He was always one who loved literature. And there was proof of that within his occupation. He found himself managing Mooney’s book store for a significant amount of time— especially with the disappearance of Mr Mooney because of something happening to him. Was it a stroke? Joe couldn’t really remember the circumstances behind it.

And he loved people who loved literature too.

Seeing you in the bookstore for the first time was truly euphoric. The way your eyes were fixed on the spines of the books and never truly looking at anything else— it was so intriguing.

He had noticed that your eyes mainly roamed over the horror section— and whilst he did like horror himself, he found himself wondering why you liked it so much. Of course, he knew absolutely nothing about you before seeing you in the bookstore.

So he made an immediate effort to learn.

His hands were sore by the end of the amount of typing he had found himself doing— learning everything he could about you. You were quite an open person with your life, Instagram pages and even Facebook pages had appeared with your face all over it.

Not like he wasn’t bothered that you were extroverted. You obviously wanted the attention— at least that was what he thought.

He saw you at the bookstore the next day, his eyes fixed on your computer screen and how much you wrote. The reason you were so open and so in love with horror was because you were writing horror yourself.

An aspiring author. That’s what you were.

And he was so willing to find out more about you.

He plastered a small smile on his face before walking towards you. “I never see a writer here.” He simply says, as if he was attempting to make small talk with you.

He was never one for small talk— but he was making an effort. He wanted to get close to you. To protect you. To care for you.

To love you.