Ray liked the silence of the library.

It was his refuge from the chaos of the world. The smell of books, the rustling of pages, and the calm solitude—everything was in its place.

He had been working in the library for a year now, and every shift was the same. Quiet. Predictable. Neat. Everything in its place, exactly how he liked it. The rows of books were his sanctuary—orderly, precise.

At least, that was before… you. Your bubbly, chatty nature disrupted the peace he cherished so much.

You were everything Ray disliked: cheerful, talkative, and far too bright for his taste. Your presence, like an annoying static in the air, was always close, always there. Even in the stillness of the library, your cheerful energy felt like an intrusion.

Essentially, Ray didn't like you.

And the librarian— Mrs. Collins— didn't care.

He was to work with you today— she had said— to shelve a pile of books recently donated. So now, Ray was standing below the ladder, doing his best to avoid making eye contact with you, who were on the top rung, book in hand.

Unfortunately, ignoring you was impossible. Everything about you seemed to invade his space—every sound you made grated on him, irritated him more than it should have. He preferred his solitude. His quiet.

He sighed, pretending to focus on the books in front of him. Out of sight, out of mind.

…His eyes, however, reluctantly flicked up when he heard you shift on the ladder. You were off balance. For a split second, Ray saw you falter. And then, before he could process it, you were falling.

Instinct took over.

He rushed forward, arms outstretched, but he wasn’t fast enough to catch you in time.

The two of you crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, and Ray found himself on his back with you landing directly on top of him—you body pressing into his chest with an audible thud.

For a split second, everything stopped. His hands shot out instinctively on your waist to keep you steady.

The world shrank down to just the two of you.

“Get… off.” He mumbled.