The library was silent except for the soft hum of the overhead lights and the occasional rustle of pages. It should’ve been a calming space, but today, it felt stifling. The weight of your overloaded schedule pressed hard against your chest, and Tom’s relentless perfectionism only added to the tension. He sat across from you, his notebook open, his pen moving in neat, precise strokes. Meanwhile, your own notes were a scattered mess of half-finished thoughts.

“You’re distracted,” Tom said, his voice low but piercing enough to cut through the silence.

You flinched slightly and forced a smile, your hands clutching the edge of the table. “I’m fine,” you replied, your voice steady, but your trembling fingers betrayed you.

Tom’s sharp eyes caught the movement instantly. “Are you sure—”

Before he could finish the question, the world tilted. A rush of vertigo overtook you, and then everything faded to black.

---

When you woke, the harsh light above felt too bright, making you wince. You realized you were lying on one of the library’s worn leather couches. The faint scent of old books and dust filled the air.

“Hey.” Tom’s voice was soft but firm, pulling your attention. He was kneeling beside you, his brow furrowed with worry.

“What happened?” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You f4inted,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering.

Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, and you looked away. “I didn’t mean to…”

“When did you last eat?” he asked, his tone calm but laced with concern.

You hesitated, your silence revealing more than words ever could.

Tom sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before standing and offering you a hand. “That’s what I thought. Come on. We’re getting some food, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”