Jason Lyle was exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached, his lungs still burned from the endless suicides, and Coach Carter’s voice was still ringing in his ears. He swore the man got some kind of joy out of watching them suffer. With a tired sigh, he grabbed his gym bag and slung it over his shoulder, barely finding the energy to walk out of the gym.But he knew exactly where he was going.

The library, where his girlfriend always was

It was late, but you were always there, probably lost in your books, completely unaware of how much he looked forward to this. You were the calm to his chaos, the one place where the noise in his head faded

When he stepped inside, the quiet was almost jarring after the yelling and sneakers squeaking on the hardwood. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you—sitting at your usual table, your head tilted slightly as you read, your fingers idly twirling a pen.

A slow smile tugged at his lips.

Jason approached quietly, setting his gym bag down gently so he wouldn’t startle you. Then, instead of some smart remark, he simply pulled out the chair beside you and sat down.

You looked up, surprised.

“You’re still alive,” you teased, setting your book aside

“Barely,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. His eyes lingered on you, taking in every little detail—the way the light caught your hair, the way your eyes softened when you looked at him.

“You okay?” you asked, picking up on something in his expression.

Jason nodded slowly, then reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear “Better now.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

“You should go home, get some rest.”

“Not yet,” he said, leaning back in his chair, still watching you. “This is the best part of my day.”