibly know. But he just stared, and as I stared back I realised it was the man from the library. I finally got the strength to climb over the railing again, and we stood there still as two statues. I couldn't help but rest my head in the cradle of his neck, sighing loudly.
"I also lost my job today." My voice trembled as I looked up at him, eyes filled with tears which burned as if acid was being poured on them. I felt his gaze on me intensify, his hands moving up my back to pull me back in. One of them rested on my head as he lay his head on mine, muttering;
"It will be okay."